“Roxanne’s been sacked for unacceptable behaviour, so…” my boss says as she looks at all of us.

I glance to the side to see the same apprehensive look on my colleagues’ faces that I’m sure I have. No one wants their name to be said next.

“Lilly, you’ve been here the longest, so you get to clean the King’s lair. Stay behind and I’ll go through everything with you.”

I say goodbye to my usual work mates, Imogen and Eve, and await my fate.

I’ve been working mornings cleaning at the hotel since I started uni and discovered most days I don’t have to go in until the afternoon. It’s the perfect opportunity to earn some money so I’m not sponging off Mum and Dad. They’ve done enough, buying the flat Taylor and I live in. I don’t want to take any more from them.

I mostly love it. I say mostly, because you wouldn’t believe the state we find the rooms in some days. And some of the things people bring to a hotel and leave out for the cleaners beggars belief. That being said, it does mean we have some very entertaining mornings!

I watch everyone else leave and follow Hillary towards her office. I spend the next ten minutes listening to what I already know. Mr. Dalton, the hotel’s manager, has very particular tastes and expects things not only to be done his way but also to perfection, hence so many cleaners have come and gone before me. I think the longest one has lasted since Mr. Dalton took over here is two months. I’ve got no hope. I’ll be the first person to say that my cleaning standards aren’t up to scratch for his requirements.

“Can you just read through this and sign please, Lilly?”

I look down at the paperwork Hilary has just pushed over and my chin drops. I always thought it was a rumour that any cleaner that entered the King’s lair, as we’ve all nicknamed it, has to sign an NDA. I mean seriously, what are we likely to find? Let alone tell the world about?

I quickly scan over the paperwork and sign without much thought. I have no intention of spreading whatever gossip Mr. Dalton is worried about around the place. All I really want to do is my job, although that job has just got a million times harder.

“You could look a little more excited, Lilly. You get to work in the best room in the hotel,” Hilary says, trying to focus on the positives.

“Yeah, but how long for? Denise was the best cleaner we’ve had for years and she was gone after two months. I don’t stand a chance.” Not only does Mr. Dalton have immaculate taste—I would say bordering on OCD where cleaning’s concerned—he is young and drop dead gorgeous. Not my type, but still gorgeous. Add his obvious wealth to that and his reputation as a ladies’ man, and some of the women around here have issues containing themselves.

Like I said, he’s hot, but so not for me. He always looks perfect, not a single slicked back piece of hair out of place and not a speck of dust on his sharp suits. I like my men a little more rough around the edges. I want a tattooed bad boy who is actually the biggest sweetheart ever under all the ink and the scruffy, brooding image.

I let out a huge breath as I follow Hilary to the penthouse. I thought I’d found all those things in Jake, until he found drugs and alcohol.

I try to shake off my depressing thoughts as we wait for the lift to take us higher. I promised myself I was going to fight it. I’m moving on with my life, putting that waste of space behind me.

It takes over an hour for Hilary to go through everything: exactly how he prefers his towels to be folded, the order he expects the bottles on his vanity unit to be in, and the perfect little point on the toilet roll…and that’s just the bathroom. Apparently, I’ve even got to line the remote controls up a certain way on his coffee table. It’s utterly insane. By the time she leaves me to it, my head is spinning with everything I’ve got to remember so I still have a job this time tomorrow.

I clean everything in the bathroom twice then triple check everything is in the correct position before attempting the rest of the suite. The chances of me making it to uni this afternoon are slim to none. I’m going to be here for hours. I just hope I get used to his quirks fast so I can speed this whole process up slightly.

I’ve dusted the coffee table and arranged the remote controls exactly as I was shown when my phone rings. I shouldn’t really have it on me, but after everything that happened with Jake, I like to have it to hand at all times. It’s like my security blanket. I also shouldn’t really have black jeans on either, but there we go. Typical that today of all days is the one I forgot to wash my usual black trousers. I’m just hoping the King doesn’t appear while I’m still here because being out of the standard uniform is sure to push his buttons.

