Meet Again After Breaking Up Novel by Arogina _ Novel




Meet Again After Breaking Up Chapter 01

The third year after our breakup.
Julian Vance and I reunited at a luxury hotel.
I was a receptionist.
He checked into the presidential suite with a female companion.
That night, I received three internal calls from him.
The first time, he said: "The sheets are dirty. Change them."
I called housekeeping to handle it.
Two hours later, he called again to have the sheets changed.
I complied once more.
At two in the morning, he made his third call.
I politely refused before he could even speak:
"I'm sorry, sir, but housekeeping has already gotten off work."
The man let out a light scoff and said casually:
"Then you come change them."
-
I ignored him and hung up the phone straight away.
I worked at the front desk; there was no reason for me to do housekeeping's job.
A colleague leaned in and asked me mysteriously:
"Was it that guest from the presidential suite again?"
Seeing me nod, she covered her mouth and snickered:
"Making housekeeping change the sheets three times in one night, his stamina is really something!"
"So when you told him housekeeping was off duty, what did he say?"
I told her the truth: "He told me to go up and change them."
My colleague froze for a moment, then let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Does staying in the presidential suite make him a big deal?
He really doesn't respect people."
"Does he think the hotel is his home?
Treating us receptionists like 24-hour maids..."
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 didn't know what was said on the other end.
My colleague suddenly widened her eyes and looked at me.
"You're saying Chloe Bennett should go up to the presidential suite to change the sheets right now?"
Fifteen minutes later, I stood at the door of the presidential suite, bracing myself as I pressed the doorbell.
The one who answered the door was Julian, dressed in a bathrobe.
Seeing it was me, he stepped aside to let me in.
The faint sound of splashing water came from the bathroom.
He led me to the bedroom.
Then he sat down on the sofa to the side, minding his own business.
With perfect composure, he placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it.
I silently pulled back the quilt.
The water stain on the bedsheet caught my eye off guard.
It felt as if I had suddenly taken a punch to the chest.
A dull ache twisted in my heart.
He blew a smoke ring, his tone carrying a trace of lazy satisfaction:
"Thanks for the trouble. My girlfriend is quite sensitive; she can't sleep unless they're changed."
"Please hurry up, she's a bit tired."
I tried hard to maintain my composure: "It will just take five minutes."
I quickly stripped the dirty linens and spread the clean ones.
Once finished, I gathered the used sheets and was about to turn and leave.
But he suddenly closed in, pressing me tightly against the edge of the bed, leaving me nowhere to run.
He leaned in further, and I stumbled backward onto the bed.
The next second, I was firmly pinned beneath him, unable to move.
The sound of water in the bathroom still hadn't stopped.
I clenched my fists, gripping the edge of the bed as I struggled to stand up.
But the disparity in our strength was too great; I couldn't budge him an inch.
I furrowed my brows and pushed against his chest, keeping my voice very low:
"Your girlfriend will misunderstand. Let me up."
The man's eyes were cold and sharp, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol brushing against my ear:
"For all these years, I couldn't figure it out."
"Why did you have to cheat on me with him back then?"

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