Whispers of Change
722 Words
The Colorado winter landscape sprawls before me, a canvas of muted hues blanketed in snow. Trees glisten with icicles, casting long shadows on the pristine ground. As an interior designer, my eyes roam over the resort's structures—faded cushions, outdated fixtures, a lobby yearning for modernity. The Rockies' beauty is undeniable, but change whispers through the embrace of nature.
Monica's words echo in my mind: "It needs a touch of the 21st century, Jillian. Don't let nostalgia sway you."
Lost in thoughts of fabrics and colors, Justus's voice jolts me back.
“You're going to love it here,” he exclaims, pride evident in his tone. It's as if every brick resonates with him. “I want this to be a second home for you, Jillian. A place to relax after work. I've even added personal touches to your suite.”
I raise an eyebrow, unsure how to respond. “Appreciated, but I'm here to work, Justus. I'm here to redesign."
His chuckle is deep, full of amusement. “I'm aware. But consider this weekend a short break before the storm. Take your time to settle in, to get to know the place." He extends his hand, offering me his card. “Anything you need, anything at all—don’t hesitate to call."
As I accept the card, our fingers brush, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness up my arm. Intense and searching, his gaze holds mine for a lingering second that feels like an eternity.
“You’ve had a long day, and that accident could take a toll. Rest up.” His voice is soft and intimate, leaving me with an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach.
As he walks away, heading deeper into the resort, I’m left in the expansive lobby, a flurry of emotions bubbling inside me. There's anticipation for the work ahead, confusion at the unexpected spark with Justus, and a deep-rooted determination to breathe new life into this beautiful, slightly outdated place.
Shaking off the curious mixture of attraction and anxiety, I head to the front desk, eager to check in and settle down. With a project as promising as this one and a resort owner as alluring as Justus Almeida, this stay promises to be anything but ordinary.
Approaching the front desk, I offer the young woman behind the counter my name. She begins tapping away on her keyboard.
"I'm afraid I don't see your reservation here..."
"I assure you, I made this reservation weeks ago!" My frustration is mounting, and the accumulated aches from the accident and prolonged exposure to the cold, are burrowing deep into my bones. I'm in dire need of a hot bath, wine and some rest.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Michaels, but I simply don't have any record of your booking in our system. Unfortunately, we don't have any rooms available at the moment. We're fully booked."
Stranded without a room or car, I feel caught in a tricky situation after the rollercoaster of a journey up here. Do I play the business card with the ridiculously attractive owner? He did hint at helping out if I ever needed anything.
"Could you get in touch with the owner?" I ask hesitantly, pulling out my cell phone to shoot my assistant Gina a quick text message to tell her what's happening. Maybe she can reach out to Monica to help with the situation.
"Mr. Almeida is currently unavailable," she informs, scrutinizing me under long lashes.
"I know full well he's around; I've just spent considerable time in his company." It's less of a need and more of a magnetic pull drawing me toward wanting to see him again. "Would you mind calling him anyway, for me? I'm here on business connected to the resort next week. I came early for a little R&R. I didn't expect this reception," I explain, trying to keep my tone light.
"Certainly, ma'am," she replies, her voice still devoid of warmth.
I can't help but watch intently as she dials a number that's probably on speed dial. The tension in the air thickens as I wait, feeling increasingly annoyed by the receptionist's cold demeanor. What's her problem? And why is she making it seem like such a big deal to reach out to Justus? There's definitely more to this situation than meets the eye.
- Writer
