His tone was perfectly professional.
She understood immediately that he was giving her a choice.
To acknowledge him.
Or pretend.
Célestine looked toward the other interviewers.
Then back at Alaric.
“I don’t believe so, Monsieur.”
His smile disappeared.
“How unfortunate.”
He took his seat.
The interview began.
For twenty minutes, Célestine performed brilliantly.
She spoke about family accessibility, historic properties, multilingual services, and ways hotels could genuinely accommodate parents rather than simply offering miniature bathrobes.
Alaric listened.
He found himself impressed despite everything.
Then the human-resources director asked about Léonie.
“Your daughter must keep you busy.”
Célestine felt her throat tighten.
“She does.”
“And your husband is supportive of your return to full-time work?”
“Very.”
Alaric slowly placed his pen on the table.
Célestine avoided looking at him.
When the interview ended, the other panel members thanked her.
Alaric remained seated.
“Madame Vauclair.”
She stopped at the door.
“A moment, please.”
The room emptied.
Then there were only the two of them.
He opened her application.
“Your husband.”
Célestine remained standing.
“Yes?”
“And your daughter.”
She said nothing.
Alaric looked up.
“Tell me something, Célestine.”
Hearing him use her first name made her stomach twist.
“Was he waiting at home while you kissed me in Menton?”
Her face drained of colour.
“Alaric…”
He closed the file.
“I think we’d better start again.”
Célestine did not immediately confess everything.
That became the first serious mistake in a long series of attempts to repair the original one.
She explained that her private life was complicated.
She said that she’d recently gone through difficult circumstances.
That she had not expected to see him again.
Alaric listened without interrupting.
Finally, he said, “Are you married?”
She looked down.
“Not exactly.”
“That’s an interesting answer.”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
Célestine opened her mouth.
But she thought about her mother.
The bills.
The possibility of losing a job she hadn’t even obtained yet.
And the words would not come.
Alaric watched her struggle.
Something in his expression softened.
Then he looked at her application again.
“You have excellent qualifications for the work.”
She looked up.
“Thank you.”
“But this position comes with strict eligibility requirements.”
“I know.”
He studied her for another moment.
Then stood.
“The recruitment team will be in touch.”
He opened the door for her.
Célestine walked out with her heart pounding.
Two days later, she received an offer.
It was conditional upon the usual document checks and successful completion of the probationary period.
The salary was more than she’d dared hope for.
She accepted.
Then she stared at the signed contract and realised the problem had not disappeared.
It had merely become harder to escape.
Working under Alaric was unlike anything Célestine had imagined.
He was demanding.
Not cruel.
Not unfair.
Just relentlessly precise.
He expected employees to arrive prepared, explain their reasoning, and defend their decisions with evidence.
Célestine discovered that he disliked flattering presentations more than he disliked mistakes.
During her second week, she challenged a proposed redesign for one of the company’s family suites.
“The storage is too high,” she said during a meeting.
The senior designer frowned.
“It’s a luxury hotel, Madame Vauclair.”
“Children still need to reach their own coats in luxury hotels.”
Someone coughed to conceal a laugh.
Alaric looked at the drawings.
“She’s right.”
The designer turned toward him.
“Alaric…”
“Lower the hooks.”
