Author's note: I'm gonna publish a few chapters to try to get some feedback. Byeyas

I walk towards the washrooms, fiddling with my apron strings. My uniform is incredibly uncomfortable: a starchy white blouse, a tight knee length skirt with an apron on top along with an itchy pair of tights and some boring black pumps. To add to this, I have a scratchy bonnet to keep my wavy mop from falling in my eyes. It's compulsory, but I swear that I haven't seen anything like this apart from in a history book. It's very... Florence Nightingale but vomit green.

As I half heartedly traipse across the floor, I heard snickering from behind me. I turn to see no other than Charlotte Bellandini. Daughter of Mr Bellandini AKA Mr Bossman, owner of 'Bellandini Hotel'. Yeah. She doesn't like me much. As an only child -a spoilt one at that- she is to inherit the hotel when her father retires or passes away. She's only a few months younger than me, but still treats me like the dirt under her designer heel. It's strange because I don't remember doing anything wrong to make her hate me so. At least I think I haven't. Whatever it is, I still try to speak to her politely, even if she doesn't necessarily deserve it.

Charlotte struts over to me; she's always been a bit of a diva. She looks at me straight in the eye and I stumble backwards.

"Why are you late?" she hisses at me

"But Ms Bellandini, I, I, I... wasn't. I got he-"

"You arrived late and don't you dare answer me back. As soon as my daddy gives me the hotel, I'll personally make sure you are the first to be kicked out onto the streets." She spits, her pink lips puckering sourly. Before I know it, she's turned on her heel and flounced towards the stairs up to the kitchens, signifying her exit with her classic hair flick of her barbie blonde hair. I hate her so, so much. What ever did I do to make her pick on me! Confused, I push away my thoughts and head towards the ironing board to press another day of sheets. How enthralling.