My headache intensified. Out the window, the sun was sinking behind the mountains, giving us a hell of a sunset. “I need a drink.”

Rising, I stalked over to a cabinet, and lifted a decanter. I looked at the others.

“Count me in,” Tristan said.

Piper nodded.

I poured the Dalmore Single Malt Scotch and handed the crystal glasses to the others. We all took sips, and I took a second to savor the flavor.

I’d been the CEO of Langston Hotels for eighteen months. I’d taken over from my father—and it had been a hostile change. He still liked to complain about it.

The thing was, while he hadn’t exactly run the company into the ground, he hadn’t done much good for it either. The older properties were getting dated, the company hadn’t made any new acquisitions in years. Our brand had dipped in popularity. He’d kept pay raises, benefits, and training for the staff at a minimum, meaning we had higher turnover, and it had shown in the staff skill level. He’d recently divorced, and Niall Langston was more interested in chasing ever younger wives than running the business. I took a longer swig of my drink. It hadn’t taken much for me to convince the board to let me take over.

As soon as I’d taken control, I’d been determined to correct my father’s mistakes and make my mark. I would make Langston Hotels the premier destination for travelers all around the world.

“Windward gets my full attention,” I said.

“Good, because the locals are… Less than enthusiastic about being a part of Langston Hotels.” Piper swirled her drink.

Tristan made a sound. “I heard there’s been an uptick in angry hate mail over the purchase. Apparently, we’re going to come in and ruin this pristine mountain paradise.”

“I sent a consultant up there to work with the hotel manager for a preliminary inspection,” Piper said.

“Tessa Ashford.” I’d met her. She’d been helpful, while poorly hiding her displeasure over the acquisition. She was a neat, trim brunette, smart and earnest, with the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen.

I lifted my glass again. Her eyes really weren’t important.

Now, she responded to my emails with unfailing politeness that I knew hid a wealth of tartness.

“She… bustled him around, assured him that everything was great.” Piper sniffed. “Nothing needed changing. He sounded smitten.”

I frowned. The Windward Mountain Resort was in dire need of updating. There was a potential we’d knock it down and rebuild.

We didn’t need old, dark, and musty in a prime location.

Windward attracted tourists, but there was potential to turn it into the next Aspen. We needed a successful, modern resort with top-notch amenities that would be the jewel in the Langston Hotels crown.