Chapter 1

In Twilight moments of wakefulness and sleep, I took a deep breath and could smell the soft aroma of lemon blossom and neroli lingering in the suite, crisp ivory white percale weave sheets underneath my body felt like fluffy clouds, and oh the plump pillows rubbing my cheeks. Sun setting on the horizon and rays cascading through the large balcony sliding doors cast an inviting glow to the room that took away the weariness.

I glanced around the immaculate, cream-colored Sterling Suite; this is the finest, most costly accommodation on the Dorian coast. This is more than my six-month income for one night, but it's money well spent. If only I had mastered the art of saving money and adhering to a budget, both of which I have yet to master at the ripe old age of 30.

For now, I can at least waltz around the master bedroom pretending to be the sophisticated, cultured lady I can never be, or I can get my job done and not get fired on the last day of work. Twenty minutes per room to run around like a crazy woman to prepare it in mint condition for the guests. I hate my job as much as I love it.

Both bedrooms checked, living room, dining room, and bathrooms examined, sheets tucked, cushions fluffed, cashmere wool blankets placed, linen curtains straightened, mirrors cleaned. I let out a sigh of relief as my eyes swept over the beautiful planterette, which included an array of foliage and white roses placed artfully.

The last day of my four years as a housekeeper at Elite Oak Resort was today, and tomorrow I will be married to my childhood sweetheart Arlo. It's a bittersweet time in any woman's life, when she must say goodbye to the past and embrace the future with her soul mate.

The clock struck five o'clock, and I had just 30 minutes to change and race to the seamstress to pick up my bridal gown; Mother Mary, please assist me; I pray it fits. If you could just make me thinner, I promise I would never miss another Sunday service again.

Quickly, with a mixture of excitement and anxiety about the wedding, I descended the stairs in the direction of the Maid's chambers. Paradoxically, I felt both eager and anxious about what the future held.

Mrs. Cha was waiting for me, boiling some delicious Indian chai leaves, and setting me some sweets and biscuits as a parting treat. She treated me with love and care, just as a mother would do for her child. Without a doubt, she would be much missed by me.

My joking voice trailed off when I called her, "Mrs.cha-cha-cha." She whirled around and sent a bitter scowl in my direction.

I was curious and asked, "what?"

"Nothing," she said in an annoyed voice.

"There is something, and, well, are you unhappy that I'm leaving? Mrs. Cha, you're going to miss yelling at me, right?" I stated that in jest. I gave her a peck on each cheek and watched as a broad smile unfolded across her face

"I can't believe you're going to leave this job for that man who has been nothing than a source of an emotional, mental, and financial drain on you. You've taken out a loan for his startup and are paying for the entire wedding yourself. Zara, are you really this naive?" she questioned, her eyes narrowed at me.

"After mum and dad died, his parents took in granny and me. How could I be so inconsiderate to them?" I clarified trying to make her comprehend.

"Certainly, they provided for your needs as a teenager for five years, but you've worked hard and paid them back tenfold in the last thirteen. What else?" she remarked in a displeased tone"

"It's not the length of time they've been doing these things for me that matters." To help her understand, I said, "It's because they were there for me when I needed them the most; they are my family."

I encircled her in an embrace and tried to reassure her that everything would be all right.

She nudged me aside and seated me in the chair, clearly reluctant to give up on the discussion. She was prepared to use every Hard-Bargaining trick in the book to get me to cancel the wedding.

She gave me a scrutinizing glance and said to me in a low, husky voice: "This man is not worth a dollar, and You, Zara, you are worth all the world's money in the bank; he has never given you anything but has always taken from you." She made an effort to persuade me.

"Feelings are not something that can be quantified in monetary terms," As much as possible, I was trying to convince her.

"Yeah, but it's nice to be able to afford the finer things in life," she said with a snarl in her voice, as she poured spicy chai through an infuser into her prized china cups.

The peace and quiet in the room was abruptly broken by the ringing of the phone, which was quite loud. After saying "Hello, sir," "yeah, yes," and "okay," Mrs.cha laid the phone down softly and glanced at me with her lips pursed.

"Don't go anywhere till I get back, in the meantime, have some tea on me."

"But what happened?" Curious, I asked.

Mrs. Cha responded, still wearing her apron, "They want me to change the flowers in The Sterling Suite."

“Why? I have just done that; in what way is it inappropriate?" Incredulous, I asked.

"Because Mr. Sherman Colton is allergic to roses, the suite was prepared especially for him. He went so far as to dismiss an employee because of the stupid flowers," Mrs. Cha groaned and grinned as she fumbled with her apron, "He just stepped out of the boardroom and will be there in 5mins."

I'll get it done; I'm still dressed for work and have the access card on me. I sprang out of my seat and grabbed the door handle, telling Mrs. Cha, "It will just take a minute, don't worry, drink on the tea."

As I hastily made my way to the Florist's area in order to get the No Roses bouquet, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of person doesn't like roses. Even the most gruff and unromantic of people like it to some extent; nevertheless, it is not my place to comment, since they have paid for the suite and I have been hired to deliver the flowers. That has to be a dopamine-deficient elderly businessman who has lost all his warmth.

Without making any noise, I unlocked the door to the Sterling suite, swapped out the vase, and left.

My final obligation has been fulfilled. I let out a sigh of relief as I closed and shut the door. I walked down the back steps smelling the roses, holding them close to my breast as I pretended to be on my way to the altar. I know it's a problem that my hopelessly romantic nature prevents me from seeing things as they really are, yet my dumb romantic heart melts away like a snowflake in the flames.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Cha, and many thanks for everything you've done for me. I really appreciate it." I donned a jacket over my uniform, hung my bag over one shoulder, and carried my stuff in a box I grasped in both hands while saying, "I love you to the moon and back."

"So, you're not going to come back after the fitting and show me the dress?"

I beamed, “Come to the wedding to see me in the dress."

Mrs. Cha made the joke, "I'd rather scrub the filthiest toilets than watch your life burn to ashes." It gave me a good belly chuckle.

"I'll miss the final bus back home so I'll send you some pictures."

"I want to see you as the bride," Mrs.Cha begged me. "Pictures won't be the same; don't worry about the bus; I'll pay for your cab; just come back and show me."

"All well, Mrs. Cha, but a cab will be expensive. You don't have to pay for it." I murmured hesitantly.

With a grin and a wink, she said, "I got money in my pocket, sweetheart," before walking out the door. Though I was thrilled and eager, I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that nothing would turn out the way I had planned. Was I merely overreacting, or were my senses telling me to be wary of a difficult situation?