Checking the en suite bathroom, I discover it’s been emptied and scrubbed. I guess I tainted his house with my sin, pity he can’t un-taint himself, eh?
I take a deep breath and think. Just think.
I could stage a protest, but what’s the point?
There is none.
I take out my phone and search for a cab company, dialling.
“Hi, hello. I need a cab…” I’m told one is available. “Might it be large enough for a bit more luggage than usual?” I start reeling off what I’ve got. The lady then tells me there’s a minibus but it’ll cost extra and I’ll have to wait half an hour. “That’s fine, thanks. Thank you.”
I manage to get everything downstairs in the hallway, including my precious dressing table. I bought it at a warehouse clearance. It’s solid oak with glass handles. The triple mirror itself would usually have cost hundreds but I got the whole set, including stool, for a mere £500. I’m sure my father was hoping to sell it or something and make some money. For now, I’ll have to store all this in my office at work… and take a shower in one of the empty hotel rooms while nobody’s looking.
I’m on my dinner break at six when I discover a number of texts from Ruben. Most of them are dirty and pining, but I don’t have the energy to play that game tonight. I take the foil off the top of my dinner which I just brought in from the restaurant, shut my office door and plonk myself behind my desk. Then I dial him.
“Freya, hey. How’s it going?”
I struggle to form words so I just groan.
“That bad?”
“Yeah, listen, you’re on speaker so no naughty talk. There might be vents in here or something. Or earwigs I don’t know about.”
“No fun,” he groans.
“Listen, something happened earlier.”
I hear breath leave him. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. I’m eating dinner in my office, surrounded by all my worldly possessions. I showered in the bridal suite today. I didn’t even shave my armpits, I was so scared someone would walk in and find the manager in a sad fucking state.”
I take a deep breath and fight my tears.
“What the fuck happened?” he asks.
“Please, Ruben. I can’t talk about it over the phone.”
“You’ll move in with me.”
“No, I can’t. It’s not right. I’ll stay in one of the rooms until I find somewhere. I’ve got some money put aside.” I’ve got the money Mum gave me, as well as a nest egg she never knew I had. Maybe she never imagined I was planning, too.
“Freya, you’re being silly. We’re in love. I have a home for you here. Please.”
“It’s too soon,” I exclaim, “far too soon. If we rush it, everything might go wrong. We don’t know what’s around the corner. It’d be a long commute for me every day, too. I just… I can’t.”
“You shouldn’t be working there in that dustbowl in the first place. A hundred better hotels here would kill to have someone like you working for them.”
I laugh loudly down the phoneline. “It’s easier said than done.”
“Well, I don’t care what you say. I’ll be there at the end of your shift tonight. You shouldn’t be alone. Either you stay there and I stay with you, or you let me bring you home. Up to you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry. “Ruben, please.”
“No way, Freya. I’m the reason this has happened, right?”
I cough on disbelief… on sadness. “He’s a fucking psycho.”
“If he hurt a hair on your—”
“No, they weren’t even there. My stuff was just… packed.”
He tuts loudly over the phone, then he tuts and clucks some more. “Fucking hell.”
I should tell Ruben this is nothing in comparison to what he did in the past, but I can’t be arsed with unspooling that whole sorry history, not right now.
“I’m gonna eat my dinner before it gets cold.”
“I’ll see you later. I love you.”
I take a deep breath and tuck into my dinner. I still have the function rooms to check over tonight, ready for a conference tomorrow, and also a staff member to give a disciplinary to… over insalubrious acts committed in a hotel room. I mean, how would it look if I brought said staff member in here to give them a telling-off? With all my junk piled high around us! It’s a good job I have other rooms in this hotel to conduct insalubrious business.
By ten o’clock I’m dealing with the headache of all headaches and wishing the ground would swallow me whole. I wanted to sack insalubrious guy (aka my head porter) on the spot when he tried to argue his way out of using empty rooms to fuck members of the kitchen staff. He said everybody does it… and I said well everyone doesn’t get caught. Unfortunately, he was spotted helping himself to one of the rooms by our resident busybody Grace, my deputy. If I don’t deal with the porter over this, she’ll go over my head to the regional managers and I’ll look bad. She’s been eyeing up my job ever since she walked through the door here. I don’t know why she doesn’t just work elsewhere. This is why I most definitely keep my private life separate to work—and today has possibly been the worst day for the two to converge in the way that they have, with my obvious homelessness threatening to leak out and become gossip around the hotel.
There’s a tap on the door of my office and I almost shit myself. I quickly scan the invoices in front of me and sign them off, tucking them back into the folder they came in.
“Who is it?” I yell.
“It’s me.”
God, he’s here? Like here-here? Like he found his way right into my inner sanctum, where no member of staff dares to tread unless they’ve been specifically summoned…
“Come in.”
He lets himself in and closes the door behind him. I sigh just looking at him. He’s gorgeous and fresh-faced and I’m me, headache and homelessness and all.
I toss the invoices into my out-tray. “Please don’t say you asked for me on the desk?”
