I can’t get the image of her grief-stricken face out of my head. It’s been four fucking days and it’s still there.

I couldn’t fucking believe it when I came back to my room at the beginning of the week to find my newest cleaner laid out naked on my bed. Seriously, what is wrong with these women? I must have been through at least ten different cleaners since I took over this hotel just over six months ago. Why can’t they just do the job they are paid to do, and not think that just because they are cleaning my room it gives them the right to think I want them? I made the mistake of getting too close to a colleague once before, and it’s not happening again. Unlike her, though, thankfully cleaners are pretty easy to come by, so I can get them replaced pretty quickly.

Then she turned up. Even her tears didn’t distract from how stunning she was with her golden hair, blue eyes and pink lips. I usually don’t waste any time where the opposite sex is concerned—I just take what I want, then move on. But as I stood staring at her, a little voice in my head kept saying, She works for you, don’t do anything stupid.

I stood watching her cry for the longest time as my head and body argued against each other. My body wanted her; my head knew it was wrong. Then the business side of me wanted to demand to know why she wasn’t doing her job, or wearing the correct uniform, or why she’d been on the phone. I almost marched down to Hilary and demanded to know where she finds these women from. All I want is someone who can do a half decent job of keeping the place clean and tidy. Is it really that much to ask?

When I made myself known, I was shocked by the fear in her eyes. I’ve been told before that I can be intimidating, but no one’s ever said they’ve been actually scared of me before. The second she looked at me, her eyes widened and I swear her hands started to shake.

She went to leave, but for some reason, that felt wrong. Not only had she affected me, but she was clearly very upset. I couldn’t watch her leave though, and for some reason as she stepped past me my arm moved without instruction and grabbed her.

I raise my fingertips to my lips. No matter how much I try, I can’t get rid of how it felt when she kissed me. It was the most innocent of kisses, but it’s affected me like no other.

* * *

I’ve kept away from my room every morning since. I’ve almost convinced myself that I dreamt it all and she doesn’t exist.

I’ve managed without my phone all morning. I know exactly where it is—it’s on the shelf above the basin where I left it in the rush to get to my meeting this morning. Deciding it must be safe, I head up to my room to get it before I leave the hotel for the afternoon.

It’s silent as I pass through the living room, so I relax a little. Everything looks great as I walk through. Apparently, I have a reputation for being a pain in the arse when it comes to how I want my stuff. I think it’s been blown out of proportion though, because as long as it’s clean and tidy, I don’t really care. I couldn’t care less how the towels are folded or how the pillows on my bed are arranged. I’m a guy for fuck’s sake, I don’t even know why I’ve got to have extra pillows on my bed. I’m more than happy with the normal amount just used for sleeping on.

My head is already focused on the meeting I have this afternoon with the builders to discuss the renovation for this place. I bought it just over six months ago. I had planned to start work on it right away, but it was clear from the first day that the major problems with it were the systems in place to run it. I brought in Catherine, and together we’ve basically started from scratch. Thanks to her, this hotel is now running like a well-oiled machine, so it’s time for it to have a new look.

All thoughts of golden blonde hair evaporate as I focus on what I need to talk to the builder about, but that’s all shattered when I step foot in my bathroom.

She’s bent over the bath with her arse stuck right up in the air.

The desire to walk up behind her is huge. Instead, I grab on to the sides of the doorframe to keep me where I am. My movement must catch her attention, because she instantly flicks her head around to look at me before standing up.

“Good afternoon,” I say as I try to keep my eyes on her face and not let them roam.

“Af…Afternoon, Sir.” Her response makes me smile.

“Please don’t call me that. It makes me sound ancient.” It’s obvious I’m older than her, but I don’t need her making me sound like I’m heading for retirement.

“Okay…sorry Mr. D…Dalton,” she stutters out nervously. I can’t help the rush of excitement that goes through me as I think about her reactions around me.

“It’s Lucas.”

“Okay, well…I’d better get on.” Just as she finishes her sentence, the sound of her stomach rumbling fills the bathroom. She flushes pink and turns away from me.

“Have you had lunch?”

“No,” she mumbles as she starts scrubbing the tiles harshly.

“I’ll get you something sent up.” She drops the sponge and spins my way. The shocked look on her face makes me smile.

“I’m fine, thank you.” As if to prove she’s lying, her belly does it again.