I pull it from my back pocket as I fall back on the sofa. The second I see it’s a text from Connie, my stomach does a little flip. I immediately unlock my phone and open the message. My eyes start to well up immediately, because staring back at me is not only my smiling friend but a tiny baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Under the photo it says Noah Fredrick Willis, 7lb 6oz, born at 06.33 on 14^th February.

I’m so happy for Connie and Fin, I really am, but as my first tear hits the phone screen I can’t help feeling hollow.

I zoom in on his little face. His eyes are shut tight, he’s got a cute little button nose and full lips. He’s Fin’s son, that’s for sure.

I drop the phone into my lap and rest my head back on the sofa. I’m so jealous of Connie right now and I hate that I feel that way, but I can’t help it. I’m desperate to experience what she is right now. I’d give anything to have the chance.

My phone ringing interrupts my depressing thoughts. I pull my head up and look down at the screen.

It’s Molly, my unofficial sister. She knows I’m at work, so wouldn’t call unless it was important.

“Hello,” I say as cheerfully as possible when I put the phone to my ear.

“Lilly, what’s wrong?” So that was successful, then.

“Nothing. Connie just sent me a photo of her and the baby and I got a little emotional.”

“Oh my God,” Molly squeals, “Connie’s given birth?”

“Yeah. I thought that was why you were ringing, to tell me.”

“No, I’ve got other news. What did she have?”

I go on to tell her all I know. “So what did you have to tell me?”

“You will not believe what Daniel’s done,” she exclaims.

“Go on.” Knowing Molly’s brother, it could be anything.

“He whisked Beth back off to Paris and proposed on the Eiffel Tower. I just got a photo of the two of them still up there with her wearing this massive rock on her finger. And when I say massive, I mean it’s fucking huge, Lills.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I say, trying to muster up as much happiness as I can. Because just like Connie, it’s not that I’m not happy for them. I’m ecstatic that Daniel’s found someone. I just feel like everyone is moving on with their lives. All this amazing stuff is happening to them but I’m stuck. I’m fighting every day to pull myself out of the pits of hell while everyone around me is enjoying everything life is throwing at them. I feel like I’m still lying in my stairwell six months ago, wondering if I’m going to survive.

I just about manage to get Molly off the phone before I completely break down. Dec, my twin brother, is the only member of my family that knows what happened last summer. Everyone I love has been through so much in the last couple of years with losing my older sister, Hannah, that I kept everything from them. Dec wasn’t happy with my decision, but he stuck by me.

I’m unattractively sobbing on the sofa when I suddenly hear a throat clearing behind me. I jump up from my seat in panic and turn around to see who’s walked in.

My eyes run from his spotlessly polished shoes, up his perfectly pressed trousers and over his waistcoat and crisp shirt until I reach his eyes. They are dark and staring daggers at me. His glare renders me motionless but my heart starts to race. A huge part of me wants to run, run as far away and as fast as I can from this situation. I’ve barely had this promotion two hours and I’ve already screwed it up.

I square my shoulders and stand up. I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the backs of my hands as I wait for the ear bashing I’m about to get for slacking on the job.

Only it doesn’t come.

His eyes start of hard and vicious but as the seconds tick by they begin to soften as he continues to stare at me. I must be mistaken though, because there is nothing about the man stood in front of me that’s soft. He’s a ruthless businessman who tramples on anyone who gets in his way. I have no reason to suspect he’s going to go gentle on me just because I’ve shed a few tears. I raise my chin slightly to him as I prepare for him to tear a strip off me.

He opens his mouth to say something but what comes out shocks the hell out of me. “Are you okay?” There is no harsh demanding tone. Instead, there’s concern. Weird.

“I’m…uh…” I stutter because this is so unexpected. I thought I’d already be on my way home with my P45 in my hand by now. “I’m fine. I just received some news and I…” I don’t continue, because I realise that he really doesn’t care; he’s just trying to be kind and I appreciate that, but I’m here to do a job. “I’ll just get on with it,” I say, gesturing to the room.

