Sweet Subterfuge

During the morning meeting, the general manager announced the news of the “important guest” checking in and expected all department managers to supervise those under their command to ensure that they were as careful and meticulous as possible.

As the housekeeping manager who had frequent direct contact with the “important guest,” Larissa was held back for extra instructions and exhortations. “Mr. Rogers has extreme germaphobia, so the rooms must be kept clean at all times. Work together with the reception; the moment they see Mr. Rogers heading out, tell the cleaning staff to clean his rooms immediately. Additionally, the cleaning staff are not allowed to touch Mr. Rogers’ personal effects. Not even once!”

Larissa thought it was a little ridiculous. “But what if Mr. Rogers left his clothes or whatever on the bed or something? Do we not make the bed for him then, just to avoid touching his clothes during cleaning?”

“Firstly, with his personality, Mr. Rogers would never just toss his clothes onto the bed. Secondly, even if he did, it’s better to wait for his return before you make the bed. Touching his things is an absolute no-no. Last year, something like this occurred in the main branch of the Regal Dynasty in Bartham. A cleaning staff moved Mr. Rogers’ laptop in order to wipe the table. When he found out, the housekeeping department, from managers to cleaning staff, all resigned.”

The general manager was stern. “I’m reminding you for your own good. Don’t take it for granted.”

“I will keep it in mind, Mr. Compton!”

When Larissa left, she immediately called for a department-wide meeting and conveyed the general manager’s explicit instructions to them. To ensure no mistakes were made, she specifically arranged for the two oldest and most experienced cleaning staff in the department to be in charge of cleaning the presidential suite.

…

Kevan went out rather early and did not return even after Larissa’s shift had ended at 8 pm.

She was just feeling thankful for getting through the first day when she noticed several missed calls from the same unknown number after her shower. Larissa hurriedly called back. The call was about to be dropped automatically when someone finally answered it.

was terribly

end

changed out of her pajamas and headed upstairs with her long hair wet. 8888 was the room number of the Regal Dynasty’s presidential suite, which was also where Kevan

later, Kevan opened the

a white shirt, one side of the hem loosely tucked into his silvery gray pants. The other side of the hem was left

not completely buttoned up, as three buttons from the collar were loose. It revealed his slender neck, well-defined clavicles, and slightly defined

too, considering the fresh smell of shower gel wafting off of him. His hair

outright

slammed shut with a loud thud, and Larissa’s back collided against the solid, cold door. Her face scrunched up at the pain. “Ah…” Right as she gasped out in pain, he bit her lower

eyes widened

closed, his eyelashes quivering slightly, and his face had an unnatural flush. His

him away, but the disparity in strength had her essentially pinned to the door. She was so panicked that she

Not only did it fail to stop him, but it encouraged him further. Leaning close to her ear, Kevan murmured, “Have you forgotten

had been struck by lightning. Kevan pulled the hem of her shirt out of her short skirt. Her rationality told her, “No! You can’t!” But then the intimate scene between Travis and Amber appeared before her mind’s eye.

but dead, why

arms around Kevan’s neck. Receiving her response, Kevan’s dark eyes snapped open, revealing a strange gleam within them. It seemed to get brighter and

…

Larissa passed out.

ringing of a phone. The room was still dark due to the curtains covering the windows. She cracked open an eyelid and reached out for the phone that looked just like hers on the bedside table. Then,

“Hello?”

shocked the caller.