“Have you even had breakfast?”

She shrugs one shoulder up as she whispers that she had a banana on the way to work this morning.

“That was hours ago. I’m getting you lunch, no arguments.”

Her mouth drops open as if she’s going to say something, but she decides against it. She must realise she won’t win if she starts something.

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking slightly embarrassed. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Any preference?”

She just shakes her head in response. Now the shock has worn off, I can see some of the sadness she had the other day seep into her features.

“Did you get the flowers?”

“They were from you?” she asks, completely startled.

“Yeah.”

“Why? I’m sorry, I mean, thank you, they were gorgeous. But why did you give them to me?”

“You said you’d had some bad news, I presumed…” I trail off when the look on her face tells me I’ve missed something. “No one died?”

“No,” she says with a laugh. That laugh does funny things to my insides. “One of my friends had a baby.”

“Oh…but you looked so sad,” I say as I take a step towards her.

“Long story. They were happy tears.”

“You’re lying,” I state, because it’s true.

“I’m not. I’m really happy for them.”

“I’m sure you are, but they weren’t happy tears.”

My body continues forward until I’m stood right in front of her. Her breath catches at my closeness. Her scent mixes with the cleaning products she’s been using and it makes me mouth water. I reach over her shoulder and grab my phone, which is exactly where I left it. The screen tells me I need to shift my arse if I’m going to get to this meeting on time.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” The words are out of my mouth before my brain realises it’s happened. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. She works for me. It goes against everything I’ve told myself I shouldn’t do. Maybe she’ll say no. It’s wishful thinking, since I’ve never been turned down before, but it’s worth a shot.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay, thank you.” I’m still close enough to her that as she speaks her breath tickles my neck, and fuck if it doesn’t bring my body to life. I haven’t had sex in…a long time for me. I’ve been too busy sorting this place out. This is fucking torture.

I step back once her words register.

“No?” I ask, in case I heard that wrong.

She bites down on her bottom lip and I almost groan. Shit, I want to be the one doing that.

“I’m sorry, Lucas. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Right…okay. Well, I’ll see you around then.” I quickly turn around and leave her standing there as I head for my car. I sit in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, processing what just happened.

No one’s ever said no before.

She might as well have just kicked me in the bollocks.

The look on his face when I said no stayed with me for a long time after he’d gone. He really wasn’t expecting that. He’s good looking, yeah, and loaded, but who does he think he is? Brad bloody Pitt? The idea that a woman couldn’t possibly say no to him makes him even less of my type than before. I don’t want a guy who thinks that much of himself.

I shake the thought from my head as I continue eating the lunch Lucas sent up as promised—a huge cheese and tomato baguette with chips and a side salad. I can’t deny that I wasn’t starving, so this is gratefully received and will get me through uni this afternoon.

I don’t see or hear from Lucas again for a week. To begin with, I start to think he’s avoiding me after I refused to go out with him, but when I learn he’s been away at his other hotels I want to slap myself around the face for even considering that he might have cared about it that much. I’m sure the sting of my rejection lasted all of ten seconds. He’ll have found some other woman to stroke his ego, I’m sure.

Weirdly though, it seems he’s still thinking about me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that, because every day I’ve been at work I’ve found something left for me. The first day, there was a tray on the coffee table. It had a card with my name on it, a plate of chocolate biscuits and a pot of tea. I wanted to be defiant and refuse his gift, but the chocolate called to me, so after arguing with myself for a whole five minutes I sat down and enjoyed my morning snack.

Day two was a Danish pastry and a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice. Day three was fruit scones and another pot of tea. And finally, on day four, which was Sunday morning, an entire plate of a full English breakfast was delivered to the door. I almost sent it away. This whole thing was getting ridiculous, but second the smell of bacon hit my nose I knew I couldn’t do that, so I took the tray from the sheepish looking guy stood at the door and wolfed the lot down. I barely came up for air it was so good.

I hate to admit it, but I missed my little treats on my days off. It wasn’t the same, having to make my own breakfast.

Although I knew when he was due back—the gossip around the staff in this place is just like being in a school playground—I could tell from the moment I stepped foot in reception the next day. It was like everyone I’d seen was on edge. I hadn’t realised the atmosphere around the place had relaxed over the past week, but seeing the difference today makes it obvious.

“He’s back,” Imogen whispers in my ear as we gather for our morning briefing.

