Something tells me he’s talking about something else, though.

I glance over my shoulder to find him watching me quietly from his truck. That stare, it’s almost... wolfish.

Chapter Ten

“Fifth floor needs ten more corkscrews and shoe polish kits!” Shelley, one of the room service supervisors, hollers. “Can you ladies bring those up? Last request, then you can go get your uniforms and call it a day. Promise.”

“Sure thing,” Tillie answers for us, strolling past me to grab the corkscrews from the supply bin against the wall to our left. All the major staples—bottle openers, extra pens, batteries, adapters for foreigners, the special custom-made Wolf Hotel branded chocolates—are sorted there for easy access. “Maybe you should carry these, with those broken arms and all.” She winks and dumps the corkscrews into my appreciative hands.

I guess being in Chicago all year has softened my muscles, because only hours later—albeit long, arduous hours of shuttling extra pillows, towels, and hair dryers all over the hotel and, yes, wrestling with bed sheets—my arms are aching something fierce.

I’m exhausted. All I want to do is curl up in my little bed, and as soon as I’m able, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.

“That’s what you get for disappearing into the woods with Mr. Wolf,” Tillie hisses as we head toward the staff elevator.

I spear her with a warning glare. Tillie’s the only one who knows who I left with, and that’s because she badgered me until I let it slip. In trying to respect Henry’s wishes, I asked her to keep it to herself.

“Oh, relax. I’m not gonna say nothin’.” She hits the Up button with her elbow and then stands back. “I can’t believe you spent all morning watching that man cut wood and did not take one picture. Did he sweat? Oh, I bet he was sweating.”

“I didn’t notice,” I lie. “I know that I was sweating. It was hard work.”

“Why’d he ask you, anyway? I mean...” Her eyes roam my tiny frame.

“I think it was a reality check for outdoor work in Alaska. So I’d shut up and be happy in Housekeeping.”

“Lugging wood would do it, I guess.” A woman passes us in the corridor, her maid uniform slung over her shoulder. “Not bad, hey?” Tillie says, nodding toward it.

As far as frumpy housekeeping uniforms go, I’d say we lucked out. The French-inspired dresses are classy yet functional, all black with cap sleeves and cowl necklines, trimmed with white lace. Someone was modeling it earlier. It’s flattering. Nothing too revealing, and comfortable enough—though I haven’t scrubbed any toilets, yet.

The elevator doors open just as someone calls out, “Abbi, wait!” We turn to see Belinda speeding toward us, her heels clicking furiously.

“Go ahead. I’ll be up in a sec,” I tell Tillie, watching her disappear behind the doors.

“Did you get my message?” Belinda pants, like she’s out of breath.

I frown. “No. But I don’t have my phone on me.” I’ve enjoyed not carrying it, being disconnected from the world. Mainly from Greenbank.

She waves it away. “Not a problem. We have a solution to the role mix-up.”

Dare I hope? “You’re moving me to Outdoor?”

“No.” Her lips purse together. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Is there a hint of bitterness in her voice? “Beginning tomorrow morning, you’ll be covering Penthouse One.”

“Penthouse One.” I frown. “I don’t understand. What does that even mean?” And how is that better?

“Here.” She thrusts an iPad at me. “All the information you need is in there. Guest programs, amenities, procedures. It’ll take you a few days to digest it all, but you’ll have time to do that.”

“But—”

“You’ll need a liaison’s uniform. They should have something that fits you.”

I stare at the iPad. “Okay?” I’m starting tomorrow and yet the hotel manager has admitted that it’ll take me a few days to know what to do. “Are you sure I’m the best person for this job?”

Again, that lip pucker. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Mr. Wolf insisted on it.”

My eyebrows must jump halfway up my forehead. “He did what?” Clearly he’s not as smart of a businessman as I thought he was if he’s going to put me with his most valuable guests.

Belinda hands me a key card. “Each penthouse has its own uniquely coded liaison card. You know where the penthouses are, right?”

I nod absently.

“To the right of the guest door is another door. That is the one you use. You’ll be expected to arrive on site tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m., sharp.”

There are so many questions flying through my head that I don’t know where to begin.

She taps the iPad in my hand with her nail. “Watch the video, read through the training sections, and if you have any more questions, Paige will help you.”

I watch her stalk away as if in a rush, checking her watch as she rounds the corner.

A rash of nerves floods my stomach. What on earth was Henry thinking, putting me in this job? I thought he cared about his hotel?

I wish I knew how to find him so I could talk him out of this. But I don’t have time to hunt him down. I need to drop off these kits, get my new uniform, and get back to the cabin to familiarize myself.

I have a feeling I won’t be sleeping tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~

“The Cabins?” Autumn looks as shocked as Tillie did when I told her. “You need years of experience kissing rich people’s asses to be put there. Only superstar seasoned Wolf employees get that kind of gig.”

“Yeah. I don’t get it either.” I sigh, studying my new “uniform”—a breezy white blouse and plum-colored pencil skirt with a provocative slit up the back—that hangs in its dry-cleaning packaging on my hook.

I’m neither seasoned nor a superstar and yet the owner of Wolf Cove Hotel wants me catering to the needs of the most elite guests. Why? “So, what am I going to be doing there?” If anyone would know, Autumn would.

“Oh, man.” She unfastens a pearl earring and tosses it into a jewelry box. “Well, you’re basically there to cater to every need that your guests may have. You’re available to them at all times. All Wolf hotels have servants’ quarters on the same floor as the penthouses. Here, I heard that they’ve built little quarters inside each cabin, where you stay until you’re needed. Bring a book,” she warns, with a knowing stare. “And, depending on how demanding the guest is, you may be expected to stay overnight and cater to them at 3:00 a.m. if they buzz. When they want room service, you order it for them. When they want to eat at the restaurant, you make their dinner reservations. You make their excursion arrangements and spa sessions; you recommend activities, you ensure their liquor cabinet is full at all times, their coffee and tea is poured, their dishes are always cleared, their rooms are cleaned.”

“You wipe their asses if they ask you nicely enough,” Tillie murmurs.

I feel my face blanching. I hope she’s kidding.

“And the best part?” Autumn goes on. “You don’t even have to do the actual cleaning. You dial up Housekeeping when it’s convenient for the guest and someone else comes and does the work. Consider yourself a butler, only female.”

Well, that’s one blessing. But... “I’m supposed to book excursions?” My head is beginning to spin with all the things I need to know that I won’t, not before the morning. Why do I need to be there so early, anyway? No one’s going to be there at 7:00 a.m.

“Yes.” Autumn grins, climbing to the top bed. “Through your friendly concierge. And if you’re lucky, they’ll take you on one. You know, because they need a servant while they watch Kodiak bears and view glaciers.”

Mention of bears distracts me from my current agitation, bringing me back to this morning. And Henry. He has invaded my thoughts all afternoon and into the evening as it is.

“Penthouse guests get what they want, when they want it. Honestly, it’s the country club of the service world. At least, it is for a Wolf employee.”