April 2013

ZOE

It's the Friday before my weekend with my parents, and it's mental. The usual Friday rush of tourists checking in, couples wanting a room for the night, and businesses holding an away day. I'm rushed off my feet but buzzed with adrenaline. Each problem solved is a victory.

When my walkie talkie crackles at my waist, I ready myself for another drama to fix.

"We've got Richard Phillips from the Grand Bay on the line," May tells me through the fuzzy static. "Can I put him through to your phone?"

"Sure." I slip into my office, secretly thankful for a moment's reprieve from the chatter of the hotel lobby, and wait for the call to connect.

"Z." Richard's warm tone bounces down the line. "How's it going?"

I set the handset to speaker and collapse into my desk chair, kicking off my heels. "Busy. Too busy for small talk. What do you need?"

"One of your suites. Preferably the one that overlooks the river."

"We're full, Richard."

"So are we and one of my juniors has screwed up. Double booked. They're a loyal couple, spend a shit-ton with us, and I can't turn them away."

I roll my eyes. "Turn the other booking away, then."

"They're already here and checked in. Come on, Z. You have double the number of rooms over there. If I can upgrade my customers into one of your suites, I will seriously owe you."

Shaking my mouse to wake my computer screen, I tap in my password and load the bookings system.

The presidential suite is free. That's the one Richard wants. He's probably assumed it'll be free because a 10K-a-night room isn't often fully booked. But why should his customers get my best room?

Sorry, pal. We might have been engaged once upon a time, but business is business.

"Presidential suite isn't free. I can offer you an executive room. View of the river. I'll throw in some champagne and access to the spa."

"Throw in dinner as well and we've got a deal."

I huff. "I'm trying to run a profitable business here, Rich."

"Oh, don't give me that. I saw your figures last year. And remember I helped you out with that bottle of wine recently."

Last month a restaurant critic had dropped in on us. Naturally he'd chosen the one bottle of wine we'd run out of. A quick call to Richard and he'd sent over the exact same bottle from his own cellar. I could argue that a bottle of wine did not equal this particular favour, but that critic wrote a glowing review and I'd never know how different it could have turned out without Richard's help.

"Fine," I say. "Exec room. Champagne. Spa. Dinner."

"With the river—"

"With the river view."

"Cheers, Z. You're an angel. I'll ping over their details to your front desk."

As soon as we're off the phone, I buzz my Operations Manager and tell him to meet me at reception. He's there before me, keen as ever.

"We've got two guests coming from the Grand Bay," I tell him. "They're fully booked so we're doing them a favour."

Will nods. He's more than aware of how many favours are exchanged between our two hotels. Never once has he questioned it, and that's why I like him so much—his business head works in a similar way to mine.

"I want you to upgrade whoever is in room 505 to the presidential suite. Then the Grand Bay couple go in 505."

"Got it, boss."

"We also need to sort out a bottle of champagne, plus free dinner and spa access for the Grand Bay couple."

Will nods and pulls out his notebook. "I'll brief both teams and ask them to make this couple feel special."

I smile. See, he thinks just like me.

"Thanks, Will. Apparently they're loyal to GB but let's try our best to convert them."

He taps his pen against his notebook in thought. "I can personally keep an eye on them. If they look like they're impressed, we could offer a discount voucher for their next stay?"

It's a great idea, although Richard would be pissed at the underhanded tactics. Still, business is business.

"Let's play it by ear," I say. "For now, just treat them like royalty."

Richard can't be pissed at us looking after his best clients. That's just good friendship.

*

A week later, Richard calls again—this time in person. Armed with flowers.

"Z." He plants a light kiss to my right cheek, then presses the flowers into my hands. "A thank you."

"Oh." I stare at the large bouquet. "That's nice. Thanks. We don't usually get each other thank you gifts."

"You seriously helped me out last week." He strolls further into my office, eyes sweeping around the space, then perches on the edge of my desk. "I followed up with the van der Lindens yesterday, just to apologise again. They were thrilled with your place."

There's a possibility he's prying—Richard's a smart guy—so I play it safe by not responding. Instead, I lay the flowers carefully on my windowsill and nonchalantly graze the power button on my monitor to turn off the screen.

I'm a smart woman too.

Richard notices and smiles. "You think I came here to snoop?"

That's absolutely what I think. I'd love to believe it was irrational fear on my part—or over-cautiousness—but I have to remember I trusted this guy once before and he betrayed that trust spectacularly.

Maybe it's me I can't trust. My judgement.

"Just want to make sure you have my undivided attention," I say, "and save on energy costs while I'm at it."

The corner of his mouth quirks. He rubs a thumb along the surface of my desk.

"Do you know who else had your undivided attention? The van der Lindens."

I fight the urge to swallow the guilty lump in my throat. This is business. And I was doing him a favour. I have nothing to feel ashamed about.

"Actually, I don't think I spoke to them," I say.

"Yes, well, whoever on your staff did talk to them made quite the impression."

"Great to hear." I paste on an innocent smile. "I'll be sure to pass on the feedback."

A low chuckle vibrates from his chest. For a second, it sounds sinister, like he's deeply unimpressed. But then he slides off the desk and shoves his hands into his pockets, a familiar grin spreading across his face.

"Want to grab lunch?"

"I'm actually really busy, Rich."

I am busy, but I also can't think of anything worse than sitting through an awkward lunch with my ex-fiancé. And if it's not awkward, if we actually get along like the old days, then that'll be even worse. Our business friendship suits me fine. There are enough professional boundaries in place that we can be close without being intimate.

"Okay. Sure. No worries. Another time maybe." A flush creeps up his neck, the tell-tale sign of embarrassment. I hate that I can still recognise it.

Guilt stirs through my stomach, not because I've turned him down—he was the one who left me, after all—but because I instantly assumed the worst of him when he turned up here. Maybe he wasn't trying to snoop after all. Maybe they weren't thinly veiled jabs about the van der Lindens.

For all I know, Will's attentiveness last week helped the Grand Bay more than it helped us. If the couple really are loyal customers of Richard's, it's possible there was never any chance of us converting them, and all we did was make them feel like their first choice of hotel had pulled out all the stops to rectify their mistake.

"Thank you for the flowers, though," I hastily add. "I appreciate it. And you know I'm here, if you need anything."

"I know. Likewise."

I walk him to the door, and he stops just short of reaching for the handle. Silently, he turns back to face me. His eyes latch onto mine.

"You're smashing it, Z. Just like I knew you would."

"Likewise." I echo his earlier response. "Turns out we're just as formidable apart as we would have been together."

There. I addressed the elephant in the room. And it doesn't feel anywhere near as painful as I imagined. I had feelings for Richard, of course I did. Now, though, I barely feel anything. When I remember the hurt, it's like a different version of me. One who needed a man to feel validated. To mask the pain the last one left.

Since then, I've discovered another love. My career. What I can achieve by myself has rocketed my self-worth to astronomical levels. I'm in control of it. It won't leave me unless I leave it.

"I really am sorry, you know," Richard says, his hand now on the handle.

"Don't be. You deserve to be happy."

"So do you."

This time, my smile is genuine. "I am."

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

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