Changing Sheets for My Ex and His New Girl

It was three years after our breakup when Julian Kingston and I unexpectedly crossed paths again at a luxury hotel.

I was working the front desk.

He checked into the presidential suite, accompanied by a young and sexy woman.

That night, I received three internal calls from his room.

The first time, he said, “My girlfriend got the sheets dirty. Send someone to change them.”

I called housekeeping to handle it.

Two hours later, he called again, demanding another sheet change.

I followed procedure.

At 2 AM, his third call came through.

Before he could even speak, I politely refused.

“I apologize, sir, but housekeeping has already clocked out for the night.”

The man chuckled lightly, his tone nonchalant.

“Then you come change them.”

I ignored him and hung up.

My job is front desk. It’s not my responsibility to clean rooms.

My colleague, Chloe, leaned over, asking conspiratorially.

“Was that the guest from the presidential suite again?”

When I nodded, Chloe covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.

“He must be incredible in bed, making them change sheets three times in one night!”

“So, what did he say when you told him housekeeping was off?”

I told her honestly. “He told me to go up and change them.”

Chloe froze, then scoffed, laughing derisively.

“Just because he’s in the presidential suite, he thinks he can treat people like dirt? So disrespectful.”

“He acts like the hotel is his personal home! He thinks we front desk staff are 24/7 personal servants…”

Before she could finish, the phone in front of her rang abruptly.

She cleared her throat and answered it.

The next second, she respectfully addressed the manager.

I couldn’t hear what was said on the other end.

Chloe’s eyes suddenly widened, and she looked at me.

“Did you say to send Aubrey Reid to the presidential suite to change the sheets right now?”

Fifteen minutes later, I stood outside the presidential suite, grimacing as I pressed the doorbell.

Julian, wearing nothing but a bath robe, answered the door.

He had an incredible physique, ripped abs, and water still trickled down his collarbone.

Seeing me, he stepped aside to let me in.

The hem of his robe swayed with his movement, almost revealing too much.

The faint sound of rushing water came from the bathroom.

He led me to the bedroom.

Then he casually sat down on a nearby sofa.

With an air of calm, he took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it.

I silently pulled back the duvet.

The wet stain on the sheets unexpectedly caught my eye.

It felt like I’d been punched in the chest. My heart ached dully.

He exhaled a smoke ring, his voice laced with the languid contentment of a man utterly satisfied.

“My girlfriend gets so wet every time; the sheets are completely soaked. There’s no way we can sleep on them without changing them.”

“Please hurry. She’s a bit tired.”

I tried to keep my voice steady. “Five minutes.”

I efficiently stripped the dirty sheets and quickly put on fresh ones.

Once I was done, I gathered the soiled sheets and turned to leave.

But then, he suddenly closed in, pressing me tightly against the edge of the bed, leaving me nowhere to go.

He leaned in further, and I stumbled backward, falling onto the bed.

The next second, he had me firmly pinned beneath him.

His powerful forearms braced on either side of my head, and his knee pushed my legs apart, pinning them so I couldn’t even close them.

His bath robe had completely parted, his ripped abs pressing taut against my lower stomach, the scorching heat of his skin radiating through the thin fabric.

The water in the bathroom still hadn’t stopped.

I clenched my fists, trying to push off the bed to stand up.

But the power imbalance was too great; I couldn’t move him an inch.

I frowned, pushing against his chest, my voice a low whisper.

“Your girlfriend will get the wrong idea, let me up.”

His eyes turned cold. He suddenly grabbed my resisting wrists, twisting them behind my head.

His other hand slowly slid under my top, his calloused thumb tracing a path along my waistline, sending shivers through me.

“All these years, I still don’t understand.”

“Why, of all people, did you cheat on me with him?”