Don Ressler was sitting behind the reception desk when I arrived ten minutes before eight. He peered at me over his glasses.

"Good morning Lily," he said without smiling, "how are you feeling today?"

I set down a box of Krispy Kremes and unbuttoned my coat. "I'm good thank you Don, what about you? Did you go home at all last night?"

"Lily we need to talk."

Crap on a cracker. What had I done now? "Okay."

He picked up a bunch of folders and came out from behind the reception desk. "First of all," he said, "Aram has some calls you need to make on behalf of the company. Aram will tell you all about it when he comes in. Secondly, Liz wants to meet you for lunch after her meeting with Reddington. And thirdly..." he handed me the folders in his hand. I almost collapsed under the weight of them. He walked off towards his office, then turned and said, "thirdly, be careful with Tom Keen."

Half way down the corridor, he stopped and came back. "This is my cell number," he handed me a card, "put it in your phone and call me whenever you need me. Okay?"

I would have answered him but I had just taken a giant greedy bite of a chocolate iced custard. My cheeks worked like a hamster storing nuts for hibernation. I nodded and pointed at the box of doughnuts. I made a sound like "Mmmm hummmm hrrrr" and he almost smiled. Almost. He did however take a powdered strawberry filled. "Thanks," he said, pointing at his card, "don't lose that."

The morning went by in a blur. I had so many people to call, people who had requested RedKeen's services. Before I knew it, it was one o'clock and Liz was standing beside me. "How are you? Did you sleep okay?" she said. She looked radiant.

"I slept like a baby thank you."

Liz leaned over the desk. "I wonder what happened to the guy?"

I smirked. "If my mother got to him he's probably missing something that's directly linked to him being a man."

She giggled. "No judge in the land would convict her."

As the door of the elevator opened, Liz noticed my fake Chanel. "Don't tell me this is from Hong Kong too?"

I nodded.

"Damn," she said, "I gotta take a trip there."

"I probably shouldn't be saying this," I replied "but my mom knows a man who knows a man."

Just as I spoke the words, Don Ressler got into the elevator with us. Liz pulled a face. "Shh. The police is here."

He looked at her quizzically. "What did I miss?"

"Oh nothing," she waved her hand, "girl stuff. Chanel purses. You know."

"Expensive stuff," he said.

"What would you know Donnie?" Liz teased, "what do you call expensive? You know, for a purse?"

He stared at us. "Fifty bucks? Sixty max."

Liz and I eyeballed one another.

"Cheapskate," Liz said. Then to me she said, "Don't go on a date with this one, Lily, he'll make you pay for your own Happy Meal."

The elevator stopped and the door opened. Raymond Reddington stood there in a very expensive hand tailored suit.

"Now this man," said Liz, "knows how to treat a lady."

As we left the elevator I looked at Ressler. "I like Happy Meals," I said.

He finally cracked a smile.

Mr Reddington was real smooth operator. He put me at ease so fast I felt like I'd known him all my life. He laughed at all my jokes. He praised my ambitions. He treated Liz like a queen. After we ate, though, he left and Liz and I sat and finished dessert and coffee.

"Lily," she said, "how are you getting on so far? How's Aram and Donnie?"

"Aram is a lamb," I said, "he is so so patient. I'm not sure about Don though, I think he thinks I am a bit of an idiot."

"No he doesn't," she said, "he just likes to pretend he's this incredibly tough resilient MAN but in reality he's just a fluffy kitten with a soft center."

I stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"

She winked. "Almost."

I took a deep breath. "He said a weird thing to me today."

"What was that?"

"To be careful of Tom Keen."

Liz stopped smiling. "You see, " she said waving at the waiter for the check, "He does like you."

The waiter appeared. "Mr Reddington has paid the check already."

In the taxi on the way back to the offices, my cheeks burned. Don Ressler likes me. He likes me. We passed a bridal shop. I had several crazy stupid love thoughts.

I spent the afternoon trying not sleep after my fancy French lunch. Aram had disappeared; I had no idea where Donnie was. Liz was locked in her office on the phone. I was scrolling through my cell phone and looking at Donnie's number when the elevator opened and Tom Keen appeared on my horizon. Damn that man looked fine. I hit call on Ressler's number and set the phone down.

"Hi Lily," he purred, "you look sensational today. Are you wearing a short skirt today? Can I see?" He tried to peer over the top of the reception desk. I could hear Donnie saying "Lily?" so I said as loud as I could, "Mr Keen, what are you doing here? No, I am not wearing a short skirt!"

