Page 47 of Dr. CEO (The Doctors)

I sigh. “You’ve spoken to her? This wasn’t part of the brief. We have plenty of time to find a manager. We need to build the hotel before we staff it.”

She shrugs. “As soon as we have the planning permission, we’ll have an open date. Staff need to be trained. They need to be recruited. We have no one to run and organize all those workstreams. You need someone with loads of energy. Someone hungry for success.”

“I’d prefer someone experienced. Someone with a track record of success.”

“I don’t think that’s who you need.”

I don’t even bother answering because what she’s saying is ridiculous.

“What’s the incentive for someone with a track record of success in the luxury hotel industry to come and work here? You have no established brand that will look good on someone’s LinkedIn profile and there’s little opportunity for promotion. You need someone looking for a long-term role as much as a next step.”

I sit silently, taking in what she says. No one had said this before. Recruiters just nodded their heads when I told them I needed an experienced, successful manager. Maybe Kate is right and I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.

“Who’s your suggestion?”

She slides out her tablet and passes it to me. “Olga’s very experienced—just not at the top job. But she’s managed people and she’s worked very closely with upper-level managers.”

“So, why hasn’t she had a top job? There must be something missing.”

Kate sighed. “She’s a woman. Plus she has kids. She doesn’t fit the mold.”

“You’re telling me she hasn’t had a top job because the hotel world is sexist?”

“Probably. Or maybe she didn’t want it until now. You can ask her when you interview her. Tomorrow at ten. I checked your diary with Michael.”

Kate stands and reaches for her iPad.

“You’re incredible,” I say. “You’ve done everything I thought you would and more.”

Our eyes lock and a frisson of electricity passes between us.

She swallows and then says, “Thank you for trusting me with this job.”

“Thank you for doing it so well.”

She leaves and it takes me twenty minutes to refocus—to think about something, anything, that isn’t her.

Beck and I are having lunch at the pub and we’re sitting at what I now consider my regular table. Kate isn’t on shift, though she’s still here a few nights a week despite the salary increase she negotiated from me.

“It’s good to be working with you. Would you have thought it would happen when I met you up a mountain, all those years ago?” he asks.

“Working with you isn’t surprising. Buying two- and three-bedroom new-builds in Cambridgeshire from you just isn’t how I thought it would happen.”

He chuckles and looks at the menu. “Yeah, me neither.”

“So have you abandoned Mayfair, the place where you made your name?”

“Not at all. This high-volume residential stuff is a bit of a hedge in case the London market tanks. I’ve got to see how it goes, but I’ve been thinking about setting up another division. High-quality housing on the outskirts of large villages. Small developments. No one else is doing it.”

“Makes sense to diversify.”

“Which is what you seem to be doing. Life in the English countryside suits you. You don’t miss New York?”

Honestly, I haven’t missed New York at all. “New York is still there,” I say.

Our waitress comes over and I’m slightly disappointed when she doesn’t make a menu recommendation, complete with nutritional insights.

“I’ll get a ginger beer,” I say. “And the Cobb salad.”

---