He eyes my belongings stacked up in the corner before rounding my desk, putting his hands on my shoulders and kissing the top of my head.
“I hung around for a bit to see where your little worker ants go in and out of, then I snuck in to the offices here. Nice office, by the way.” He gestures at my shabby surroundings, at the exposed pipes and peeling paint… the dying pot plants that don’t get watered when I’m not here. There’s nothing to admire, plus it’s hideously cold in winter and it doesn’t matter how many smellies I use, the place still stinks of the kitchens and mildew, combined. I hate it.
My hotel is huge, and being positioned in a pretty little village right next to Heathrow, we get every man and his dog staying here. It’s not glamorous, but it is varied. I meet more nationalities of people every week than the average person meets in a lifetime.
“Ready to get out of here, then?” He tries to sound chipper to pep me up, maybe.
I tense all over. He probably spent all day expecting me to come running, but he hasn’t considered that I do have other options.
I push my chair back and tuck it under my desk, standing right in front of him. His gaze runs the length of my body, from my blouse to my high-waisted pencil skirt and low-heeled Mary Janes.
I’m swiftly brought into his arms, his rough hands on my waist. I look him in the eye and warn, “I just disciplined a porter today for fucking in this hotel.”
“What did you do to him? Whip or cane?”
I press my lips together but it’s no use, I end up throwing my head back laughing.
He kisses my throat before I wrap my hands behind his neck and push my nose against his. He has that lusty look in his eye, but he’s also concerned. He’s searching my eyes, seeking approval or something.
“The cottages on the estate are empty this time of year, but I was thinking of stealing a key.” They only get used when there’s a big wedding on, or if one of Elton John’s mates really hasn’t been able to get a room elsewhere.
“Ruben, I can’t.”
It’s much too risky. He’s rushing things. Plus, there’s the probability I’ll spend one night at his house and I won’t ever want to leave. I’ll give up my job to be with him, and when it’s all over, I’ll have nothing left. This job has sometimes been the only thing I’ve had.
There’s another knock on my door and we spring apart.
“Who the fuck is this?” I mutter, because people know better than to approach me once my shift is officially over.
I straighten myself and smooth my clothing before bellowing, “Yes?”
A young girl walks in and shuts the door behind her. She eyes me carefully and I recognise her as Millie, one of our kitchen assistants. She looks rattled to say the least.
“Take a seat, Millie.” Normally I’d shoo her out, but tonight she looks like death. She hasn’t even noticed my belongings in the corner. Maybe she’d think it was all miniature toiletries anyway, enough to fill three huge suitcases… “What can I do for you?”
She eyeballs Ruben but he stands reclining against one of the filing cabinets, as if he’s here for business reasons, not personal. He couldn’t look any more handsome in his jeans, boots, navy sweater and Barbour coat.
“I heard Wayne got in trouble.”
“He’s on a warning, Millie. For having sex on the premises.”
I don’t care who knows other people’s gossip in this place, only that they don’t know mine.
She bursts into tears and my eyes widen. I glance at Ruben who pulls a face.
“I can’t lose this job, Freya,” she says. “I just can’t.”
She sobs into her hands before I pass her a tissue, which she accepts rather gratefully. I’m confused as to why this girl thinks she’s in trouble, when it suddenly clicks.
“Can I give you a piece of advice, Millie?”
“Go on.”
“Grace was the one who saw Wayne heading into a room with someone in kitchen uniform, but she couldn’t say who exactly it was, only that the girl in question had blonde hair. I’d say at least a dozen of our staff have blonde hair, but you’re the only one with red hair.”
Millie’s face is a picture as she turns beetroot.
“I will catch him again and when I do, he’ll be out,” I stress. “So, if I were you, I’d drop that toad like a stone and move on with your life. Only scum like him take sweet girls like you into hotel rooms instead of back home to their mothers, understand?”
“Thanks, Freya… the other girls… they said you’d be good… said you’d be fair. I only went the once and he didn’t want owt to do with me after that. Still, I thought I’d be in big trouble for it.”
My jaw sets, thinking about this lothario under my roof. “As I said, I will have him out, sooner rather than later.” If only to keep Grace’s mitts off my job. “Don’t worry, Millie. Okay?” I round the desk and encourage her out of the door. She catches her breath and even hugs me around my waist on her way out, being that she’s diminutive and all.
“It won’t happen again, I swear,” she promises.
“See for your sake more than anyone else’s that it doesn’t.”
As soon as she’s gone, Ruben walks up behind me, wraps his arms around me and growls in my ear, “There’s a kilo of chocolate waiting in the car. I almost bought flowers but thought fuck it.”
Will this man ever stop?
“You’re learning fast, aren’t you?”
I could weep right now, but I won’t—it’d feel like I’m giving into the sadness my father wants to evoke in me, and I don’t want to give him that satisfaction—known or unknown, I’ll never allow myself to cry because of him.
“It’s my pleasure to look after you.” He grasps me tighter and for just a few minutes more, I allow him to hold me and help me forget today ever happened.
