As I entered the large gates of the Thorne Hotels and Suites, I immediately noticed the ruckus, which contrasted with the calm and elegance that is Thorne Hotels and Suites, one of the largest, top five-star hotels in Aberdeen, where I worked as a concierge.

"What's happening, Rufus?" I asked one of the gardeners who was trimming the lawn profusely.

"Oh, hey Leah. Well, It came all too sudden. We all got a call this morning that the Thorne annual fundraiser had been moved to this place last minute. So, everyone's in a frenzy to get the place in shape within a week."

I scoffed.

"But the whole place is sparkling. Why the pressure? It's not like we've been idle the whole time. We've actually been working."

"Tell that to the organizers. They've become devils at this point. Going at everyone with pitchforks."

I sighed tiredly. The pressure was massive as it was; now there would be even more.

I facepalmed myself and began walking in.

"Thanks, Rufus," I said with a wave, getting a nod in response.

From then, the day spiraled out of control. We were made to check the rooms several times, making sure no duvet was mismatched nor a toiletry missing. We were re-drilled on how to act and behave professionally with the dignitaries who would arrive early.

We had to help out with setting up the large hall for the event and do loads more. Oh! It was so exhausting.

This went on for days. I almost died!

I came home at midnight exhausted, then had to wake up early to go for my classes in the morning, then spend a few hours at the library to study for my exams, after which I'd go to the hotel.

"Leah!"

"Yes, Mr. Scott?!" I squeaked, freezing on the spot.

"Why hasn't the executive suites been checked today? The guests will be arriving by next week!" Mr. Scott, our prim and proper manager, dressed in his tailored, crease-free suit, yelled in his British accent.

I had just finished going through thirty rooms! Checking, rechecking, dusting, rearranging. Give me a break, man! It's quite difficult working in heels.

"Sir, I just used the restroom."

"Don't care. Go get those rooms fixed!"

I sighed, grumbling profanities under my breath.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing, sir."

"That's right," he said sarcastically.

I entered the elevator to the 30th floor and made my way to the executive suites. That should be the last set of rooms for the day before I could do other things and call it a night.

"Just one more room, one more room," I sang tiredly as I made my way to the last room.

I opened the door and walked into the already sparkling room, moving sluggishly from one place to the other. I was ready to pass out at this point.

Once I was done, I came into the bedroom for a final check.

There, on the king-sized bed, lay the fluffiest, coziest-looking duvet I'd ever seen.

I widened my eyes as the bed called out to me.

My colleague June was in charge of all executive suites, but she'd been assigned to the presidential suite earlier today because certain guests preferred bustier and curvier concierges. Bleh!

Well, she should have known that this room was for a man who had no such preferences. I scrolled through the tab and saw that I was right. The guest had requested plain, dark-colored sheets and duvet. This was why Mr. Scott yelled at us! What gets to me the most is that people like her aren't blamed for their mistakes because they have pretty privileges. We end up taking the brunt of their mishaps.

I sighed for the hundredth time that day. Thank God I had some sheets and a duvet that matched the aesthetics. I quickly got to work, replacing everything and fixing it just like we'd been drilled.

By the time I fixed the last crease, my legs gave up, sending me right onto the bed.

I wanted to scream but was too exhausted to get anything out. I simply gave in and lay there.

In my subconscious, I could make out sounds at the entrance of the door. I tried to get up, but sleep paralysis wouldn't let me. I'd exerted myself for too long.

If it were Mr. Scott walking through that door, then I was completely done for.

After several tries, I gave up, allowing my tired body the repose it greatly needed. As if in agreement, I felt warmth all around me. I sighed contentedly, succumbing to the calls of overdue sleep, and maybe a possible termination.

"Leah! Wake up!"

"Yeah, I'm awake!" I yelled, widening my eyes and springing up. I darted my eyes around but saw no one.

Was I hallucinating?

I looked around again. Everything looked normal to me...except for the duvet covering the other half of my body.

Someone was in here!

No! Someone is still in here! I gasped in realization as I heard water running in the bathroom.

"We caught the intruder in the executive room. We don't know how he got in, but he's been arrested. The police said he usually goes around huge hotels and resorts pretending to be part of the elite, then ends up seducing women and scamming people out of their money."

That was said by a male colleague of mine sometime last month when we'd had an intruder in the executive suite.

I gasped, covering my mouth. Was that what this was? Was the intruder here?!

I shuffled around, looking for anything to defend myself. I should call security! I quickly reached for the bedside phone and, with shaky hands, dialed the security line.

"Hello, Thorne Security Services..."

"Matthew! There's an intruder!" I whispered loudly.

"Leah?" came the confused voice of Matthew, one of the security men on duty.

"Yes, it's me! There's an intruder in ES 30. Come quick!"

"Leah! Get out of there! We're on our way!"

"He's in the shower. Oh! He's turned off the shower."

"Leah! Listen to me. Do not do anything. Just get out of there!"

