Blood and sun;
1401 Words
The commotion at the door had woken Emir as well. Alara fixed her gaze on the man lying naked in her arms. With a curved smile on her lips, she studied him one last time with appetite, then pursed her lips and said, “Good morning, sir.”
Emir squinted, shifting slightly as if he didn’t want to wake from a dream. “No, not yet. The sun hasn’t risen. Come back to bed,” he murmured, trying to pull Alara into his embrace.
Alara laughed. “But I’m starving! Do you always discipline your hostages with hunger?” she teased sweetly.
Emir smiled, cupping her chin and brushing her lips with a light kiss. “Even if I woke to a perfect view, I’m still the prisoner here,” he said with a roguish grin. Then he added, “Everything is ready. Just get dressed, and we’ll go down.”
His words surprised Alara. They had just woken what could possibly be ready? Still, she nodded and began to dress.
Emir, meanwhile, was quite pleased with the view. His eyes lingered on Alara’s hair cascading over her bare breasts. Alara caught his stare and, in a playful tone, asked, “What, aren’t you going to get ready?”
A victorious smile spread across his face. “After a night with a woman this beautiful, do you think I’d pass up the reward of admiring my handiwork in the morning?” he said, gesturing at her body with a tilt of his nose.
Alara followed his gaze and finally noticed the faint red marks and bruises scattered across her skin. She burst out laughing. “You’ll pay for this, Mr. Emir,” she warned.
His mischievous grin only widened. Just then, a knock came at the door. A voice called from outside: “Sir, everything is prepared according to your schedule. You may come down whenever you wish.”
Emir replied, “We’re coming.” He rose quickly and slipped into casual clothes. Even in the simplest attire, he still looked striking. Approaching Alara, he wrapped his arm around her waist and asked gently, “Shall we?”
Alara was enchanted by his possessive touch. Curling her lips into a smile, she answered, “With pleasure.”
When they went downstairs, a lavish table was set in the garden. Fresh fruit, pancakes, crepes, bowls of honeyed yogurt, and countless other dishes filled the table like a feast. Alara turned to Emir in astonishment.
“Emir, it’s just the two of us! Who’s going to eat all this?” she laughed.
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know what you liked best, so I had them prepare everything,” he replied.
Laughing, Alara asked, “But when, how?”
In truth, Emir had woken at five in the morning. It was an old habit almost a curse. He had instructed his men to prepare the day’s plans and set everything in motion. But today had been different: for the first time in his life, he had managed to fall back asleep. And for the first time, he was hosting someone in his home.
With a warm voice, he said, “I have my ways.” Then, pulling her close, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t look at me like that. You’re making me want you again. If you keep this up, you really might die of hunger.”
Alara was delighted by his words. She giggled and sat at the table, filling her plate with appetite.
Alara ate hungrily. In her line of work, she had lived on simit, pastries, and tea. For women, the courthouse corridors were already hard enough most learned to adapt to the lifestyle of men just to avoid harsher treatment.
Her eyes drifted to Emir and caught him still watching her intently. What was it about this man? From orphanage dormitories to her life on stage, she had always known men who were villains. But this was different. How had such a man, once a soldier, abandoned that path and fallen into dirty business? She couldn’t understand.
Smiling, she threatened, “If you’re not going to eat, then I’ll stop too.”
Emir moved quickly, tossing an olive into his mouth. “I’m not much of a breakfast person, but I’ll keep you company,” he said.
Alara shifted with curiosity, about to speak when an elderly gentleman approached the table.
Tall and fit despite his years, with white hair that betrayed his age, he wore a finely tailored classic suit. The quality of the fabric and the cut revealed a man of refinement and experience. His face bore a constant gentle smile, his expression courteous. Hands clasped behind his back, he bowed slightly.
“Sir, do you need anything? Is everything to your liking?” he asked.
“Thank you, Arthur. Everything is perfect,” Emir replied in a firm voice.
The old man cast a few curious, sidelong glances at Alara. Noticing this, Alara turned toward him.
“Hello, I’m A.. Alev. How are you?” she said. She had almost said her real name, catching herself just in time. These secret missions always frayed her nerves.
Arthur brightened. “Ah, hello, ma’am. This is the first time Mr. Emir has brought a special guest. The kitchen staff took great care I hope it pleases you.”
Alara thought for a moment and nodded. Until now, Emir had always hosted women either at his workplace or his office. But why had he brought her here, to his home? Suddenly she remembered: “I suppose he did it because my life is in danger because of him,” she muttered to herself.
“Thank you very much. I haven’t had a breakfast like this in a long time perhaps never in my life. For someone who grew up an orphan, this table feels like an incredible luxury,” she said. The words slipped out sincerely.
Arthur seemed genuinely moved. “We always prepare the best for you, sir,” he said, bowing politely before leaving.
Alara watched him carefully.
Emir caught her curious gaze. “Arthur was my father’s servant and friend. In other words, the man who raised us,” he explained.
“Us?” Alara’s curiosity deepened.
Emir went on: “He’s been with us for years. He has no one. We are his home and his work.”
Alara asked cautiously, “The media always calls you ‘the prince of shady deals.’ But what you’re saying now doesn’t match that.”
Emir answered with a mocking smile. “Yes, the media is always chasing drama. They write whatever serves them. The truth is, they know nothing about me.”
He drew a deep breath and continued: “The man I inherited this kingdom from raised twenty children eighteen boys and two girls. He kept us under strict conditions for years.” His eyes grew distant. “Now everyone has scattered, gone. And I stand here, like a cursed buoy against the storms of this absurd kingdom.”
An ordinary person might not have understood his words, but Alara knew much about his past. The picture formed clearly in her mind: this mafia king was a Russian billionaire. For years, he had been entangled in mercenary work and arms trafficking. After raising twenty children, had he sold them to the Turkish state? Or had they chosen this life themselves? She didn’t know the full story, but it spun endlessly in her thoughts.
From Emir’s demeanor, it was clear he wasn’t content with this life. Instead of answering him, Alara sank into her thoughts. Who were the two girls, and where were they? As these questions pulled her deeper into curiosity, she realized Emir was silently watching her.
She looked at him and smiled. “Any plans after breakfast?” she asked.
“This is a vast estate. Perhaps you’d like to explore,” said Emir.
For Alara, a true nature lover, this was thrilling. “Of course, I’d love to,” she replied. But before their laughter had faded, a loud crack split the air.
A shot from the grove pierced Emir’s shoulder.
Shocked, she watched the blood spurting out. “Emir!” she screamed.
Emir immediately pulled Alara close, knocking the table over as cover.
“Don’t leave my side,” he hissed, his eyes blazing with rage and fear''
- Writer