“I know, everyone’s running around like they’ve got rockets shoved up their backsides,” I say with a laugh as Hilary comes in, looking a little flustered.

Everyone gets given their schedule and a pep talk before they all disappear.

“Lilly, hang on a minute.” Hillary lets the others grab their stuff and leave before she says anything. “Sorry I haven’t touched base with you the last few days. I’ve been busy training up new staff. How’s it going up there? I’ve heard great things.”

“Yeah it’s…uh…good, I guess. Great things from who?” I ask, a little baffled.

“Mr. Dalton, obviously. He says you’re doing a great job. Apparently, the place was perfect when he arrived back last night.”

I can’t help a surge of pride rush through me that the man who has such high expectations thinks I’m doing a good job. And then another thought hits me. Is he just saying this to sweeten me up for a date, just like he must be doing with the food deliveries? A bolt of anger hits me the second I think about it. How dare he? Just because he’s not bossing me around, then sacking me like all the others, it doesn’t mean I have to accept his dinner invitation.

I say goodbye to Hillary and storm towards his room, thoroughly ticked off. I do my usual routine around the suite, but it doesn’t take as long as usual as he hasn’t been here all week, so I continue a job I’d started but not finished recently—the high up stuff that hardly ever gets touched.

I’m quite happily balanced on the arm of the chair dusting the very top shelf in the living area when the slamming of the door makes me jump. I spin around in fright but manage to lose my footing at the same time. I close my eyes and brace myself for the pain of hitting the floor, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, I find my face squashed against a rock-solid chest that just so happens to be covered in one of his usual expensive suits.

“What are you doing, balancing on there? We have health and safety procedures for a reason, Lilly,” he chastises bluntly. Now this is more like the Mr. Dalton I was expecting since I started cleaning his suite: rude, abrupt and arrogant. I knew his true colours could only be covered for so long.

Thankfully, he puts me back down on my feet. I step away from him because his smell is messing with my brain’s ability to function.

“S…sorry, Mr. Dalton,” I say like a naughty child.

“It’s Lucas,” he snaps.

“Sorry,” I repeat.

“What the hell were you doing?”

“Dusting.”

“Well, get a ladder next time. The paperwork I’d have to do if you’d hurt yourself is a bitch of a job,” he says sternly, but his lip twitches up at the side, so I’m not sure how serious he’s being.

“Okay, well…thank you for…saving me?” I say, but it sounds like a question.

I just bend down to pick up my duster when he speaks again. Only this time, his voice is deeper and huskier—dare it say it? Sexier.

When I look back up at him, his blue eyes have darkened and he has a smirk on his face. “You should probably thank me properly.”

“Should I?”

“Yes,” he states and he takes a step towards me. “Thank me by agreeing to dinner with me tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr…Lucas,” I say, correcting myself.

“I don’t care if it’s a fucking good idea or not, Lilly.” I cringe at his harsh words. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“No, Lucas,” I say, mustering up some strength from somewhere. Being this close to him and under his gaze makes it hard to think, let alone stand up for myself. “I think I’m finished for the day,” I say in a panic, because I need to get away from him as soon as possible. I have a feeling that he’s going to do whatever he can to get his own way here.

“Fine, but you will agree eventually.” Thankfully, he steps aside and lets me leave. It’s not until the door closes behind me that I let out the breath I was holding. I lean back against the wall and shut my eyes. I try to relax, but he’s got to me more than I want to admit. Eventually, I push off the wall and get as far away from him as I can.

* * *

“Lilly, you’ve got a visitor.”

I quickly wrap a towel around my body before pulling the door open to see who it is. I’m presuming it’s either Molly or Emma, so I don’t think twice about covering up more. I realise this is a huge mistake when I turn the corner to the living room.

Stood in the middle of the room, with Taylor gawping at him, is Lucas. What the hell is he doing here?

Taylor doesn’t notice I’ve walked in because he’s too busy drooling. Lucas is just his type, perfectly put together and once again wearing a suit. Taylor will be gutted he bats for the wrong team. Lucas spots me the second I enter, though. His eyes hold mine for a second before they slowly take in my towel-clad body. Damn it.

“Lilly,” he says, after clearing his throat. “We’re going to dinner.”

Lucas’ words distract Taylor, who turns to me with a massive grin on his face. Oh, here we go.

