Unexpected

Two

     The day didn't end like that. More and more requests came. I swear, I'd die if I kept this up. Sadly, it was still the first day and the same thing may happen tomorrow. It's like my life just went downhill all in one day. From freedom to torture.

    "I need you to send up some new towels, ASAP," the same voice that I heard for the fifth time requested. Yes, it's the same man who said the words, "I need a room, ASAP," His name? Mike Cordon. He didn't look anywhere older than me. So, he must be the son of someone rich.

     I forced out a smile while I held up the phone near my ear. I have been sending up the bell hoppers and house-keeping up, repeatedly, because of him. He acts like a spoiled brat. I mean, most rich families are like that, right? "Yes, yes. I'll send house-keeping to bring it up and soon as–"

     "No," His denial made me almost flip up the desk. What was his problem with sending house-keeping up? He should be used to it, seeing that he repeatedly call them up for almost the last twenty minutes. "I need you to personally send it up to me."

     I was quite shocked at his request. Me? Personally send it up to him? Who does he think he is? A prince in disguised? Wait, that can be possible, can it? I shook my head and replied, "But, sir, I'm very busy and can't personally send it up to you."

     There was a chuckle on the other line of the phone. "You can do it. Ask someone to fill you in for a moment. Just, hurry up. I'll need those towels real soon." And after that, he hung up. 

     I was left hanging and was definitely pissed off. I turned to Mimi and gave her my forcable smile that I forced out. I needed to look kind so she would help me with this, again. "Mimi,"

     "Go. I'll fill you in until you return. You can take your time, since you filled in for all of us while we went to that special meeting. You're lucky you don't have to work on that day," she huffed, blowing away a strand of hair with her own blow. Can she read my mind, by any chance? I was definitely shocked that she knew what I was going to ask her.

      I gave her a quick hug and quickly crouched down to grab some new towels that were in the cabinet just down below. Balancing it all on one arm, I began to rush out from behind the counter and ran to the elevator, as if my life depended on these towels that needed to be sent up. 

     Crazy, I know.

     I was sort of rushing. Like I said, it's as if my life depended on these towels that needed to be sent up to Mike Cordon, the man who's making my life a whole lot tougher. It's like he's a bad luck charm that walked into my life. Actually, that's actually quite true. Ever since Mike Cordon checked-in this hotel, my life's gotten a little more stressful than it was before he came into Lipton Hotel.

     "What has Mike Cordon got me into?" I whispered to myself, as the elevator slowly reached the tenth floor, the penthouse sweet, the place Mike Cordon–someone who ruined my life within a few hours, all in one day–stays in. 

     I took in a deep breathe before knocking, and seeing his face. Secretly, I think, I hate a guest that's staying here. Is that against the sake of the hotel? Am I not allowed to hate a guest?

     Actually, I think I can, as long as I keep it to myself and I tell no one. That's the only way. Though, if I act cold, Mike might report to the hotel and message will flow all the way to my dad, who will probably cut off my allowance and make me work in this horrid job for, like, the rest of my young days, I guess. 

     "What? Is he not here?" I asked myself. I took a step forward and began banging on the door of his. "Hello!? Do you not want your towel, then?"

     The door was answered by Mike Cordon. Who else could've answered it then? Of course, it had to be annoying Mike Corodon. "So, the towels are here already? Come inside while you're here, then. It's my treat for you to see the luxurious life."

     I scoffed and placed my hand onto my hip. I threw him a skeptical look before saying, "Sorry but I already know the life of luxury. Do I look like a girl who works only? If you think so, then, pfft! I'm way better than you think, Mike Cordon."

     "Someone's got sass," he commented with a grin. "Even if you know the life of  luxury, don't you still want to come in?"

     I crossed my hands, and raised an eyebrow. "You sound like a pervert right now, Mike. So, why do you even need me to go inside? Sounds... pervert-ish."

     "Is everything you think of relates to of being a pervert?" he asked, sounding sarcastic. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at me with his green, shining eyes. I'd say, he has a weird choice of hair colour: striking red. 

     I was getting impatient of him holding me down like this. Does he not know how stressful it is to work like that?! No, probably not. "Look, Mike, I have to go now. Work's getting a little heavy and stressful so I have to–"

     Before I could leave or run to the elevator, Mike grasped my wrist and pulled me into his room. I was locked in his tight grip. I could feel his breathe. He was breathing on my neck. Mike closed the door and locked it shut. Could my theories of him being a pervert be right, then?

     "What are you... Let me go!" I struggled to break free from his strong grip but eventually I managed to break free. Though, it wasn't as gentle as I planned it would be 'cuz the next minute, I was lying on the floor. "What were you thinking!?"

    "That's the thing," he smiled. I can't believe after what  he just did, he still managed to smile as if nothing happened. "I don't think so much. If I did, I think I would find it rather... annoying. Don't you just agree?"

     I helped myself up by pushing both palms against the floor, slowly rising up and facing the man who just offended me, knocked me down and locked me in his hotel room! "Do you want to get kicked out of this hotel!?"

     "I'd like to see you try," he challenged, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning a little forward. "Would you really kick out a celebrity?"

     I took a step back, hoping he didn't get any funny ideas. Whatever perverts think of, it's always best to take a step back first. "What are you talking about? Wait, don't tell me... Are you actually a famous pervert?" I asked, sarcastically. 

     "When will you think I'm not a pervert?" he asked, rolling his eyes. Then he continued, "Will you really kick out a celebrity?"

     "Who are you to call yourself a celebrity?" I asked. I ran out of steps to step back so now, there was a pervert man in front of me while I was pinned to the wall of his room. 

     "You don't know me?" he asked. 

     "No," I answered. Was I suppose to know him then? "Who are you? Your name doesn't ring a bell in any celebrities I would know." 

     Yes, I may not be a fangirl  but still, I knew most of the celebrities. You don't have to like them to know them. At least remember their faces and names then you're on the right track. That's what I usually do when someone talks about the latest trend song or something.

     "My name isn't really Mike Cordon," he confessed. 

     I raised an eyebrow and slowly pushed him back, because I wasn't getting enough air. "Really now? Why would you lie about your own name? So, what's your real name then?"

     "If I told you, would you still know me?"

     "Only one way to find out,"

    So-called Mike took in a deep breathe and was preparing to confess his real name. Funny, I always thought his name would be Mike–even when I knew he didn't look like one. "My name is," he began, "Michael Clifford from a famous band called 5 Seconds Of Summer."

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Didn't update yesterday but I updated today :)) 

More to come :))