Page 3 of Off-Limits Bosses
“Perfect. His only request is for fugu, and the chef can build everything else around that.” I ended the call and turned to him. “Please, Reggie, follow me to the helipad.”
“Seems like you know what you’re doing,” he said from behind me. “Better than the guy before you. Glad they finally managed to get rid of him.”
I paused for a moment at that comment, though I kept moving fairly quickly. Mr. Klein had told me the previous concierge retired, but Reggie’s words made me wonder whether that was the real story. If he had been sacked, what had he done to deserve it?
I didn’t entertain his comment, choosing to call ahead to get the helicopter ready instead of gossiping with a high-profile guest. He sauntered along beside me, as if he couldn’t be bothered to hurry anywhere at all. I slowed my pace to match his, so that I was never too far ahead. At the same time, I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, despite imagining how impressed Mr. Klein would be that I’d managed to arrange all of this on my first day. I’d worry about matching this performance for the rest of my career later.
“They’re almost ready for you,” I told Reggie as we reached the elevator, and he nodded. “In the meantime, is there anything else you need?”
“Nah.” Reggie shrugged as the doors slid open and we walked in. “I think you’ve pretty much covered it.”
He leaned against the wall while I stood in front of the doors and pressed the button for the roof. I wondered how rich Reggie was that it was this easy for him to literally just take a helicopterto breakfast. It seemed more than a little insane to me. But I had to pretend it was a completely normal thing to request.
By the time we left the elevator and stepped out toward the helipad, the helicopter was already there. I led Reggie to one side while we waited for the signal to board.
As we were waiting, however, the elevator dinged, and we both turned. It was only my stomach that dropped, though, when Mr. Klein emerged, his tie flying in the wind and a look on his face that was the opposite of delighted and impressed.
He came over and took me by the arm, leading me out of earshot. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
2
Adriana
My heart started racing, and I hoped that nobody else could hear it. Reggie didn’t react to Mr. Klein, aside from a quick roll of the eyes and placing his sunglasses back on his face.
“Reggie changed his breakfast plans,” I started, hoping that my explanation would be enough. “He doesn’t want to do the terrace. He wants a helicopter to Pebble Beach. So… I arranged it for him.”
Mr. Klein raised an eyebrow at me when Reggie looked away. He didn’t speak, and I took that as a sign that my explanation wasn’t thorough enough. I took a breath, clearing my mind and fighting back the flutters of anxiety that were popping up in my stomach.
“I let the kitchen know about the change, had Pebble Beach book his space, and spoke to the pilot,” I said, but Mr. Klein’s expression stayed fixed and unimpressed. “I’ve got everything handled, I promise.”
“You think so?” Mr. Klein’s tone made me think that I possibly didn’t have anything handled at all. “Did you check the chopper’s schedule? All of them are booked this morning.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the helicopter we were standing closest to. The pilot shrugged at me. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t checked the schedule. I’d assumed they would have said no if they couldn’t help me. It seemed like that wasn’t the case. I needed to be more careful.
“Nolan isn’t happy either,” Mr. Klein continued firmly, though his voice didn’t change in volume. He kept up that strict, solid tone. “He had to trash specially made fugu, which is almost a war crime in his kitchen.”
It was at this point that Reggie actually turned to face Mr. Klein, patting me on the shoulder twice. When he spoke, it was with a teasing tone, with not a hint of seriousness to be found.
“Oh come now, Landon,” he said with a melodramatic sigh. “She’s here to serve me, and she knows it. That’s all she was doing. Frankly, if more of your staff were like her, you’d have a lot less trouble from me. Just have someone bring another chopper for whoever else has booked one. It can’t be that hard.”
“Reggie,” Mr. Klein started, his tone much gentler than it had been with me. “Our concierge is there to serve all of our guests. She must make sure that everyone’s stay is as pleasant as possible. Unfortunately, she can’t provide personalized services that will negatively affect others.”
I kept my mouth shut, deciding that I’d apologize once we were out of public view. At the same time, I wondered how Mr. Klein was planning to solve this situation. Reggie was expecting a helicopter to Pebble Beach, and he seemed to be the kind of guy who didn’t often hear the word ‘no’.
“So, you’re saying I can’t have the chopper?” Reggie asked, still defiant as ever. “Damn. Not sure why I even bother coming here if that’s the kind of service I can expect.”
“I do have a counteroffer,” Mr. Klein answered smoothly, completely unmoved by Reggie’s complaints.
“I’m listening.”
“We do have an open helicopter slot for lunch,” Mr. Klein explained, as a pair of people appeared from the elevator and began walking across the roof. Probably the guests who had actually booked their spot early enough. “We can offer you a trip to Pebble Beach then. I’ll even sweeten the deal with your favorite champagne on ice, which I can arrange to be paired with white almas caviar.”
Now, Reggie leaned forward, seemingly intrigued by Mr. Klein’s offer. “Last week, you told me you couldn’t get that.”
Mr. Klein offered him a small smile. “I’ve been working on it behind the scenes. What do you say, Reggie? Will you have your breakfast on the terrace and treat yourself to Pebble Beach for lunch?”
“Alright, alright,” Reggie laughed, starting to walk away from the helipad. “You’ve won me over again, Landon. I’ll take that offer. The terrace better be ready when I get there, though.”
