Chapter 2 #2
I caught myself looking at her mouth.
She noticed.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
She held my gaze for one long second before someone changed the screen.
I turned my attention to the work.
The property observation began before noon.
We moved through a quieter section of the hotel than yesterday: guest elevators, a family lounge, two restaurants, and a shaded courtyard used as an informal path between public areas.
Chrissy took fewer notes now.
Near one of the lounge entrances, a young member of staff was trying to answer questions from a couple while another guest waited behind them with an increasingly unhappy toddler in her arms.
Chrissy slowed.
The child’s stuffed rabbit lay beneath a nearby bench.
She stepped out of the group, picked it up, and held it toward the mother.
“Is someone missing this?”
The toddler saw the rabbit and lunged for it with both hands.
The mother laughed with obvious relief.
“Oh, thank you.”
Chrissy smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
She glanced at the young employee, who was still juggling the first couple’s questions and trying to signal for assistance at the same time.
Chrissy caught Elias’s attention.
“Could someone give him a hand for a minute?”
Elias followed her glance.
“Of course.”
Within seconds another employee joined the first.
Chrissy was already walking again.
We entered the courtyard.
A faint sound came from beneath the landscaping near the far wall.
Chrissy stopped.
“Did you hear that?”
I had.
A small cat emerged from beneath a low shrub.
It was thin, dusty, and wary enough to remain several feet from us.
Chrissy’s entire expression changed.
“Oh, baby.”
She crouched.
I nearly smiled at the absurd softness in her voice.
The cat watched her.
Chrissy held out one hand but didn’t move closer.
“Hi, sweetheart. I’m not going to grab you.”
The cat sniffed.
Then it took one cautious step.
Chrissy waited.
The cat took another step.
When the animal finally reached her, it rubbed its face against her fingers.
“Oh, you poor little thing.”
She stroked beneath its chin.
The cat leaned harder into her hand.
Then, apparently satisfied with the arrangement, the creature allowed itself to be lifted.
She tucked it against her chest.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
The cat’s narrow body disappeared against the soft curve of her breasts while Chrissy pressed her cheek briefly to its head.
“You’re too skinny. Who’s been feeding you?”
The cat purred.
Chrissy looked up at me.
“We have a problem.”
“We do?”
“This cat needs a name.”
Of all the problems I dealt with in the course of a normal day, this one had never appeared.
“It needs food.”
“It needs that too.”
“And a veterinarian.”
“Yes, obviously, but we can’t keep calling it ‘the cat.’”
“We’ve been acquainted for approximately thirty seconds.”
“That is plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for what?”
“Initial naming decisions.”
I folded my arms.
Chrissy studied the animal.
“What about Biscuit?”
“I don’t think it looks like a Biscuit.”
Her eyes widened. “That was very fast.”
“What does a Biscuit look like?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then your objection has no foundation.”
A laugh threatened.
She looked back at the cat.
“What about Your Majesty?”
“That might be worse.”
“Why is that worse?”
“You objected to using my title at breakfast, and now you want to give one to a stray cat.”
“That’s completely different. Cats already believe they’re royalty.”
I laughed.
Chrissy grinned.
The cat purred louder.
“What about Tiny Terror?”
“It hasn’t done anything terrifying.”
“Not yet.”
“Then I’m still voting no.”
She narrowed her eyes at the animal.
“What about Kevin?”
I blinked.
“You want to name that cat Kevin?”
“Maybe I do.”
“Why Kevin?”
“I think it would be funny.”
I shook my head.
“I’m not convinced that qualifies as a reason.”
“It’s an excellent reason.”
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had stood in front of me holding a stray animal and demanded my opinion about whether it looked like a Kevin.
People asked me for approvals, decisions, money, access, and judgment.
Chrissy wanted to know whether I preferred Biscuit.
“You’re smiling,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Give me the cat.”
Her arms tightened around it.
“Why do you want it?”
“So someone can take it for veterinary care.”
She looked down immediately.
“Of course it does.”
The humor left her face.
“You’ll help it?”
“Yes. I’ll make sure it’s cared for.”
“I mean really help it.”
I met her eyes.
“I will, Chrissy.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
She kissed the top of the cat’s dusty head before carefully handing it to a staff member Elias had summoned.
“Tell the veterinarian it hasn’t been named yet.”
The employee glanced toward me.
I nodded.
Chrissy pointed after the departing cat.
“And nobody names it without me.”
“Yes, Ms. Campbell.”
She looked satisfied.
I waited until she’d rejoined the working group before speaking quietly to Elias.
