"It's all my fault!"
"No brother it's not! Why you are saying this!"
"They almost took her away!"
"But we saved her. You saved her! It's alright brother."
"It's happening, again! I will never forgive myself, Marco, if anything happens to her!"
"It's not your fault! You fucking saved her you idiot!"
"It's my fault God dammit! I let this shit happen!"
All the hushed whispers in the room woke me up. A sudden burst of bright light almost blinded me with its intensity.
I found myself in my suite, nestled in my bed with sunlight streaming in through the open windows. I recognized one of the voices; it was Marco. The other voice, tinged with sobs, sounded painfully familiar.
I attempted to raise my head to catch a glimpse of the person, but a gentle, yet firm, female hand gently pushed me back.
"I'm giving you a dose of Diazepam to help you relax, Doctor. You need rest. You sustained some injuries, but you'll be okay. Just rest and sleep," she insisted. I tried to voice my concerns but the heavy medications made it impossible. She administered the Diazepam through my IV channel.
I drifted off to sleep without realizing it.
When I eventually woke up, there were female security guards in my room. Two elegant women dressed in black suits, their hair pulled back in tight ponytails. John and Giuseppe were also present. The nurse arrived and removed my IV. She assessed my Glasgow Coma Scale, which was a perfect 15 despite the head injury I had suffered yesterday. I was no longer under constant medical supervision, but I still needed medication to cope with the trauma. They had administered nutritive saline through my IV, so I didn't need to eat, but the hunger pangs persisted deep within me.
I decided to have my next meal the traditional way, by mouth.
A server brought me a steaming bowl of French Onion Soup and a hearty Boeuf Bourguignon, accompanied by fresh pieces of bread. My hunger was so intense that I devoured both soups in no time. There was an extra cheese assortment on the table, the names of which I couldn't even recall correctly. I paired them with some grapes for dessert.
However, my mind felt foggy, and analytical thinking seemed out of reach. Diazepam was starting to work its magic, erasing the traumatic incident from the forefront of my mind. The lingering sense of impending doom had retreated far from my heart. I was now strangely relaxed and calm as if being kidnapped by random men was a routine occurrence in my life.
I lay on my bed for a good 40 minutes, gazing out at the bustling streets of Paris with a mind devoid of coherent thoughts. I had asked the female guards to leave me alone for an hour, and they had complied.
I called for John and Giuseppe, who had been waiting outside while I had my dinner. It was now well past 10 o'clock.
"Thanks," I said softly, as they had found me yesterday. They acknowledged my gratitude and left the room silently, their faces revealing no emotions or welcoming gestures. This left me alone with the two female guards who had re-entered my room. I noticed the guns hidden in their holsters, tucked beneath their jackets. But just before John exited, he turned back to address me.
"Now, you understand that we're not your enemies, and you're not being held here as a prisoner, right?" he inquired. In response, I gave him a look filled with guilt.
"Sorry," I whispered, and to my surprise, a rare smile appeared on John's face. I smiled back, offering a genuine apology.
John, who appeared to be in his late forties, had eyes that I initially thought were blue but now realized were hazel.
"You've got nerves of steel. You would have excelled in the Army," he admitted. I wanted to give credit to the doctor who had administered the anti-anxiolytic when I fainted, but before I could speak, I heard approaching footsteps.
"We located you through your phonecall. Smart move, Kaya," Marco added as he entered the room.
He handed me a new iPhone in its box, his appearance reflecting fatigue and agitation.
"Thanks, but I can purchase one for myself," I replied.
"It's a gift, from a brother. Please accept it as an apology. We failed to provide the maximum security we promised," Marco insisted, his voice carrying a hint of something deeper. I accepted it with a faint smile.
"Where is he?" I asked.
Marco looked at me without uttering a word, understanding the unspoken sentiment.
"He called me Kay; no one has ever called me that," I remarked.
A hush descended upon the room, and I let out a deep sigh. Marco rose from his seat.
"Go freshen up. We're having a late dinner at Oasis, sis," Marco replied before walking away.
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Two hours later, I had taken a refreshing shower and made my way to the duplex restaurant on the third floor. It was nearly empty, with only two waiters present.
Marco sat alone at a table, some distance away. They appeared to have had a heated argument.
He appeared utterly depressed and miserable, as though he hadn't slept in a week. His eyes were heavy and drooping as if they had swelled from ceaseless crying. He gave off an air of complete resignation, as though he might contemplate throwing himself out of the window.
My footsteps created a slight sound.
Both of them rose when they noticed me. I walked over and stood beside him without the slightest hesitation, gazing directly into his eyes.
