I woke up groaning, my head was pounding heavy and there was something wet on my forehead, a compress of some kind. It smelled like eucalyptus and as I opened my eyes I realized I was on the softest couch I had ever felt in a home office of some kind, the kind of home office that reminds you that poverty is violence. There was a large sculpture of a black greyhound laying on the coffee table beside me, a humongous piece of abstract art in black, grey and gold on the wall by a bay window, a desk curved out of some kind of dark blue gemstone near the window and a chair, a book case opposite the window parallel to the wall, as if to hide a cove there, and then there was the plush couch I was laying on.

A face flashes before me, white bloke, nice jaw line, concerned blue eyes, short dark hair and the hazy disposition of a mirage. I remove the compress from my forehead, feeling slightly better despite the pounding head. The eucalyptus of the compress gives way to another scent, a familiar one, blackcurrant, bergamot, apple and pineapple thrown over a rosy mossy ambergis and vanilla wood: Lucas.

I swing myself off the seat at this realization but there's no one in the home office, just me. Either way I'd rather lick the tarmac from here to oxford than see his face again so I pull myself up, push through the pain and head to the nearest door, unfortunately for me it's a balcony, unfortunately for the balcony I was bare desperate to get out of here.

I was about to get on the bus when I realized I didn't have my purse, my house keys, my oyster card or my wallet. This is one Friday I wasn't about to thank Ice Cube for! I didn't have my phone either and I'd have to hope mum's spare key was still where it should be if I was to get into her house. I walk all the way over to hers, which was a feet considering my sorry state. I was lucky to have found the keys at the first try, and the first thing I did was run myself a bath as I swallowed some pain killers and ordered food.

I badly needed some R&R and I had no way of contacting mum and telling her what happened, unless I slid into her insta DMs, and I wasn't up for it. I lay in the tub most of the night, trying to figure out what Marie Frances had meant, other than being upset that I'd slept with Lucas. Trying to understand why he told her. Why was she so angry when he slept with bare women! What had she meant by all that fuss? Other than the blatant racism of course! Of course I had been so stupid! She was going to tell Luna! That's why Lucas told her!

This fucking rivalry! The lengths he would go to for it! Even Biggie and Tupac took a fucking break, yeah? I consider ruining it all and just telling Luna. You were right! I slept with him! I'm a fucking slag! All it took was five glasses of scotch and him pretending to support my dreams for all of a month! Turns out I'm the white man's whore you always suspected I would turn out to be!

God! Why was everyone and everything working to sabotage this bloody project?! I was crying my shame, pain and guilt into a glass of cranberry juice when mum walked in fresh from her shift. Yes, I'm always this classy!

I spend the weekend and I take a few days off work to stay with mum, to dance and laugh with her, to grumble as she forces me to do a brain scan to see if there were any clots or anomalies, to complain as she does my hair in individual braids. I don't tell her about Lucas pretending to support my dreams so he can sleep with me so he can get back at Luna and sabotage our working relationship and the project in one foul swoop.

I do tell her that Marie Frances attacked me and banged my head against the concrete and that some handsome stranger had rescued me. I do tell her that I skipped out of Lucas posh house through the balcony across the roof and then by sliding down an exposed pipe. I leave the fucking in the office out, opting for cuddles, medicine, home cooked meals, hair care and movie nights.

On the fourth day, a Thursday which hopefully will be luckier than the Friday I had last week, I boob up and go to work. I stop by my desk, which doesn't have the word emblazoned on it in red lipstick anymore, just a trace, enough to tell that someone had cleaned it. I pull out my ciggies without a word to anyone and head to the cove only the gardener, Lucas and I knew about. I was half way through my second cig, steeling myself for a meeting with the Hardy boys and the rest of my cold uneventful life at this firm when the gardener rounds the corner to me. I smile at him, he smiles back, a look of relief on his face.

"Hi there Terry, you alright?" I wonder as brightly as I can

"Bless, I'm fine, it's you I was worried for love." Terry says back, which is downright adorable

"Me?" I prod confused

"You caused quite a stir fainting out on the street like that! We thought the duke had knocked you out over the head and kidnapped you, you know! He hasn't left his room since he's been here and then suddenly he rushes out the house and comes back with you unconscious and in his arms..." Terry reveals

"The Duke?" I pry, confused about this detail

Had I been beaten unconscious and then kidnapped? Did I have amnesia?

"Earl Whitlam's best friend, Duke Angelford. He says he saved you from a fight with that cunt Marie Frances... and then when you disappeared out the house poor Estelle thought she'd surely get fired for that. Without your phone or your purse or anything, just vapourised in thin air! The Earl's been livid with us all, proper slagging us off any time he can! He's had the Jakes looking for you!" He says

(Jakes =Police)

"The only person he should be mad at is himself, siccing his bonkers french bulldog on me like that!" I grunt back, taking in the smoke as I try and recall the man who'd saved me, dark hair, blue eyes, beautiful jawline.

So that was Lucas' best friend, that was the Duke with the amnesia. Last I heard the two had fought while they were in California...

"What's the duke doing here?" I wonder at Terry, fixing to ask him a favour

"Skulking around his room, moping in the dark for almost two weeks now. The only time he's left his floor is to have dinner with the Earl and to save you from Marie Frances." he reveals

"Then I must simply thank him for his heroic deed." I decide, taking in a smoke

I had biked here, because I didn't have my phone or my wallet or oyster card for that matter. My tab was in my purse too so effectively I'd been offline and with my mum. The time off had also given me space to decide the way forward. I had already lost my girlfriend, stabbed my boss in the back and then fucked him and let him stab me in the front.

If I allowed it, this entire commission would go to shit along with my life. There was no going back, this commission had to work out, this project had to be the best work I had ever done and I had to do it all while somehow avoiding my design partner and commandeering respect from our contractors who only listened to him.

"Terry, I'm going to need a way into the house so I can thank him. Preferably a way that doesn't involve the Earl. I'm also going to need my purse, phone and wallet back. Would you be a good bloke and see to it?" I instruct, wondering what my thank you gift to the duke would be

"The duke? Are you sure? He's like... a ghoul haunting the second floor of the house! He moves things around at night and everything, like a vampire of some kind!" Terry warns me

"Manz saved my life, innit? What kind of gal would I be if I didn't at least try and say thanks?" I challenge with a shrug

He sighs and turns off for the house, by the time I'm done with my cig he's handing me my purse and its contents

"You should report the sket to the Jakes for assault. She's about due for it, innit?" He offers

If I hadn't mentioned that Marie Frances was a stinking toe rag to anyone who wasn't Lucas, allow me to mention that now. Part of me thought it was hilarious, me going to the po-po and saying arrest this white woman, she tried to kill me.

"I'll have a think about it." I promise him as he lets me know I can attempt to see the duke tomorrow because it was too risky today.

That'd give me time to consider what my gift to him would be. What did you give a filthy rich man who had saved your life?

I didn't spend too much time at the office. I had a meeting with Tosh and Harrigan, another site visit and I was determined that this time we would all get along at the least. I wasn't too happy when I arrived and Lucas was there, looking like a Chad Micheal Murray-Justin Timberlake sad boi crossover no one had asked for.

I do my best to give him air, to assert myself whenever Tosh tries to question me, to do it all on my own. This was what having my own firm was going to be like anyway, and having my own firm was the only way I could have any peace at work. I excuse myself early from the meeting, offering to send Harrigan some notes on the materials. I had a theatre date with mum and I needed to bathe and change before it. It's on my way out of the theatre that I realize what the perfect gift for the duke would be; the simplest thing.