2. Ro
Chapter 2
Ro
A t the head of the conference table, I sat still with my hands steepled, listening to the construction manager drone on over the video call.
He had plenty of excuses for all of his delays. A muscle ticked in my jaw. My patience was running pretty damn thin.
“I want the construction finished in three weeks, Pierre.” My voice was cutting but I didn’t care. Pierre deserved it. On screen, the man froze. “You’re over time and over budget. I’ve given you plenty of time and leeway, but the guests at the Langston Paris have been inconvenienced enough.”
The man stuttered, full of more excuses.
I detested when people didn’t keep their promises.
“Get it done, Pierre. Or I’ll find someone who can.” I stabbed at the phone on the conference table and the screen on the wall showing Pierre’s spluttering face went blank. Leaning back in my chair, my gaze focused on the view out the window.
The city of Denver spread out before me, but it was the mountains that stole the show. I’d grown up in New York, so of course, Denver was nowhere that big, but I liked it. It was more laid-back and less pretentious.
For now, it was my temporary home base. I’d moved here and taken up an office and penthouse at the Langston Denver, while I dealt with the newest acquisition of the Langston Hotels group.
The thought made me frown. Things were not going as smoothly as I’d hoped. Juggling the Windward Mountain Resort along with several renovation projects at properties around the globe —France, England, and Indonesia—along with some new builds and some potential new acquisitions left me a bit stretched. I felt a headache threaten, like a tiny jackhammer to the temple.
“I thought Pierre was going to cry,” a voice said.
I turned my head, taking in two members of my top executive team sitting at the glossy conference table. My CFO, Tristan Banks, sat sprawled in a chair to my left. He was tall, with some African-American heritage that gave him brown skin and a handsome face I’d seen women drool over. His green eyes were steady and calculating. As always, he was dressed impeccably. The man had an addiction to tailored suits and shirts. Preferably from Savile Row or Milan.
He looked relaxed, but it was deceptive. His sharp mind was always on the go. The man liked numbers, preferably ones to do with lots of money, even more than his precious suits. He was my genius finance guy.
We’d met in college. Tristan had been at Harvard on a scholarship. I knew there had been no fancy suits when he’d been growing up.
“At this stage, I’d prefer tears over the excuses. Pierre’s incompetent. He’s had multiple chances. If things haven’t improved by the end of the week, he’s out.”
“I’ll take care of it,” a female voice said.
My COO and right-hand woman sat with a hip perched on the corner of the conference table. How she managed that in the fitted, long skirt and sky-high heels, I didn’t know. But I knew better than to ever doubt Piper Ellis. There was no miracle that the woman couldn’t pull off.
Her pale-blonde hair was up in a fancy twist and even at this time of the day, not a strand was loose. She’d have the Langston Paris renovations completed in three weeks, with or without our excuse-ridden project manager.
“So, the Windward Mountain Resort,” Tristan said.
My headache intensified. Out the window, the sun was sinking behind the mountains, giving us a hell of a sunset. “I need a drink.”
Rising, I stalked over to a cabinet, and lifted a decanter. I looked at the others.
“Count me in,” Tristan said.
Piper nodded.
I poured the Dalmore Single Malt Scotch and handed the crystal glasses to the others. We all took sips, and I took a second to savor the flavor.
I’d been the CEO of Langston Hotels for eighteen months. I’d taken over from my father—and it had been a hostile change. He still liked to complain about it.
The thing was, while he hadn’t exactly run the company into the ground, he hadn’t done much good for it either. The older properties were getting dated, the company hadn’t made any new acquisitions in years. Our brand had dipped in popularity. He’d kept pay raises, benefits, and training for the staff at a minimum, meaning we had higher turnover, and it had shown in the staff skill level. He’d recently divorced, and Niall Langston was more interested in chasing ever younger wives than running the business. I took a longer swig of my drink. It hadn’t taken much for me to convince the board to let me take over.
As soon as I’d taken control, I’d been determined to correct my father’s mistakes and make my mark. I would make Langston Hotels the premier destination for travelers all around the world.
“Windward gets my full attention,” I said.
“Good, because the locals are… Less than enthusiastic about being a part of Langston Hotels.” Piper swirled her drink.
Tristan made a sound. “I heard there’s been an uptick in angry hate mail over the purchase. Apparently, we’re going to come in and ruin this pristine mountain paradise.”
“I sent a consultant up there to work with the hotel manager for a preliminary inspection,” Piper said.
“Tessa Ashford.” I’d met her. She’d been helpful, while poorly hiding her displeasure over the acquisition. She was a neat, trim brunette, smart and earnest, with the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen.
I lifted my glass again. Her eyes really weren’t important.