I pick up my phone and go to walk past him. I don’t make eye contact. I’m scared he’ll return to his usual self once I get back to work.

I’m frozen to the spot when he moves and clamps his hand around my wrist. I daren’t look up at him because I don’t know what I might find looking back at me—and also because he really doesn’t need to see the fresh tears in my eyes.

“If you need to go and have some time…”

I’m so shocked by his words that my eyes snap up to his. Close up, they look bluer than I thought.

“It…it’s fine, honestly.” My voice quivers, showing that I’m anything but fine really.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he says hesitantly. I can only presume that being in the presence of an emotional woman isn’t the norm for him.

He holds my eye contact and I’m powerless to look away. There are only inches between us. I’m surrounded by his scent and his kindness touches me. Then I do something so unlike me and so utterly stupid that I can’t even comprehend it.

I lean forward and kiss him. I actually kiss him!

I pull back the second my lips touch his, like I’ve been burned. What the hell am I doing?

“I’m sorry,” I mutter before rushing out of the room.

* * *

My heart’s pounding and I’m sweating from running the short distance from the hotel to my flat. I rush up the stairs and through the living room before landing face down on my bed. I scream into my pillow to release my frustration and anger at myself for my appalling behaviour. I scream until the tears take over, then I sob for what feels like hours. I cry sad tears for what I had, for what has been taken from me. I cry happy tears for Daniel and Beth, then some more for Connie, Fin and little Noah. Connie and I have become close friends over the last few months while I helped with her and Fin’s house renovations. Connie’s best friend is my older sister, Emma, and Fin is Emma’s husband’s best friend. It’s all a bit close and complicated, but it’s safe to say I’m jealous of all of them. I know I’m only young and I’ve got all the time in the world, but knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better. It doesn’t even matter when I do find ‘the one’; the chances of me having my own family are slim to none now, thanks the Jake.

I eventually drag my sorry backside into the bathroom for a hot shower, hoping it might wash some of my misery down the drain. It’s wishful thinking though, because when I step out I don’t feel any better. The muscles in my shoulders might be a little less tense, but that’s about it.

I tug on a pair of jogging bottoms, then pull one of Taylor’s giant hoodies over my head. All thoughts of going to uni, or even leaving the flat ever again, are completely gone. Instead, I head to the kitchen and pull out everything I need to lose myself for a few hours. I kick the coffee machine into action and get started.

* * *

When Taylor finds me hours later, it’s with flour in my hair, cake batter splatted over his hoodie and a bottle of vodka and cans of Coke littering the coffee table in front of me. There are also cold mugs of coffee littering the surfaces of the living room and kitchen.

“What happened, Lil?” he asks after he’s assessed the situation.

I met Taylor not long after I started uni. He’s a couple of years older than me as he started late, but he’s also coming towards the end of his degree. He’s studying photography while I do interior design. My wonderful parents bought this flat towards the end of our first year, and we moved in together as soon as we could. We know each other inside out, so I shouldn’t have been expecting him not to question me right now.

“Connie had her baby,” I slur sadly, focusing on the news I’ve received that I can talk about. I have no intention of telling him yet about the disaster that was work this morning.

“Oh,” he responds, looking half happy for Connie and half sad for me.

“A little boy. Noah,” I say, holding my phone up for him to see.

“Aw, cute.” Taylor puts his stuff down, then comes to sit next to me and pulls me to him. He totally engulfs my tiny frame when he bear hugs me, making me feel like a china doll. “It’s going to be okay, Lil.”

Along with Dec, Taylor knows everything that happened last year, as does Connie now as well. None of them agree with me keeping what happened to myself. They think it will help me come to terms with it all if I tell the rest of my family, but I can’t bring myself to do it. My parents and Emma have already been through too much heartache, and my childhood best friend, Nicole, is going through her own nightmare at the moment. None of them need me to burden them with more.