Chapter Eleven
First Date – Two Years Ago
I was working late one night when I got his first text: So, do you want to get that drink? Ruben x
I’d been wondering if he was going to get in touch. At the wedding he’d made such a song and dance about getting my number, but something had told me he wasn’t interested in fucking me, otherwise he would have made his move that night. For some reason, I had definite reservations about his motives.
Sat behind my desk, I fiddled with the necklace around my neck and wondered if to confirm that this was actually my number. Maybe if I didn’t reply, he would leave me alone. He wouldn’t try to call, would he? And I had never personalised my voicemail…
However, the truth was, Ruben was sexy. I liked him. He made me laugh. He was intelligent. He had a wonderful sense of style and he was probably hot as hell in bed.
Probably…
In fact, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since we met. He’d got me pegged so fast and he had the most delicious green eyes of any man, in the world, ever. The way they stood out against his lightly tanned skin and dark hair…
Wow.
His eyes had clearly impacted me because it was almost a week later and I still remembered exactly what colour they were.
I packed up my desk and walked outside to where Mark was waiting for me in his Vauxhall Vectra (the poor love). One of the events managers, he was a good guy and gave me a lift home whenever I was on lates.
Before he dropped me home, however… he would always pull into a secluded farm track just off the road, roll on a condom and fuck me savagely on his backseat until I came.
That night was no different, except that as he fucked me, I thought about Ruben’s eyes and came even harder. Mark tried to kiss me afterwards, as if he thought my exuberant orgasm was anything to do with him. He’d been trying to break through my ice for weeks and I thought he’d have got the message by now.
As we climbed back into the front seats, I said, “This can’t happen anymore.”
There was a horrible, frozen silence from his side of the car. Then a whimpering, “Why?”
“It just can’t.”
“Why? I thought… and I mean… I really like you.”
I’d never let this guy kiss me… and he wondered why I was severing this purely physical arrangement, because he had to face it, that was all it was.
I turned to face him, trying to look apologetic. “My boyfriend’s coming back from overseas next week. He’s in the Army and just finished a tour of Afghan. He’s a sniper. I really wouldn’t want you to get hurt if he found out… it’s best not to mention anything to anyone or he may come looking for you. I’m sorry, I know I should have told you, but he’s gone and I just get lonely and for me, this was only sex. Sorry, Mark.” I turned away, letting him know I really was done. He said nothing. I think I’d stunned him into silence, or at least I hoped I had.
He drove me home and I walked through the door, up the stairs and into my bedroom. I locked myself inside, stripped naked and climbed into the shower. While I was in there, I had a little bit of alone time with my vibrator and thought of Ruben’s eyes again, not to mention his hands… oh, and how long his tongue would hopefully be.
I sat on my bed afterwards, wrapped in a towel, opened his message again and stared at the screen. I decided to reply: I can do tomorrow evening. Name the place.
Friday night was always my night off. Always would be. It was my chance to kick back, relax, and pretend I didn’t work in a hotel and actually had a life. Yeah…
I walked from the tube towards Soho feeling nervous, trying to convince myself there was nothing in it. A guy like Ruben could have anyone, so it was better for us to remain just friends—definitely no benefits. We got on and there was no point in ruining that connection with sex, which seemed to corrupt everything (in my experience, anyway). It had already been noted at work that Mark seemed down in the dumps an
d everyone was of the belief it was a girl or something. Even though I’d always made sure sex with him was off the premises, that was a close call and I just had to hope some other pussy caught his eye before he decided to mouth off about how I’d cruelly allowed him to take pleasure from my body—then that I’d let him go gently, to enjoy other women. As soon as he realised there were other women, he’d get it into his thick head that I wasn’t anything special.
Anyway, for my first casual meeting with Ruben, I was wearing jeans, boots, a plain blouse, thick scarf and black overcoat to combat the cold weather. I hadn’t done anything special apart from let down my dirty-blonde hair. It’s always been my best feature.
Arriving a few minutes late, I figured he would already be there, or if not, then perhaps he wasn’t too bothered about seeing me. Oh, the mind games people play…
The pub was ancient, possibly an old coaching inn, with very dark wood beams and deep, squat fireplaces roaring out heat. As he’d been the one to suggest this place, I only knew where it was because it was three doors down from Ronnie’s (his text had said). I ducked my head into the nooks and crannies of the place before finding him staring out of the window in probably the most hidden nook there was.
I took a moment to stare at him before he even saw I was there. It was dark in this pub in deepest winter, but he seemed completely distracted not to have noticed my arrival yet. He wore virtually the same outfit as me, except the shirt he wore instead of a blouse was flannel and he had a t-shirt underneath that. A practical man, then. He was even sexier than I remembered. He had the best cheekbones of any man and the loveliest dimpled chin. I adored his beard and his rampantly unkempt hair. He looked like he didn’t give a fuck, and that was what I loved more than anything else. I wished with all my heart to be more like him.
I made sure my boots clacked heavily along the floorboards as I got closer and he turned and shone those eyes on me. Something bottomed out of me when he smiled… and I fell in love, right then, right there. My heart started beating in my chest and as he kissed me, once on each cheek, I flapped a hand in front of me.
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