What was it with men these days?

Tom regained his composure. "So, is Liz in?"

"No," I lied. I prayed internally, please don't come out of your office Lizzie. Please.

"Are you sure?" he grinned.

"She's not in."

"That's weird because I saw you two come into the building together and she didn't come out again. You know? I waited."

"She just left, you just missed her. She was in the other elevator."

He turned and looked at the single elevator.

"I see." He looked back at me. "You wouldn't be lying to me, Lily, would you?"

I tried not to blush. "No."

"Because you know what I do to naughty girls who tell lies?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Where the everloving fuck was everyone? Why was there no panic button? An anti-creep device that sounded like a police siren?

"Well," said Tom wandering back towards the elevator, "keep this up and you'll soon find out. By the way, tell Lizzie I was here. I want to know what she thinks about the content of that envelope."

The envelope! I'd forgotten all about it. It was lying on my bed in a pile of junk from the fake Marc Jabobs and a ton of dirty laundry. Tom Keen seemed to read my mind because he squinted at me.

"You did give it to her, didn't you?"

I said nothing.

"Naughty naughty girl," he said, "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

The elevator door opened and Donnie got out.

"Teaching lessons again? And where did you get these set of fake qualifications from this time Tom?" he asked "The University of Photoshop?"

Tom looked royally pissed but said nothing. I felt like sliding into the ground.

The first thing Donnie said to me was, "Are you okay?" Quickly followed by "What envelope did he give you?"

"He gave it me last night, while Liz was on the set. I forgot. It's in my apartment."

"You know what's in it?"

I shook my head. "I forgot all about it."

"If you don't mind, after work, we'll go to your place and I'll take care of it."

My place. My place. Donnie Ressler was coming to my place. My place with its really bad decor and unwashed windows. Where I lived with my gay bff Alex and a really bad tempered cat, Mr Mao, who hated anyone that wasn't me or my mother. Actually, the cat used to belong to my mother, which is probably where it picked up its habit of bitch slapping anyone who sat near it. I was crying inside already.

My place did not let me down. As we walked up the three flights of stairs, old Mrs Liu came out to harangue me in Chinese about the cat, about that boy who has really bad taste in music (she meant Alex and he does) and that I was bringing too many strange men into the apartment. Too many? This was the first one. Ever. Any man who made it into my apartment without being scared off by Mrs Liu would soon find himself under the radar of my mother who would run over from the restaurant and threaten to roast him like crispy duck. Not many guys could withstand this kind of stuff. I hoped Donnie was made of sterner stuff.

The apartment looked like a bomb had gone off in the middle of it and Alex had been smoking something illegal. Donnie gave me a look that could have curdled the cat's milk. "What's that smell?" he asked, his nose wrinkling.

"Chinese cabbage," I lied, "smells like you know what. Doesn't it?"

I pulled a handful of clothes off the sofa. "Please, have a seat. Tea?"

"No thanks, just the envelope. I don't want to take up your free time."

No, I wanted to say, it's cool. You are my free time. Take all the time you want. All night. All year. The rest of my life. So I said, "Okay, I'll go get the envelope."

Just as I went into my room, I heard Donnie say, "What a pretty cat."

Before I had time to say "Don't touch the cat," all hell broke loose. Mr Mao responded to Donnie's hand with ferocity. I ran into the living area to see Mr Mao, three paws and sets of claws digging into Donnie's arm, the fourth swinging wildly at his face like a feline Mike Tyson. There was added hissing and yowling, as Mr Mao is prone to drama and special effects. Just like my mother. The more Donnie tried to shake him off, the more Mr Mao clung on. There was some screaming and then Mrs Liu hammered her ceiling with her stick.

I rushed to pull Mr Mao off. He gave Donnie one last hiss and a bitchslap before he let me prise him off and cuddle him and lock him in the bedroom where he growled in a disgruntled fashion.

"Let me see your arm," I said, helping him roll up his bloodied shirt sleeve, "I'll get some antiseptic, it looks much worse than it is."

And tea, there would also be a pot of jasmine tea and some TLC.

"We should let that cat at Tom Keen," said Donnie, wincing as I dabbed the scratches with antiseptic. He sipped his tea. I gave him a fortune cookie that I took from Wu Fat's. To humor me, he opened it: Love is often a little prickly.

Oh Mr Mao, I will buy you a big bag of Party Mix for this!