A Very London Christmas – Elodie Hart

It’s cold and refreshing and delicious. ‘I was always interested,’ he says slowly. ‘They would have been pissed off if I hadn’t wanted to take over, yes, but I wanted it enough that I didn’t feel pressured. To be honest, I was itching to get my hands on our hotels business before I even left uni.

There were too many things I disagreed with them on.’ ‘Really? Like what?’ I lean forward, clasp my hands over my knees. ‘They were old-fashioned. Not in terms of aesthetics, but thinking. They were good at investing in what they saw as the showpieces: bars and restaurants. They didn’t see the wellness trend coming, not even when it was firmly established.

I had to push them. ‘But the main trend we disagreed on was couples versus families. Take the Montague. It’s always been a family hotel, but families with a large travel budget want more. They don’t just want a babysitter; they want their kids to have as good a time as them and they want to spend quality time together. My parents lost that traffic because they rested on their laurels.’

‘Was The Playroom your idea?’ ‘Yeah.’ He grins. ‘First thing I did when I took over the reins. They thought I was insane, giving that gorgeous corner of the hotel over to kids. But we’ve reaped the rewards.’ ‘It’s an amazing space. So, you came up with that even before you were a dad yourself?’

He shrugs. ‘It’s not rocket science. You just have to look around you. Pay attention. And stay humble. I’m not sure my parents were very good at the latter. Oh, and never, ever get comfortable. Which leads me to ask you: what are we missing?’ He’s talking to me like an equal, for probably the first time. It’s heady stuff. No wonder he gets model-grade women. No wonder he’s the CEO of a super-successful global hotel chain.

Right now, I’d do whatever he said. Whatever he wanted. The weight of his attention goes to my head a little, and it gives me the confidence to answer as if he’s seriously asking, as if he’s really interested in my reply. And so I tell him about my experiences in The Playroom, and my suggestion that the hotel has so much behind-the-scenes magic to offer the children of VIP guests, based on Bea’s morning in the pastry kitchen.

And he listens. He listens and interjects and asks questions and even pulls out his phone to take notes.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. 1kitap1.com/en Contents 1. Saoirse: Thursday 2 December 2. Saoirse: Friday 3 December 3. Saoirse: Friday 3 December 4. Miles: Friday 3 December 5. Saoirse: Friday 3 December 6.

Miles: Wednesday 8 December 7. Miles: Wednesday 8 December 8. Saoirse: Wednesday 8 December 9. Saoirse: Thursday 9 December 10. Saoirse: Friday 10 December 11. Saoirse: Monday 13 December 12. Saoirse: Tuesday 14 December 13. Saoirse: Tuesday 14 December 14. Miles: Wednesday 15 December 15. Saoirse: Wednesday 15 December 16. Saoirse: Wednesday 15 December 17. Saoirse: Wednesday 15 December 18. Saoirse: Thursday 16 December 19. Saoirse: Friday 17 December 20.

Miles: Friday 17 December 21. Saoirse: Friday 17 December 22. Saoirse: Friday 17 December 23. Saoirse: Friday 17 December 24. Saoirse: Saturday 18 December 25. Miles: Saturday 18 December 26. Saoirse: Saturday 18 December 27. Saoirse: Thursday 23 December 28. Saoirse: Thursday 23 December 29. Saoirse: Thursday 23 December 30.

Miles: Thursday 23 December 31. Saoirse: Friday 24 December 32. Saoirse: Friday 24 December 33. Saoirse: Friday 24 December 34. Saoirse: Friday 24 December 35. Saoirse: Saturday 25 December 1kitap1.com/en T CHAPTER 1 Saoirse: Thursday 2 December he weather outside is frightful. Horizontal rain and slate-grey skies. And inside it is, actually, delightful: in the creche of The Montague Hotel, at least. Less delightfully, it’s my final day working here.

It’s been a fantastic temping gig for the past month, but now it’s up. And that means no job. No money. I only left Ireland a month ago and here I am, in one of the most expensive cities in the world, with no bloody clue what I’ll do for cash. The prospect of slinking back home, my tail between my legs, is becoming alarmingly likely.

I’ll miss this place. You’d think in a hotel as posh as The Montague, smack bang in the middle of Knightsbridge, that the creche for the guests’ children would be stuffed into a basement corner. But no, The Playroom is a glorious square room, with huge windows looking out over Knightsbridge on one side and Hyde Park Corner on the other.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• Unique ID: e59596015af6d444
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 3,162,047 bytes (3.016 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 195
• Language: English (en)

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• Total Words: 59,957
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