Now, she responded to my emails with unfailing politeness that I knew hid a wealth of tartness.
“She… bustled him around, assured him that everything was great.” Piper sniffed. “Nothing needed changing. He sounded smitten.”
I frowned. The Windward Mountain Resort was in dire need of updating. There was a potential we’d knock it down and rebuild.
We didn’t need old, dark, and musty in a prime location.
Windward attracted tourists, but there was potential to turn it into the next Aspen. We needed a successful, modern resort with top-notch amenities that would be the jewel in the Langston Hotels crown.
“Well, she can’t charm me. In under three years, I want Langston Windward to be the premier mountain resort in Colorado. No, in the whole of North America.” I straightened. “Where’s Caden?”
Piper shrugged. “He’s around. No doubt off assessing the security of Langston Denver and finding it woefully inadequate.”
“Or scouring that hate mail to find out who wrote it,” Tristan added.
That sounded exactly like the Langston Hotels’ head of security. “Get him in here. Piper, wrap up whatever work you have left to do. The three of us will head to Windward. Indefinitely.”
My COO winced. “It’s…a small town. A small mountain town.”
She said ‘mountain’ like other people would say ‘disease-ridden’.
Tristan snorted. “They might not even have high-speed Internet.”
She skewered him with a look.
“You’ll get your turn up there, Tristan,” I said. “For now, I need you here, working on the Maldives acquisition. Once I’ve planned what we’re doing at Windward—renovations, or demoing and a new build—I’ll need you.”
Piper arched a brow. “Your resort manager isn’t going to be happy.”
“My goal isn’t Ms. Ashford’s happiness, it’s the success of Langston Hotels, and right now, that hinges on the success of the Windward Mountain Resort.”
“She’s been busy this week, planning some annual charity event the resort is holding tomorrow night.” Piper shifted on the table. “A masquerade ball.”
An idea bloomed. A way I could take a little look around the Windward Resort without people recognizing me. Get a real look at the hotel without people rushing to make everything perfect.
“I’m suddenly feeling rather charitable.”
Piper’s eyebrows winged up. “Come again?”
“I’ll head up to Windward tomorrow. I’ll attend the masquerade, spend the night, and do a little reconnaissance.”
Tristan made a sound. “That’s very James Bond of you.”
I shrugged. “It gives me a chance to take a look around without people bobbing, curtseying, and tripping over themselves to only show me what they think I want to see.” I glanced at Piper. “While I’m gone, you and Caden pack your bags. We’ll fly up at the end of the week.”
She made a face. “God, I hope I don’t need hiking boots.” She shuddered.
After the pair had left, I stalked into the adjoining office I was using. The large, black desk sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving me more of that amazing mountain view. Sliding one hand into the pocket of my suit pants, I nudged my laptop and saw an email from Tessa Ashford.
Subject: Your urgent staffing reports
Mr. Langston,
As requested, here are your staffing reports. If you have any questions, I will gladly drop everything to answer them for you.
Regards,
Tessa Ashford
I fought the urge to smile. I don’t think I’d ever been told to go fuck myself so politely. I hoped to hell that Tessa Ashford didn’t cause any trouble with the transition. She had an iron-clad contract, which meant, whether I liked it or not, she was the hotel manager for the next three years.
Besides, I suspected she knew the hotel and staff better than anyone. The old owner of the hotel, Amos Clarence, had sung her praises. I needed her expertise.
Well, I was turning the Windward into a Langston Hotel whether she liked it or not. She needed to get on board. I never let anything, or anyone, get in the way of my plans.
My cellphone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and when I saw my father’s name, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.
I stabbed at the phone and ignored his call. The very last thing I needed now was to talk with my father. He’d been calling the last few days, and I’d managed to avoid him.
I had more important things to deal with.
My gaze drifted to the mountains again.
Get ready, Ms. Ashford. You’re about to be dragged into the Langston Hotels Group, whether you like it or not.
* * *
The powerful engine growled as I accelerated up the highway. I’d decided to drive to Windward. I figured arriving by helicopter was a little conspicuous.
I’d rented an Aston Martin Vanquish Volante. I smiled. I had zero regrets. The car was a deep, sexy red, with a powerful V12 engine, and was a dream to drive.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d driven somewhere alone. Caden had tried to saddle me with a bodyguard. My head of security took his job very seriously. Thankfully, I’d managed to talk him down since no one knew where I was.
I’d left Denver behind and ahead of me lay the majestic Rockies. The weather was sunny, but the temperature was brisk, and had cooled a little more the higher I went to the mountains. But it was warm enough to have the roof down. The wind ruffled my hair.