“Arrange a full veterinary assessment. Whatever treatment it needs. Food, vaccinations, safe housing.”
“Of course.”
“And keep Ms. Campbell informed.”
His gaze flickered briefly toward her.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
I had no intention of spending the afternoon personally feeding a stray cat.
I did, however, want to see Chrissy’s face when she learned it was safe.
We ate a working lunch with the team before returning to the afternoon review.
By four, her notes had helped reshape another section of the campaign around arrival, accessibility, and small moments of anticipated need.
I wanted to know how she would sound if the next helpless little moan came from something other than breakfast.
That thought made the rest of the meeting difficult.
When the team finally dispersed, I turned to Chrissy.
“Do you have another hour?”
She glanced at her itinerary.
“Is this for work?”
“We can start with work.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
There was a pause.
Then she smiled.
“I probably should’ve asked for clarification before agreeing.”
“You haven’t agreed yet.”
“All right. I’ll give you an hour.”
I led her upstairs.
I didn’t take her to my private rooms.
We went to one of the smaller sitting rooms in the residence, where the staff had already placed the revised creative boards, coffee, tea, water, and a light plate of food on the low table.
Chrissy tipped her chin toward the food.
“Your household has decided I’m in danger of starvation.”
“You barely touched the food they brought during yesterday’s meeting.”
“I made up for it at breakfast.”
“You launched part of breakfast at me.”
“That melon acted alone.”
I sat opposite her.
“I’m sure it did.”
She opened the campaign deck.
We worked for another forty minutes.
She pointed to one line of copy.
“This promises too much.”
“It promises personalization.”
“It promises mind reading.”
I reread the line.
“We couldn’t deliver that consistently across every property.”
“Exactly. Let me narrow it.”
“Show me.”
She changed the wording, read the line aloud, and waited.
“That version works.”
Then she closed the tablet.
“How’s the cat?”
I had been waiting for that.
“The veterinarian has examined it.”
She sat straighter.
“What did they say?”
“It’s underweight and mildly dehydrated, but there’s no serious injury.”
Her face softened.
“They can help?”
“They already are.”
“Where is it?”
“In a service area being cared for until the veterinarian decides where it should stay.”
She exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What about the name?”
“The name is still unresolved.”
“That’s good. I was worried someone might make an irresponsible decision while I was working.”
“You mean Kevin?”
She laughed.
“There was nothing wrong with Kevin.”
“There was everything wrong with Kevin.”
Her shoulders shook once.
“You’re very judgmental about cat names for a man who refuses to suggest one.”
“I don’t know the cat.”
“You own a hotel full of people you don’t know, and you make decisions about them all day.”
“They’re not named Biscuit.”
She shook her head, still amused.
The room went quiet after that.
I asked the question I had wanted to ask since yesterday.
“Why did you choose guest experience?”
Chrissy blinked.
“You mean my job?”
“Yes, I mean your job.”
She leaned back into the chair.
“I like figuring out where people get stuck.”
“That sounds like yesterday’s answer.”
“It probably is.” She thought for a moment. “I like marketing, but I’m more interested in what happens before somebody ever sees the campaign and after they believe it. If an ad promises something the hotel doesn’t actually deliver, it’s just pretty lying.”
I smiled.
“You may want to avoid that phrase in tomorrow’s workshop.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“What do you want to be doing in five years?”
Her expression shifted, and she took her time before answering.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“You’re very certain when you work.”
“I’m certain about what I’m good at. That’s not the same as knowing what title I want.”
I waited.
She traced one finger along the edge of the tablet.
“I’d like to be in the room earlier.”
“What do you mean?”
“A lot of junior marketing work happens after the bigger decisions are already made. You support the strategy. You research it. You fix pieces of it. You make the deck look like nobody changed the entire direction at six-thirty the night before.”
“That sounds specific.”
“It is.”
I smiled.
She continued.
“I’d like to help shape the idea before everyone gets attached to it.”
“You did that here.”
Her blue eyes met mine.
“Yes, I did.”
She gave me a small, pleased smile.
It looked good on her.
“Why did Amanda send you?”
“She didn’t have many choices.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Chrissy’s brows rose.
“You do that a lot.”
“What do I do?”
“Ask a question, reject the first answer, and sit there looking intimidating until somebody gives you the real one.”
“Does it work?”
“It works annoyingly well.”
I waited.
She sighed.
“She sent me because I knew the research, I could travel on short notice, and I’d been supporting the account.”
“You were qualified.”
“Yes, I was.”
She met my eyes when she said it.
I liked that too.
“I was also available.”