“I know,” I reply as I swallow down my sorrow. “Daniel also proposed to Beth on the Eiffel Tower.”

“No shit. She’s really got him whipped,” he says with a laugh.

When he pulls back from me, he leans down to his bag and grabs something.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says with a smile as he hands me a single rose. The gesture makes my eyes fill with tears. He’s such a sweetheart.

“Thank you, Tay.”

“Dave wasn’t in, so…” he says with a shrug but laughs, telling me he’s joking.

“I love you,” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck. Taylor’s like my adopted brother, there isn’t anything he doesn’t know about me. I’m feeling a little out of the loop where he’s concerned though. He’s been out a lot recently and I have no idea what he’s up to. He’s reluctant to share when I question him about it.

“So what have I got to eat then?” He walks off towards the kitchen that is covered in all sorts of baked goodies, including cupcakes, flapjacks and millionaire’s shortbread. “Bloody hell, Lil, you were on it this afternoon,” he says with a laugh as he shovels an entire cupcake into his mouth in one go. “So good,” he mumbles with a full mouth.

* * *

When I get up the next morning, the kitchen is still covered in a dusting of flour and icing sugar. There are bottles and cans all over the living room and my head is spinning. I take one look at all the cake and run to the toilet to throw up.

“Too much noise,” I hear mumbled from Taylor’s room as I walk past after showering.

I stare daggers at his closed door. I should still be in bed sleeping the effects of the vodka off, not getting dressed to head to work, where I’m pretty I’m going to be fired and sent straight back home the second I get there.

I curse myself when I realise my work trousers are still wet in the washing machine, and pull my skinny jeans back on again. Well, if I’m going to be sacked anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter. As I do up the button, I notice how big they are on me, reminding me how much weight I’ve lost. I didn’t really have any to lose in the first place. I’ve always been skinny and tall. Where most women work towards losing weight and reducing their curves, I’ve always wanted more. I’m practically straight up and down; it makes me feel like a little girl. Especially when I stand next to Molly and Emma—they have such amazing curvaceous figures, and I look like a six-year-old. No guy’s going to look twice at me like this.

I let go of my waistband and look at myself in the mirror. My ribs are sticking out along with my hipbones, and my belly…it’s totally non-existent. The only thing I see now when I look at it is the ugly scar I’ve been left with. A constant reminder of my what happened, of my mistake.

I shake off my thoughts and continue to get ready before heading out. It’s still dark as I walk the short distance to the hotel. I could drive but I find the walk soothing, especially at this time of morning. The early spring is the best when the mornings are crisp but the sun is rising and the birds are singing. It makes everything seem that little bit better. It distracts me from the fact I could be about to go and clean a hotel room that might have used condoms scattered around the place, or some guy’s stained underwear abandoned on the floor. I shudder at the thought of some of the things I’ve found over the last couple of years. But then, I remember my new promotion—if you can call it that. It feels more like I’ve slipped down the ranks having to comply to all the King’s weird quirks. I’m pretty sure only the man himself could do the job. Not that it matters now, because I’m about to be sent on my merry way. I don’t think I’ve got the energy to find a new job right now. I’m in my last few months of uni, and I really don’t need the distraction. I’d hate to have to ask Mum and Dad for money, though. I want to fend for myself where possible.

I’m the first to arrive, exactly as I planned. I want to get this out of the way before the others appear and have to watch me do my walk of shame after handing my ID badge in. I couldn’t bear to see the looks on Imogen and Eve’s faces as I leave.

“Lilly, you’re early,” Hilary says as I walk into the cleaners’ room that houses her desk. “Keen to get started?”

“Something like that,” I mutter. I don’t move to put my stuff in my locker. I just stand behind her, waiting for the inevitable.

“Did you want to ask me something?” Hilary asks when she turns and finds me still stood there. I go to open my mouth, but nothing comes out. “Mr. Dalton was very happy with your work yesterday.”

My chin drops open in shock.

