“Lawrence?” There’s no answer. “Are you there?” Still no answer.

Frowning, I wonder why he left without saying good-bye. It’s not like him at all. He always wakes me up before heading to work.

I lift a hand to touch my lips, swollen and hot, and try to figure out why I feel so disappointed and … hurt? I woke feeling happy and content for the first time in a very long time. All I wanted to do was kiss him and talk to him. Instead, there’s an empty bed and no Lawrence in sight.

I’m about to recline my back on the headboard when I think of my cell phone. Maybe he sent me a text explaining why he left without saying good-bye. As I’m reaching for it, I ignore the voice inside my head telling me that he’s paying to fuck me, that he has no obligation toward me and that whatever we shared these past few days was just Lawrence being nice. When I have my phone in my hands, I slide the screen open, ignoring the fact that there are no new notifications, and look at my messages anyway. There’s nothing from him.

My hand with the phone falls listlessly to the bed as I stare at the wall in front of me when I hear a knock at the door.

“One moment, please.” I grab the white sheet and pull it up quickly, covering the front of my body. My heart begins to beat faster, thinking that maybe it’s Lawrence who didn’t leave after all. “Come in,” I say, glancing down to make sure that nothing’s showing before focusing in the direction of the door and smile.

My smile falls.

I watch the housekeeper carrying a tray filled with food step into the room. The aroma of butter and fresh fruit make my stomach grumble with hunger.

Mrs. Woods, a woman in her early sixties who seemed to dislike me at first glance, regards me with eyes that remind me of a hawk. I see so much disapproval in them. Under her gaze, I feel as though I am a little girl about to be punished for spilling grape juice on a rug.

“Laur—Mr. Rothschild mentioned that you would need breakfast. Where would you like this to be placed, Miss White?”

I sit up straighter as I try to fight a smile. “He did?” Oh my God, Blaire. You’re acting like a child. Get your act together. I clear my throat, and nod toward the nightstand next to me. “Here’s fine, thank you.”

I’m watching her arrange the items on the tray when I notice a bouquet of white orchids lying next to the China coffee pot. I reach out to touch the petal of one.

“They’re a gift from Mr. Rothschild.”

I raise my eyes to meet hers. “How in the world did Lawrence get them so early in the morning?”

“Special delivery,” she says dryly.

“Of course.” Whatever Lawrence wants, Lawrence gets. I shake my head, grinning. “Thank you for letting me know.”

She nods, pursing her lips. “Will that be all, Miss White?”

“Please, call me Blaire. I hate formalities.” There’s something about her that makes me want her to like me. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Lawrence said that she’s been under his family’s employment since he was a baby. I grin at her but she remains aloof.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Miss White.” She lowers her head ever so slightly as if the gesture caused her bodily pain before she turns on her feet and leaves me alone in the room.

Well now, that went well, didn’t it?

I’m about to reach for the food when I hear my phone ring. Grabbing it quickly, I see that it’s Lawrence’s work number. Excited and nervous, I answer immediately. “Lawrence?” I breathe, thinking of the smiling man from last night.

“Hello, Blaire. It’s Gina, Mr. Rothschild’s personal assistant.”