"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded. Not caring about how I looked or presented myself before him.
He parted his lips slightly, then closed them. His fists clenched and then relaxed, while Adam's apple bobbed up and down on his throat. I could see the veins pulsing beneath his skin of his arms. He was exceptionally handsome, and I caught a glimpse of some of his tattoos through his rolled-up sleeves.
If I were a painter, I would have enjoyed painting him. But I am a writer, and sadly, I don't know how to paint with words.
"Sameer." His voice cracked.
I didn't understand why his answer seemed to infuriate Marco. He smacked his forehead with his palm, leaving me perplexed by his reaction.
Meanwhile, Sameer vigorously scratched his thick, well-groomed beard, producing a distinct scratching sound. Marco then lowered his hand to cover his wide-open, astonished mouth, as if he couldn't believe his own lack of composure.
"How did you know I was in trouble?" I asked cautiously.
There was a momentary pause, and Marco rested his forehead on his palm once more, as if anticipating something. He seemed to be seething with anger, his breathing heavy.
What was going on in here? What did I miss?
"I-I...I am the head of security here. They informed me about your call." He stuttered.
Marco slammed his napkin onto the table and rose abruptly. Just before he departed, he pointed his finger and addressed Sameer, who was still vigorously scratching his beard, saying-
"Don't come to me begging for a solution, as I have warned you a billion-fucking times, you idiot! And shave those things off of you, asshole!"
And he left the hall, with heavy footsteps.
"Is he your boss?" I asked him. Sameer lowered his head and nodded.
Wow, Marco was so rude to this poor guy.
"I'm truly sorry for his rudeness toward you," he said.
Sameer nodded innocently.
He appeared so pure, so innocent. Who would have guessed that just yesterday, he had killed three men for me? The precision with which he executed those actions was undeniable; it was clear he had always been a skilled killer.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. My entire mind buzzed with thoughts of him.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Kaya," he said gently, as if his words had the power to inflict pain on me. His voice sent a flutter through my heart.
"For what?" I asked in response.
"For everything that happened yesterday, for what you had to witness, I am truly sorry," he replied with a tone tinged with regret. Dark circles engulfed the skin around his eyes.
I let out a sigh; it wasn't his fault. I had been a bitch to all the staff in this hotel.
"Don't blame yourself," I reassured him. He looked as though he might break into tears, and the pain in his face tugged at my heartstrings. I had a strong urge to cup his face in my palms and tell him he was doing his best, but I resisted.
"You didn't get any sleep last night, did you?" I asked.
"I'll never forgive myself," he replied, his gaze fixed on the floor. I let out another sigh.
"Listen, I'm a doctor. I've seen my fair share of dead bodies. It's okay. You saved my life," I assured him.
"I'm not talking about dead bodies. I'm talking about putting you in danger," he said.
"Nobody put me in danger. I dug that hole all by myself. I should have brought John or Ju with me," I admitted.
"Ju? Who is Ju?" he asked with confusion.
"Giuseppe, I call him Ju," I replied.
Sameer looked at me, initially astonished, and then burst into hysterical laughter as if he had momentarily forgotten the guilt that had consumed him just moments ago. His laughter revealed the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on a person. His eyes crinkled around his thick brows, and he came close to tearing up with amusement.
"Oh God! Ju! Your Ju is a sniper, and you call him Ju!" Sameer exclaimed, pressing his palm to his chest to stifle his laughter. I returned his smile, relieved that I had managed to ease the tension between us.
"I'm craving a second dessert, Sameer," I said calmly and softly to him. There must have been something in my voice that caught his attention, for he stopped laughing and gazed at me in awe. Then he raised his fingers, and a waiter promptly appeared with a menu. I ordered Mille-feuille, mine in pistachio-rose flavor, and Sameer's in dark chocolate flavor.
I made a mistake by bringing up John and Ju and questioning why they seemed so grumpy.
Sameer turned into a chatterbox, divulging practically everything about Ju and John—details about their pasts, their professional lives—as if sharing this information was the most crucial mission of his life.
"So, I can't wander around Paris alone," I remarked, attempting to shift the conversation away from them.
"I'll go with you anywhere," he responded. His words caught me off guard, and I nearly choked on my pistachio-rose-flavored cream.
"Don't you have work to do?" I questioned him, puzzled by his insistence.
"I'll try to free up by 6 p.m.," he replied.
"I'll bring John and Ju along," I countered.
"I'll be your tour guide," Sameer insisted. His intensely blue eyes begged for my undivided attention.
Was he trying to flirt with me?
"I want to explore a lot of things," I replied, making it clear that my interest in him was limited.
"Such as?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. I sighed contentedly.