Gunning the engine, I overtook a truck. There was no ringing phone, no father, no disasters to handle, or meetings to attend. I usually didn’t have time to relax. The last eighteen months had been a pressure cooker of work—which was just how I liked it. Work gave me purpose. It gave me the chance to show my father what I could do. To prove that I was nothing like him.
For the moment, it was pure bliss. Well, until I got to Windward.
But tonight, I’d just be doing a little reconnaissance. I was just a nameless man attending a charity masquerade. I had my tuxedo packed and my assistant, Robbie, had booked a room for me under an alias. I’d get to see firsthand how Ms. Ashford and her team ran a big event. I’d also check out the guest suite I was staying in.
Soon, I saw the sign for Windward. I slowed and took the exit.
It was a cute town, with a great location. A gondola running up the hillside caught my eye. No doubt it was carrying hikers and sightseers to the top. But winter would be when the place would really shine. I knew the town was one of the largest skiing destinations in the country, with excellent runs of all skill levels, amazing backcountry skiing, several terrain parks, and a world-class, adaptive-skiing program. Shame I wouldn’t be here by the time winter rolled around.
I followed the directions on my phone and then the resort came into view.
Nice . It was all creamy, brown stone, wood, and glass in a solid, lodge style. It gave the impression of strength, like it could weather anything. It suited the place. Strong and solid with good bones.
We’d still evaluate knocking it down and rebuilding, but that required a lot of capital. The existing resort, though…we could work with this.
I pulled in under the portico.
“Good afternoon, sir.” The young valet smiled at me, but his gaze was on the long lines of the car. “It would be my pleasure to park this beauty for you.”
I opened the door, leaving my sunglasses on. The last thing I needed was for someone to recognize me. “Take good care of her.” I handed over the keys and a healthy tip. “The name is Williams.” The name my assistant had used to reserve the room.
He nodded. “I’ll take very good care of her, and ensure your bags get to your room, Mr. Williams.” He glanced in the backseat at the leather duffel and matching suit bag. “Are you here for the Mountain Masquerade?”
“I am.”
“I hope you have a mask. It’s a requirement.”
I frowned. Crap . “I don’t.”
“Don’t worry.” The young man flashed another smile. “The gift shop in the lobby has some available.”
“Thanks.”
In the lobby, I kept to the edges and absorbed the atmosphere. The high ceiling got major points, but the wall of glass showing off the mountain view was the high point. I pulled on a baseball cap that Caden had given me. He’d handed it over with a great deal of amusement since the last time I’d worn one, I’d been at college.
No one would be expecting Ambrose Langston to show up wearing a baseball cap.
He wasn’t wrong. Pulling the bill down lower, I looked around. The place was busy and had a nice vibe.
As I crossed the wooden floor, I saw a large, framed painting hanging on one wall. Chester Clarence. Amos Clarence’s grandfather who’d founded the resort. The portly man stood posed in front of a mountain backdrop. From everything I’d read, he’d been a gambler and scoundrel.
I headed to the reception desk.
“Welcome to the Windward Mountain Resort.” A young man smiled at me.
“I’ve been pre-checked in. Douglas Williams.”
“Of course, sir. Here’s the key to your suite, Mr. Williams. The elevators are over there.” The man pointed. “I see you’re attending the Mountain Masquerade. Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” Apparently, the masquerade’s sit-down dinner had already been sold out, but Robbie had snagged me a ticket for the silent auction and after-party. I spotted the gift shop. As I entered, an elegant, middle-aged woman was helping a couple who were looking at some jewelry. She smiled my way. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The staff all appeared to be well-trained and attentive. That was a good sign.
I spotted several masks available in a cabinet. Most were black or silver, while a few had a distinct mountain theme, decorated with fur or leaves.
Then my gaze fell on a beaten metal mask resting on a mannequin head sitting on top of the case. It just covered the top half of the face and had a masculine vibe. It made me think of kings and fairytales. I shook my head. I wasn’t one for fanciful thoughts.
“Can I help you?”
The woman had finished with the other customers and stood behind the counter.
“I need a mask for tonight.”
“As you can see, we have several options.” She waved a hand at the cabinet.
“I want that one.” I pointed to the one on the mannequin.
Her eyes lit up. “It’s made of real bronze. It’s pricey.”
“I’ll take it.”
With my new mask packed in a gift bag, I headed toward the elevators. I’d check out my room and relax. Fuck, it had been a long time since I’d done that.
I had no vacations planned for the foreseeable future. Taking over the company had meant endless workday after endless workday, and a hell of a lot of travel. I thrived on it, even on the days when I was irritated, exhausted, and fighting a headache. I’d do anything to make the company a success.
That meant I needed to make the most of this unplanned night off.