“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” I say to Henry.
“This is where the content happens,” Henry replies, scratching his jaw as he surveys the room.
I gasp dramatically. “You mean you finally agree with me?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” he says, tipping his head to look down at me, and I roll my eyes.
This will be the heart of our campaign. Cocktails, immaculately dressed guests, and modern fusion dining that everyone who’s anyone will be posting, tagging, and raving about on socials.
“So,” I say, turning my attention to Max. “How do you see guests interacting in this space? I want to make sure it’s communicated in the marketing.”
Max smirks. “I think it will be a versatile space—businesspeople sipping on cappuccinos in the morning before transitioning into an ambient space in the evening.”
“Perfect,” I reply, mentally ticking off all the features to pass on to the PR, events, and design teams.
This is why I love my job. As a creative director, I live for these moments when everything aligns—finally seeing the space through the same lens that everyone else will view it once our campaign launches.
Max points to a booth near the far end of the bar. “We’re also adding discreet power outlets under the tables, for guests working remotely or holding meetings during off-peak hours.”
I feel his enthusiasm. It’s infectious, and it makes me grin.
“This hotel is really special, Max. You’ve done a wonderful job,” I say, my eyes softening as they meet his.
“Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. The Livingstone team coordinated all this. They’ve done an exceptional job,” he says gently, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “The bar staff will be joining us in about fifty minutes to go over the signature cocktails for the launch party, but I’d love to show you the rest of the property first.”
“Lead the way,” Henry says.
“I can’t wait to see the spa,” I whisper, leaning into Henry.
Max’s expression shifts when his eyes flick to Henry, as if he doesn’t like him being too close. I should tell him Henry’s gay, but what would be the fun in that?
Without a word, Max nods once and gestures for us to follow.
The guest floors are finished and just as impressive as the rest of the venue.
As we approach the penthouse suite, Henry’s phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.
“You gonna take that?” I ask, eyeing him sideways.
Henry glances at the screen and sighs, stopping mid-step. “It’s Chadwick. I need to take this.”
“Do you want us to wait?” I ask. I try to keep my tone friendly but I’m boring holes through him, silently begging him to say no.
“No, you two go ahead. I’ve seen the other suites—I’m happy with that. I’ll see you back at the office.”
“You’re leaving?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“This won’t be a short call.” Henry reaches out to shake Max’s hand. “Thanks for showing us around, and congratulations—it’s all looking brilliant.”
I hide the victory party being thrown in my head.
Max shakes his hand, his voice cool and even. “My pleasure. Appreciate it.”
With that, Henry disappears, his voice echoing down the corridor.
Max’s eyes meet mine and the air between us crackles. Need scales my body, and lust coils up my spine like a serpent.He tilts his head toward the large double doors at the end of the short corridor.
“I want you to see the view.”