"The Louvre, Palais Garnier, the Concorde wheel, the bridges over the Seine, and more."
"No interest in Notre Dame Cathedral?"
"Oh, yes, that too! And Moulin Rouge!! I can't miss that; it was my favorite movie!"
Sameer smiled at me, and my excitement for my upcoming 6 days in Paris continued to grow.
"But not the Eiffel Tower?" he inquired.
"I can see it from my window."
Then it hit me. People from all over the world visit Paris every year to see that iconic iron tower, and here I was, taking it for granted because I could see it every day. I had a vague feeling that I might have been staying at one of the Volkner residences with a perfect view of the tower, but I wasn't entirely sure.
"I want to meet with Rhys Volkner."
I told him, and he stared at me wide-eyed, swallowing hard.
"Why?" he asked with a mocking tone.
I shot him a smug look and casually tossed my napkin onto the table. There was no way I would divulge my suspicions about the mystery person who had been showering me with gifts.
"To find out if he wants to be my sugar daddy since he is so rich that he can offer me to stay at his hotels for free....." I replied.
Mischief and disbelief sparkled in his eyes. He pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh. He sat in silence for a moment, and during those few moments, I witnessed his demeanor shift from misery to playfulness.
"Last time I heard that he has a Daddy kink, maybe he will enjoy talking with you," Sameer spoke with a surprising level of cockiness.
I couldn't believe my ears. Was he for real? I decided to brush it off, even though I was the one who had brought up the topic in the first place.
"Really? How considerate of him. I happen to have both mommy and daddy issues. Perhaps he'll enjoy it when I start calling him Daddy," I replied, matching his cocky tone, and then excused myself to go to the restroom.
As I left, Sameer pressed his lips together and propped his chin on his palm with one finger raised. I winked at him and walked away to the nearest lavatory.
He had a broad grin on his face and shook his head ever so slightly. Seeing him like that sent shivers down my spine.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
When I returned from washing my hands, I noticed that Sameer had already settled the bill for our meal.
"I have a 100,000-euro credit. Why did you pay?" I inquired.
"Next time, you can treat," he responded, gesturing for me to leave the restaurant.
Sameer escorted me to the elevator, and as we strolled through the grand hallway, I couldn't help but ask, "Where do you live?"
"Currently, in this hotel," he replied.
"So, you're a live-in employee?" I inquired. He was confused at first, but then he nodded with a big grin.
As we walked, I unexpectedly blurted out, "When will I see you again?" Sameer turned to me slowly, a kind smile on his face.
"You want to see me again?" he asked, sounding as if he could hardly believe it himself.
"Yes. Tomorrow at 6 pm. As you said, " I demanded.
Sameer blushed at my question, and I could hear my heart racing in response to his blushing.
I turned toward my elevator.
"Wait! Can I ask you something?" Sameer inquired. I nodded in agreement.
"How did you recover so quickly, mentally? I've seen people go through months of trauma after witnessing what you saw yesterday."
I knew precisely what he was asking, but if only he knew what I had endured over the years. I let out a sigh and explained to him, "My brain automatically erases painful memories as soon as they occur. Plus, I was heavily drugged immediately after yesterday's incident, so I've already forgotten what those three men looked like. I've already lost half of yesterday's memories, Sameer. This is how I've managed to survive all the traumas I've faced. It's like survival of the fittest," I concluded as I pressed the button for the 13th floor.
Sameer halted the elevator door with his hand and asked me with a hint of vulnerability, "So, that means you don't hate me?" His question carried a childlike innocence, and I was left momentarily stunned.
Dude, you look like an angel, and you literally killed people to save my life.
"Why should I hate you?" I asked him back.
Sameer gazed into both of my eyes and slowly broke into a relieved smile. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted from his heart. He appeared to be genuinely relieved.
"I always thought you hated me," he almost whispered.
My confusion deepened. Was he delusional? Was I falling for someone with delusions?
"No, bruv, why would I hate you?" I asked once more. He smiled and lowered his gaze again.
"I'll take you to dinner at the Eiffel Tower tomorrow," he said in a dreamy tone. His demeanor had shifted from the misery he had displayed earlier, especially after dessert.
"Eh...Sure, but let's not go to the Eiffel Tower for dinner. Surprise me with something even better," I responded. Sameer let the elevator door close with a radiant smile on his face. A sign to bid farewell for tonight.
My heart began to experience sensations I didn't know were possible. It felt like a million roses had suddenly bloomed all around me, their velvet petals brushing against my body.
When my lift reached my floor and its doors exposed the grand corridor, I knew I was going to have the biggest crush of my life on Sameer.