“What’s that face for? I knew you were the right woman for the job, Lilly. Give yourself some credit.”

“I…uh…thanks,” I mutter before turning towards the lockers.

My head is spinning as I head up towards the King’s lair. I kissed him and he hasn’t sacked me. Everyone else who’s tried it on with him has been sent away instantly. Why hasn’t he done that to me?

By the time I’m standing in front of his door, I’m completely confused by the whole thing. Hopefully I can just put the stupid incident behind me and move on like it never happened.

Thankfully, his suite is in silence when I enter. I don’t think I could have coped with seeing him again. In fact, I would be quite happy never seeing him again.

I’ve only got the bedroom to do when I hear the door open. My heart lurches into my throat. But when someone shouts, it’s not the voice I was expecting.

“Lilly?” I want to groan at the sound of her high-pitched voice. It’s a little like nails down a blackboard. Catherine is the operations manager. She’s in charge of us and likes to make sure we know it. Hilary can’t stand her, and that’s saying a lot because Hilary is the sweetest woman I know. Catherine is a class A bitch. She likes to throw her weight around and get involved with stuff she has no idea about. She’s the one who put a time limit for cleaning each hotel room. She’s never cleaned a hotel room in her life—how the hell would she know how long it takes to do it properly?

“Yes, in here,” I answer quietly in the hope that she won’t hear me and go back wherever she came from. “Oh,” I say in surprise when I see her in the doorway. In her arms is a huge bunch of lilies. And I mean huge.

“Please refrain from having people send you flowers at work,” she snaps before putting them down on the side and marching off.

“Who on earth is sending me flowers?” I question as I walk over. My first thought is Taylor. He must know I’m not feeling great today, but he’s never sent flowers before. Dec, maybe?

I stand in front of them and admire the gigantic flowers for a minute before hunting down the card.

When I pull it out, I’m even more confused.

What the hell?

I leave the flowers where they are for now and set about finishing the King’s bedroom. I change the sheets, then spend a ridiculous amount of time faffing around with the show pillows and throw to get them just right. It’s frustrating as hell. I like things clean and organised, but this is just crazy. I briefly think about the state I left the flat in. Something to look forward to after uni this afternoon…

The rest of my morning goes by in a haze of confusion as I think about who the flowers could be from and what they mean.

I’m just finishing up when a thought hits me. No, surely not. They couldn’t be from Jake. Although I refused to press charges against him in fear it would make it drag on, I know that Dec and Taylor ‘sorted’ the situation, so to speak. I would like to think he’s long gone.

The small amount of doubt that they could be from him has me looking over my shoulder all afternoon. I know it’s crazy, but I’m terrified of ever seeing him again. His memory is enough.

* * *

I’ve just about got the flat sorted by the time Taylor appears later that evening. He looks pleased to see me in a better state than yesterday. Keeping my job has perked me up a little.

“Feeling better?” he asks as he leans a hip against the worktop.

“Yes thank you.”

“I’m going out tonight. Come with?”

“No, you’re okay. I’ve got loads of work to do.”

“Oh come on, Lil, you haven’t been out for a drink with me in forever.”

It’s true, I haven’t. But I just don’t feel like it. I’ll feel like an idiot dressed in whatever I pick out that is too big for me. Plus, I’m still hanging on to a bit of last night’s hangover. “I’m sorry, I’ve got a deadline.” This is true, but it’s not for a long time.

“Fine,” he says as he rushes off to his room to get ready. I feel bad not going with him. Over the past few months I feel like we’ve been drifting apart. Taylor’s always out doing whatever—or whoever—it is he does while I’ve been hiding here. I’ve no idea what’s going on with him but I have a suspicion that it involves a man.

I spend the night working, just like I said I was going to. I’ve just got into bed when I hear a commotion at our front door before the noise disappears into Taylor’s bedroom. His room is the opposite end of the flat, but sometimes that isn’t far enough away, and I get the feeling that tonight is going to be one of those nights.