Well, if I'm to let you in on a not-so-secret thing about me, it's that I don't listen. It's been the bane of my existence. I do not listen.

In my defense, though, I felt I needed to keep an eye out to make sure he didn't escape. It was a long way from the security post. Deep down, I also wanted to play hero.

I slowly picked up a heavy bronze figurine on the table and moved toward the bedroom entrance, then hid behind the wall leading to the passageway.

I could hear him open the glass door and walk out. I gripped the figurine tightly, ready to bash the intruder into unconsciousness. My heart thumped dangerously against my ribcage, on the verge of exploding. My breath

hitched as I heard him come closer and closer.

Then, with one swift move and a battle cry, I lunged for victory!

I was sure I would nab him. I was certain I would make my mark and become the hero of the hour, the one who caught the intruder red-handed while everyone else was scrambling around preparing for the fundraiser.

But for the life of me, I don't know how it happened.

I lunged forward with the figurine raised high, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I could only catch a glimpse of his eyes widening in shock, before everything went by in a blur.

The figurine was inches away from his head when he somehow managed to dodge it in one fluid motion. Before I could even process what happened, he reached out and grabbed my wrist mid-swing, then swerved to the side and pinned me against the wall with my hand above my head.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

I quickly reached out with my other hand to push him off, but just as quickly, he grabbed that wrist too and pinned it above my head alongside the first. 

I shook my head from side to side, wriggling and squirming to free myself, but he had a dead grip on me. My heart hammered against my ribcage so hard I thought it might break through.

The only free thing I had now were my legs. I drew my knee up, ready to strike, but he must have read my mind, because he looked down, then suddenly pushed my legs apart with one knee and moved to stand between them, pressing against my body, making me totally immobilized.

Heat flooded my face. This was not how this was supposed to go.

In all my struggles, it never occurred to me to actually look at my assailant. For someone playing hero, you would have thought that should be the first thing I would have done, right?

"One more move from you," he threatened in a low, menacing voice that sent a shiver down my spine, "and I'll drop this on your head."

I looked up and saw the figurine in his hand, held high and ready. My own weapon, turned against me.

My breath hitched as the gravity of the situation dawned on me like ice water.

Just moments ago, I was going to retire home and have a long, uninterrupted sleep. But here I was, in a life-threatening situation, pinned to a wall by a man who could very well be dangerous.

Matthew, where are you?

I slowly looked from the figurine to his face, and my breath hitched a second time. No, it was like the air was sucked right out of my lungs, like I'd been punched in the chest.

He was half-naked, with a towel loosely hanging around the waist that was pressed firmly against mine. Little beads of water were still running down his... chest. His sculpted, ridiculous chest that looked like it had been carved from marble.

Gulp.

His fierce hazel eyes stared down at me, nostrils flared like he was about to devour me whole. His wet hair dripped water right onto my face, and I blinked it away.

He was mad. Really mad.

It dawned on me that I should have handled this better. Way better. I should have waited for Matthew to arrive with security instead of charging in like some knock-off action hero with a bronze figurine.

What was I thinking?!

"Let me go!" I groaned, twisting my hands, but that action only earned me rippling pain as his hold tightened in response.

"Security will be here soon," I added, trying to sound threatening despite the tremor in my voice. "So unless you want to get hurt, I suggest you let go of me."

He creased his brows, staring at me like I'd sprouted a second head.

"Let. Me. Go." I squirmed again, and he reinforced himself by pressing harder against me, eliminating even the smallest gap between our bodies.

The heat of him seeped through my uniform. I could feel the dampness of his skin through the thin fabric. My face burned.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked, genuinely perplexed, his brows still creased in confusion. "Or do they now employ crazy people here?"

I looked straight into his eyes, heaving from all the exertion, my chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked genuinely curious.

The audacity.

"You think I don't know your kind?" I spat.

"My kind?" he said with raised brows and a flicker of amusement dancing in those hazel eyes. "Pray, do tell."

"You're a literal thief! Scamming people out of their hard-earned money! Pretending to be someone you're not!"

Just as those words left my lips, my brain yelled back at me: Hypocrite! You're no better! You stole from someone too!

The memory of that golden crest flashed through my mind, the one I'd pawned to save Grandma. The one I still hadn't managed to recover after all these years.

I swallowed hard and went mute, shame creeping up my neck.

I saw his face contort into a frown as he stared down at me with renewed disdain, his jaw tightening. Whatever amusement had been there vanished, replaced by something colder.

Just then, the door flew open with a loud bang that made us both flinch. Matthew barged in, and behind him followed three of his men, all armed with batons.

The stranger and I turned at the same time, our heads snapping toward the door in unison.

Matthew darted his eyes around murderously, scanning the room in search of me. When his gaze finally landed on us, on our compromising position with the stranger's half-naked body pressed against mine, I saw his face

darken with pure fury.

He stomped toward us, ready to annihilate this... thief?