“No, we’re not. I’m fairly sure I turned down your offer of dinner earlier.”

“Lilly,” Taylor starts. He grabs my arm and turns us so we are slightly away from Lucas. “You cannot say no to that. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Meh, he’s alright. But I’m not going out with him.”

“Yes you are. One, he’s gorgeous,” he starts using his fingers to count his points. I inwardly groan as to how many reason he’s going to find that I should go. “Two, you haven’t been out in…well…forever. Three, he looks like he’s got money. Have you seen that suit? You’re guaranteed to have an amazing meal. Four, you need to enjoy yourself, maybe get laid—you work too hard. Five, did I mention he’s gorgeous? Six—”

“Yeah, alright, I get your point,” I snap, interrupting him. “He’s my boss, Tay. I have no intention of dating him.”

“He’s your boss?” he asks, turning to look directly at Lucas, who is still stood in the middle of the room with an amused expression on his face. I can only presume he’s heard every word, because Taylor isn’t exactly being quiet.

“Yes, he’s my boss. I’m not going out with him.”

“Can you get me a job with you? I could do with seeing that daily.”

“Taylor, can you be serious for a minute? It’s a bad idea. Plus, he’s not my type.”

“Oh, perfect isn’t your type?”

Taylor and I stare at each other for a solid minute having a silent conversation. When it becomes clear I’m not going to win, I look away. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

“She’ll be ready in thirty minutes. Make yourself at home.”

I get dragged none to gently to my room, then shoved down on the bed while Taylor starts raiding my wardrobe.

“There’s no point looking. I haven’t got anything to wear—not that will fit, anyway.”

“Yes, you have. Where is that little black dress?”

“No no no, I’m not wearing that.”

“Yes, you are,” he states. “You’ll look hot.”

After draping the dreaded dress over the edge of my bed, Taylor turns and starts rummaging through my underwear drawer.

“I knew I bought you these for a reason.”

When I look up, I see he’s got the tiny bit of fabric he bought me for Christmas hanging off his index finger. He decided I was too young to be spending my days in cotton knickers. I disagreed.

“I’m not wearing that.” I can’t imagine anything worse.

He gives me a look that tells me I’m going to do exactly as he says. Great.

Twenty minutes later, I’m stood in front of my full-length mirror. I might be looking at myself, but all I can see is Hannah, my older sister. She died in a car crash two years ago. She was such a huge part of our family, and it left everyone crushed, especially Emma, her twin, who was in the car with her at the time.

Things haven’t been the same since she died, but what I really struggle with is how much I look like her. Not only does it affect me when I look in the mirror, but I know everyone else sees her when they look at me. Emma is the only one who has admitted she’s found it hard to deal with, and apologised for distancing herself from me after the accident. Dec, my twin, is a typical guy and would never admit his feelings, but I know him almost better than I know myself, and I’ve seen how he looks at me sometimes. Mum and Dad would never admit it, but deep down I know they feel it. I can only imagine what it must be like to lose a child, your first born, let alone having a younger child that looks just like them.

Although it’s hurt, I’ve tried to give them all some space while they’ve attempted to get their lives back on track. I hate that I’m not as close to them all as I used to be, growing up. I know I’ve always got Dec on my side. He may be hundreds of miles away in Exeter, but we’re so close that most days it feels like he’s right beside me. Plus, I’ve got Taylor, Imogen and Eve here in Cheltenham with me. They are amazing, and I don’t know what I’d do without them.

“You look incredible, Lil,” Taylor says as he comes to stand behind me.

I run my eyes over my body. I’m not sure incredible is quite the right word, but I look good, better than I have in a long time. My dress, although a little looser than it should be, is hugging my body. It has tiny spaghetti straps, an open back and a short hemline. My very minimal chest is just about covered with two triangles of the black fabric. I never show this much skin. I only bought the damn dress for someone’s twenty-first at uni last year; she demanded a dress code for her Vegas-style night.

I tug at the fabric, trying to cover up some side boob, but my hand gets slapped away by Taylor. “Stop fussing. You look perfect. Now get out there and knock his fucking socks off before I attempt to turn him.”

“Fine,” I mutter as I give myself one last look over in the mirror. I grab my blazer and my bag before heading for the living to find my boss—I mean date—while attempting to ignore the feeling of the scrap of fabric I’m meant to be referring to as underwear as I walk.