By day three, Ranee had started noticing a strange pattern.
Every time Mr. Ethan Alexander walked past the front desk, something changed in the air.
The temperature didn't actually drop, but it felt like it did.
He never smiled at her. Never joked like he did to Nia or anyone else. No. For her, it was all sharp glances, one-word replies, and a tone colder than the AC blasting above the lobby.
"Raneethida," he'd say with that CEO voice. "Adjust the guest report. Double check the VIP roster. Make sure the check-in logs are updated."
And then… he'd walk off.
No eye contact. No warmth. Just professional ice.
It wouldn't have been so weird if he acted like that toward everyone but no. With Nia he was friendly. Almost... charming. But with her,
All ice.
At first, Ranee thought she was overthinking it. Maybe he was just strict. Maybe she was just new. But by day three, she knew she wasn't imagining it.
Even Nia noticed."Why does he only go full 'bosszilla' when you're around?" she whispered.
"I don't know!" Ranee hissed back. "Like, does my face annoy him or something?"
Across the lobby, Ruby watched it all with thinly veiled amusement.Her eyes followed Ethan's every move especially the ones near Ranee.And every time he delivered another unnecessarily cold instruction to the new receptionist, Ruby would smile wide behind her coffee mug.
Because to her, this wasn't a threat.This wasn't competition.This was cute.
She had been secretly adoring Ethan for years. Every stare, every command, every step he took in that linen shirt was a blessing to her bored managerial heart.
That night...
Back at their cozy house, Ranee threw her head onto the sofa dramatically while Nia stirred instant noodles in the kitchen.
"I swear, he hates me," Ranee groaned.
Nia laughed. "Girl, if that's what hate looks like, I want someone to hate me too. His eyes follow you like a soap opera villain with a crush."
Ranee grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into it.
"Seriously though," Nia continued, walking over with two bowls of hot noodles, "you're doing great. He's probably just testing you."
"Then why is he so nice to you?"
Nia shrugged. "Maybe because I don't accidentally spill guest keys across the counter when he shows up?"
"That happened once!"
They both burst into laughter.
Between slurps, they started swapping stories from Ranee's almost-one-week experience.
"Okay, but tell me Aunty Tida's forehead didn't twitch when she walked in on Joe gossiping about her eyeliner," Nia said.
"She didn't even blink. She just breathed louder," Ranee giggled. "I swear her bun tightened itself."
"And Joe!" Nia added, eyes wide. "How does he always know everything before everyone else?"
They laughed until their stomachs hurt.
Outside, the Phuket night buzzed softly with the sound of crickets and distant scooter engines. Inside, it was warm, silly, and full of the kind of friendship that made everything feel lighter.
Later that night, after all the noodles were gone and the laughter had faded into sleepy silence, Ranee stretched her arms with a soft yawn.
"I'm going to bed before I start dreaming about keycards and guest complaints," she mumbled, already half-asleep.
Thao the cat waddled in with the elegance of a furry king. He hopped up with one soft grunt and nestled himself right against Ranee's side like he owned her.
"Oh, so now you want cuddles, huh?" she murmured, scratching behind his ear.
Thao purred loudly, closing his eyes in total bliss.
"Lucky cat," Ranee whispered with a sleepy smile. "You don't have a scary CEO glaring at you all day."
Thao let out a little snort, as if to say "sounds like a you problem."
***
Ethan had a problem. A very specific, very familiar kind of restlessness the kind that struck after too many thoughts, too much denial, and far too much staring at a certain receptionist during the day.
So, he did what he always did when the urge clawed at his skin.
He hit the club.
No name needed. The kind of place where the lights were low, the music was high, and no one asked questions especially when you walked in with Ethan's face and Ethan's wallet.
Tall, handsome, and radiating CEO energy, he didn't need to do much. Just sit at the bar, one elbow resting casually, one drink in hand, the other hand pushing back his already-perfect hair.
Five minutes. That's all it took.
She arrived like she was summoned tanned legs, designer heels, lips puffed up with enough filler to float, and a neckline that declared subtlety has left the building.
"Mind if I sit?" she purred.
"I'd be offended if you didn't," Ethan smirked, already knowing how the night would end.
The conversation: Minimal.The body language: Maximal.Within twenty minutes, she was licking her lip gloss and giggling as he whispered something in her ear.
"I know a place," he said, his voice like silk dipped in whiskey.
"I bet you do," she replied, running a nail down his arm.
And just like that, she walked out of the club first heels clacking, hips swaying, dress barely hanging onto its job. She knew the deal.
Back at De Haven, the night was calm… until she strutted through the entrance like a runway model who ran out of fabric and shame.
Rambo, ever the professional, gave a polite nod though his eyes almost popped at the sight.
"Good evening, ma'am," he said, voice tight. Is that... a napkin? No... that's her dress.
The woman gave him a wink, then headed straight.
Ten minutes later, Ethan strolled in cool as ever.
Aunty Tida, sitting behind the night desk, caught it all with her signature stone-cold stare. Her red lipstick didn't even flinch, but her bun it tightened by half an inch.
Joe, who just so happened to be walking past with a pile of towels, paused mid-step.His eyebrow lifted.So high, it nearly filed for departure at Gate 7.
"Oh my God," he whispered under his breath. "That dress is a crime against thread count."
He practically floated to the back pantry, towel still in hand, already composing his next gossip headline.
"Breaking news," he whispered to no one. "Boss brings home human popsicle with a pulse and a push-up bra."
Aunty Tida didn't say a word. She simply clicked her pen once.
The click of judgment.
Rambo looked over and shrugged. "Standard Thursday."
And upstairs in the VIP suite, Ethan let the door click shut behind him.
Back to his usual distractions.Back to his usual habits.
But even as the woman pressed herself against him, even as her perfume filled the air and her fingers traced his chest.
A flash of dark eyes and a calm smile flickered in his mind.
The bourbon at the club had done its job just enough to make everything fuzzy around the edges, just enough to blur names, memories, and the line between fantasy and reality.
She was kissing him now, lips glossy, movements practiced.Her perfume was loud. Her touch was confident.But his mind… had drifted somewhere else.
Somewhere softer.
In flashes, he imagined a different smile.A different voice.A different kind of warmth.
The woman in his arms faded for a second replaced by someone else.Someone who didn't flirt like a pro.Someone who smiled shyly.Someone whose name had been echoing in his mind all day.
"Ranee…"
The word slipped from his mouth in a hushed groan, his hands gripping tighter, his breath uneven.
The woman riding him paused for half a second, brows twitching. But then she let out a throaty laugh, tossed her hair back, and leaned in harder.
"Whoever she is, lucky girl," she whispered.
And with that, she got even wilder taking control like she'd been waiting for this all night.A blur of skin.A wave of heat.A messy tangle of bodies that moved without thinking.
But for Ethan, the pleasure was layered with confusion.Because no matter how hard he tried to stay in the moment, she kept returning.
The girl from the front desk.The quiet one with the sharp eyes and soft laugh.
By the time he finally released sweaty, breathless, exhausted he wasn't even sure who he had just been with.
She rolled off him like a queen after battle, smirking to herself as she reached for the hotel robe.
Ethan didn't say a word.
He didn't have it in him.
His body gave in first. He sank into the mattress, warm, and emotionally tangled.
And before the woman could even ask for room service or a second round, Ethan was already asleep.
Deep.Still.
In a suite that wasn't home.In the arms of someone who wasn't hers.While dreaming of a girl who didn't even know she lived in his head.