“Sure, no problem.”
Giulia sighed with relief. “Thank you, you’re a gem. Please apologise to him again on behalf of the hotel, and tell him that lunch at Darlington Dining is on us. I’ve reserved a table for him. He can wait there while you’re cleaning the room.”
I nodded and made my way out. I could watch the press conference later. Or, better yet, Henry could tell me about it. I took the lift up to the third floor and got a cleaning cart from the housekeeping room. When I arrived at room 316, I rang the doorbell and put on my friendliest smile.
The door was opened by an older man of around fifty with thinning black hair. He was wearing a suit, and the buttons on his jacket strained over his belly as if he’d been indulging a little too much lately. He scowled at me.
“About time,” Mr. Fleming snapped.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” I said, although I had arrived as quickly as I could. “I apologise sincerely on behalf ofThe Darlington for any inconvenience caused. I’d like to clean your room, if that’s OK. You can enjoy a complimentary lunch at Darlington Dining in the meantime.”
Mr. Fleming grunted and pushed the door open wider. He didn’t step aside, so I had to squeeze past him to get in, my arm brushing his chest as I rolled the cart into the room behind me. He sat down on the bed to put on his shoes as I started working. Instead of leaving when he had finished tying his laces, Mr. Fleming remained seated. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me through the open bathroom door. His gaze wasn’t controlling, though, but lascivious. Like he was touching my bum and breasts with his eyes. I didn’t mind at all when Henry looked at me like that, but now it made me shudder.
“Are you new at The Darlington? I’ve not seen you before,” Mr. Fleming piped up suddenly.
I had no desire to talk to him, but I put on my friendliest smile anyway. “Yes. I’ve been working for the hotel since the beginning of the month. But don’t worry, I’m aware of the high standards here, and I’ll make sure to clean the bathroom to your satisfaction.”
“I really hope so.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him stand and come towards me. His gaze seared my skin.
He stopped a few steps away and watched me spray cleaner onto the water-stained tap. “How does a pretty girl like you end up working at The Darlington?”
It was a strange question. “I needed the job,” I said, concentrating on polishing the tap until it gleamed. If I didn’t engage in the conversation, perhaps Mr. Fleming would get bored and leave.
“What’s your name?”
“My name’s Kate, sir.”
“Kate,” he repeated in a guttural tone, moving even closer. The bathrooms in The Darlington were spacious, but when Mr. Fleming stood next to me, this one suddenly felt tiny. “You’re very attractive, Kate.”
My shoulders tensed. It wasn’t an innocent compliment. There was something threatening about it that turned my stomach. I’d naively believed that I was safe at The Darlington, but I wasn’t safe from arseholes anywhere. I swallowed hard. “Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Fleming didn’t move, but remained standing very close to me. His harsh scent cut through the cleaning spray—a combination of sweat and too much cologne, which intensified the uneasy feeling in my stomach.
Mr. Fleming lowered his voice. “What do you say, Kate—I forfeit my complimentary lunch, and you give me a personal apology?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when, without warning, Mr. Fleming’s clammy fingers touched my chin. He forced my head up to meet his gaze. The pressure of his fingers was deeply unsettling.
“Let me go, please.” I barely recognised my own voice. If we’d been on the street, I’d have defended myself and kicked Mr. Fleming in the balls without hesitating. But we were in The Darlington, and he was a hotel guest. I didn’t want to cause trouble or make things difficult for Henry. He had enough going on. “I just want to do my job.”
“And I just want you to be a good girl.” Mr. Fleming ran his thumb over my lower lip. His fingers smelled just as disgusting as the rest of him. “You’ll like it. I promise. Anyway, this is how things are done here at The Darlington, isn’t it?” Mr. Fleming laughed as if he’d said something funny. Bile rose in my throat.
“There’s a table reserved in your name at the restaurant,” I said, trying to talk myself out of the situation. Perhaps Giulia would come and check on me if Mr. Fleming didn’t show up. But he didn’t move, not even to relax the grip of his fingers on my chin.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Please, just let me clean.”
“As soon as we’re done here,” Mr. Fleming said, his free hand reaching for the waistband of his trousers, which had a telltale bulge at the crotch.
“I’ll scream if you don’t let me go,” I threatened.
Mr. Fleming laughed derisively. The sound went through me. “If you scream or try anything else, I’ll file a complaint against you. I’m sure you know how important it is to The Darlington that its guests are happy. It would be a shame if you lost this new job you need so badly. So pull yourself together.”
I raised my chin. My confidence was an act, hopefully a convincing one. “No.”
“You’re pretty sassy, aren’t you?”
