I'd fucked Lucas Roland, my current boss for at least the next four months, thrice already. I was trying to come to terms with it as I realized the reason he kept taking my clothes from me was as some kind of proof of it. He was probably parading my sweater and dress and panties round the office right now to make his point. He probably had a treasure chest of the clothes of women he'd fucked and that's where two of my favorite dresses were right now. Hell, maybe there was some hidden recording device somewhere in this room and he'd sent Luna the footage of my moaning while he ate my snatch out.

Whatever his evil vile machinations were, the point was that it was no longer a secret, not that it ever had been. And now it was no longer a one-time thing. Thanks to my talk with Harrigan, I was no longer so broken over the prospect that Luna didn't want me back. There would be no reconciliation, no future with Luna and I in love and running two separate architecture firms like some kind of bizarrely gorgeous queer power couple. I had nothing to lose from sleeping with Lucas that I hadn't already had violently ripped from me. I couldn't lose the commission or my own firm or whatever was left of my reputation and so I relaxed into his bed, made myself as comfortable as I could get and then shut my eyes.

I'd had a long night last night full of drama and intrigue and whatever it was Lucas was about this morning, and the most I could do honestly was just sleep.

When I do finally wake up in a sort of inexplicable fright, I find my cheek pressed against the broad white bare chest of Lucas Roland. I don't know when he got into the bed, or when he untied me, or when he pulled me into his arms. I have to remind myself, against the backdrop of the lush scent of his naked skin and the soothing heaving of his chest that this crazy wanker had tied me to his bed! It didn't matter that he was cuddling me into him like some kind of adorable twat! He was a complete utter psychopath! So we were just taking naps together in the middle of a working day, is that it?

The cheek of him, tying me to his bed and just wandering off to parade my panties through the office! I would bite his chest if my stomach didn't just growl like Beyonce's run at the beginning of countdown. Wow! Ok, Love I hear you. We're hungry! I try and slip out of his arms but he just pulls me in tighter, chuckling softly apparently because he's a maniac of some sort. He stretches like a lazy cat and then his hand moves from my shoulder to my hair.

"You're hungry?" He softly wonders

"Did you think I somehow photosynthesized myself some food while tied to your bed like the prisoner from the man in the iron mask?" I hiss at him as he chuckles some more

There's nothing funny here mate! He mumbles something in Gaelic and I swear to god when I get home I'm going to look up how to say nigger or something worse in Gaelic and investigate if he'd said that shit to me! He presses his lips against my forehead, which is unfair because I fucking love forehead kisses, and then moves out of the bed, throwing me a silk robe as he pulls some lounge pants on. I wrap myself up as best I can even though my skin feels itchy from the idea that this was some kind of concubine uniform, that Marie Frances has been in this robe. I steel myself against feeling anything, I was cold, heartless, a beast! My priorities are dick if I can get it but most definitely my architectural firm and the commission!

"Come on then, I'll warm some lunch up for you." He chimes taking my hand into his and pulling me out of his room and down the hallway towards what turns out to be a stunning kitchenette in jade, white and copper

Wow! Who knew sex-slavery came with free lunch! I take a seat by the kitchen island as he sets what I think is my lunch into the oven and heats it, turning around to me with a boyish smile. I knew this smile, it was one of his panty twisting "forgive me for being an absolute shite because, and I cannot stress this enough, I'm really handsome".

"I am sorry you know." He starts, leaning against the oven and looking at me through his abnormally long lashes in faux humility

"You sure look it." I shrug

He looked like he'd just won Whitlam's got charm or whatever...

"Your guilty conscience is probably slagging you off right now! You look devastated! What is she saying in there mochridhe? Is she telling you you're not in MTV's making the band?" I wonder pithily at him

"I deserve that. You're angry at me, I should let you be angry at me, I started all this mess." he decides with a tired sigh

"I doubt you've spent your weekends memorizing resentment by Beyonce, the live OTR1 version and trying to fit it to the treachery of all this!" I state pouting at him

He's still looking at me in that sad boi stance but I can tell this tosser thinks it's hilarious! The fact that I trusted him with something as sacred as my love of Beyonce...

I've probably said too much, so I pout and cross my hands over my chest, activating giving Lucas air mode. Me myself and I, that's all I got in this world, and Boyd and Mom obviously, but not Aunty Simon, just me myself and I, and Boyd and Mom and maybe Hervé.

I was studying the shades of jade on the kitchen island, reminding myself that I belong to the streets now when he put a plate of steak bavette and eggs with crispy new potatoes soaked in creamy sriracha cheese sauce, sides of shredded lamb merguez and bacon mixed in. The audacity of this monster using my favourite most indulgent of meals against me like this! How did he even remember something like this? Maybe he didn't, maybe it was just a coincidence of some kind and he wasn't trying to butter me up.

"It's your favourite..." he points out, and I glare at him

I rub my wrists dramatically, getting angrier for it because the silk he used to tie me up left no marks on my wrists for me to be dramatic about! Sir! I belong to the streets! I'm going to eat, obviously, because I'm hungry and it'd be a sin to not eat this, but after I'm done I will be right back to the streets where I belong!

"I don't know if you can tell Funke but I'm not the biggest fan of your silent treatment and acting like I don't exist." He sighs in frustration as my tummy and tongue explode in food orgasms

You could've given me a Masserati but you decided to tie me to your bed instead so...

"I've taken it as nobly as I can considering this is all my fault, and I have no idea how to apologize obviously because you won't take my gifts, my apology, my remorse..."

At this point I tune him out, because I can't enjoy my food properly when he's trying to guilt me into forgiving him because he's such a cool bloke and he makes mistakes and he's human. I'd worked for Lucas Roland for almost three years, I knew this man slightly better than he gave me credit for! I wouldn't have been able to teeth clients off of him if I didn't know him and his intentions and his tells.

I was humming me myself and I to myself, I even spotted a fridge, went over and got myself some juice to wash lunch over with, managed to find a glass for it and everything. You would've thought I lived here how comfortable I was minding my own business, having my favourite brunch meal in the earl's silk robe for his sextuplets.

I was just clearing up the dishes and having a glass of water when Lucas grabbed me by the elbow and spun me to face him.

"What do you want me to say Funke? I'll say it." He vows, frustration thick in his voice

"Can I have my clothes back?" I request in the most polite prim and proper way

I didn't sign up for the Titanic school of drama yeah? He wasn't sorry and I wasn't naive and I would never trust him again in my life.

"You don't want to spend the weekend over? We can watch Lemonade as many times as you want." He offers

Lemonade?!!!!

The devil works hard but Lucas Roland works even harder!