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She watches me through half-lidded eyes, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on her lips. Her blonde hair is splayed across the pillow, and the sheet is draped artfully across her naked body.

“Leaving already?” she purrs, stretching like a contented cat.

“Aye, time for me to head home.” I buckle my belt. “That was my reward for surviving today’s to-do list.”

The suite around us is all tasteful opulence—crystal glasses on the minibar, plush carpet underfoot, and a bathroom gleaming with marble surfaces.

She props herself up on one elbow. “Will I see you again before I leave?”

“Depends on how many more benches need fixed near your parents’ walking route.”

This makes her laugh, a sound that’s genuinely warm despite the silver spoon she was clearly born with. “God, they were awful to you. I’m sorry about that.”

I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”

Besides, I think to myself, there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that while her parents were looking down their noses at the tattooed maintenance man, their precious daughter was mentally undressing him. And then actually undressing him a few hours later.

“Well, thanks for . . .” She gestures at the rumpled bed. “. . . everything.”

“My pleasure.” I give her a sly wink. “Literally.”

I smooth down my messed-up hair then glance into the corridor to make sure it’s clear. There’s no sign of her parents, so I slip out then head downstairs. With a swipe of my keycard, I access the staff-only area, with its no-frills decor. The transition is always jarring—from soft lighting and artwork to fluorescent bulbs and noticeboards plastered with health and safety reminders.

I’m heading for the guys’ locker room when Drew, another member of the maintenance team, emerges from it. He stops short when he sees me. “Robbie! Thought your shift ended an hour ago.” His nose twitches. “Christ, mate, you reek of perfume. Wait, don’t tell me you’ve been⁠—”

“Just pleasing a guest,” I cut in with a shrug. “Hospitality is all about going above and beyond, after all.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You sneaky bugger. Was it that blonde in the sundress? The one you said was eye-fucking you earlier?”

I don’t confirm or deny this, but my smirk is all the answer he needs.

“Unbelievable.” Drew claps my shoulder. “How do you do it? Seriously, mate. Is it some secret module in manager training? Or just the appeal of the bad boy?”

I shoot him a grin. I’m not big on corporate hierarchy, but technically Drew reports to me. Not that it matters. We work well together because we don’t take any of that superior–subordinate bollocks seriously. Truth is, he’s one of the few blokes here I like. Most of the time, I keep to myself—I’ve always preferred doing my own thing—but Drew’s all right. Easy-going, sharp enough to have some decent banter, and he doesn’t act like a knob.

“Well, are you going to give me some tips on pulling or not?” Drew presses.

“Step one: look like this.” I gesture to myself with mock seriousness. “Step two . . . there is no step two.”

Drew snorts, loudly enough to make us both laugh, which is why we miss the approaching click of sensible heels. Samantha, the head of housekeeping, rounds the corner. As always, she’s immaculately put together, not a hair out of place in her tight bun, uniform pressed to military precision, and make-up that could withstand a Highland storm. She fixes me with her signature glare.

Unfortunately, Drew—who has his back to her and hasn’t yet noticed her—picks this moment to say, “Honestly, mate, only you would have the balls to hook up with a guest.”

It’s only when my expression shifts—probably into something resembling oh shite—that Drew clocks Samantha. His grin falters.

Samantha’s eyes narrow like she’s about to deduct points from Gryffindor. “Well, well, Robbie. I’m sure your father would be very interested to hear about your unique . . . customer service approach.”

I plaster on my best “innocent until proven guilty” smile. “Now, Samantha, you know me. I’m just here to keep the benches sturdy and the lightbulbs glowing. Anything else is pure speculation.”

She holds my gaze, trying to rattle me, but it won’t work. I’ve been standing my ground against authority figures since my teens. It’s second nature to me.

She must realise she’s not going to win our wee staring contest because she huffs under her breath then marches off down the hallway without another word. Only once she’s out of sight do I let out a slow exhale.

“That woman’s always had it in for me.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Drew says deadpan. “You’re such a delight to work with.”

“Piss off,” I fire back good-naturedly. Although I don’t say it, I happen to know Samantha isn’t quite as squeaky clean as her pressed uniform might suggest. “Anyway, I’m out of here. Try not to break anything before tomorrow.”