AUTHOR POV

It was 12 midnight.

The knock came just as the last flicker of sleep was about to win. Tessa stirred in bed, already wrapped in a hazy cocoon of dreams, her mind drifting somewhere between a moment she was trying to forget and a man's lips she had no business remembering. The soft knock persisted, gentle but firm.

She sat up, heart thudding. “Who is it?” she called out groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Housekeeping,” came a male voice.

Tessa frowned and squinted at the clock on her nightstand—12:13 a.m.

“Housekeeping? At this time of the night?” she muttered as she rose. She had on a...