Only Yours

32. Housekeeping

Tamina

My body feels heavily, like there's an invisible mass holding me down, only most of it rests over my lower region and down my legs. I'm eager to open my eyes, but there are two reasons why they don't budge: I don't want to start a new day, and I'm afraid he's not here. Biting my lower lip, they swing open only to slam shut when the blinding streaks of sunlight catch me. Rubbing them slowly, they finally peek open and everything feels eerily quiet.

The sheets feel silky underneath my fingers, and that's the only thing I can feel. No warm muscle or glimpses of rustled fabric covering another, and there's no heat. Craning my head over the covers, there's no sign of a handsomely naked form approaching from the joint bathroom or stretching from just rising from bed. Instead, there's a parchment of paper lying on the side I'd left him last night, where it's neat and tidy.

Confusion clouds my mind, even though I'd be happy just to wake up to him sound asleep, a note saying he's shopping for breakfast is the next best thing.

Good morning, Tamina, I hope you slept well. Last night was perfect, and I can't thank you enough, nor can I wait for us to share that moment again. I'm sorry I'm not there with you right now, work needs seeing to, but I'll have a driver sent to you just after lunch to allow you time to freshen up. Don't forget to eat, you need to remain healthy; room service is free at your disposal. I love you, and I'll message you when I'm free, have a good day xx

To say I'm filled with a discomforting amount of disappointment is an understatement, but I should've expected this beforehand. After all, Brandon did warn me of this when we decided to get together.

But why does it feel as if I've been used?

Sighing, I throw my head back, only to hear a quick wrap against the door. Groaning, the thought of facing someone feels unbelievably nauseating. It would be wishful thinking of it being Brandon, so that notion instantly flies to the back of my mind.

"Housekeeping!" a cheery voice calls, and it's a man at that.

Clearing the hoarseness from my throat, I holler, "Would it be OK if you come back in a moment?"

"I'll be quick, routine check!" they retort, and my heart sinks at the notion I'm not going to have some alone time to wallow in my own pity, that, and the morning he promised is out of the window.

After a few minutes, there's no sign of them leaving, and a heavy sigh comes from me as my head ducks under the covers when I call them in. The sound of the door opening and closing catches my attention, and all I can taste is strangely nothing, and the smell of sex on the fabric stirs my stomach. The longer I'm under here, the more unnerving it becomes, and it doesn't help now that the footsteps sound as if they've stopped beside the bed.

Taking a deep breath, my fingers work their way up to grip the pillow tightly, and when the mattress dips beside me, I lurch up with a cry and swing with all my might, only for a hand to catch the stuffed object inches from their face. When they peek around it, a squeak comes from me when their identity sinks in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I squeal.

"What? Not happy I didn't steal a maid's uniform?" Lucius muses, waggling his eyebrows before setting the pillow down beside him, and then his eyes slightly widen before diverting away from me.

Confused, I'm about to voice it when the covers brush down my shoulders, leaving me to hastily pin them against my body before he gets an eyeful.

"Can you leave for me to get dressed?" I ask, my gaze glueing itself to my covered legs.