Return
1743 Words
Five Years Later.
The air smelled different. Richer, freer. Giselle inhaled deeply as the airplane doors hissed open and passengers began to disembark.
Beside her, Alessia Romano, her tall, fiery-haired Italian best friend now turned sister, tugged at her rolling suitcase while balancing a little boy in her other arm.
"Liam, mio amore, stop pouting. You're too handsome to scowl." Alessia planted a loud kiss on his cheek.
The boy squirmed, his big eyes narrowed over the black face mask. "I'm four years old now, Auntie! Not a baby!"
Alessia gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as though struck. "What nonsense! Even if you were thirty years old with a beard like Santa Claus, you'd still be my baby."
"Moooom!" Liam turned helplessly to Giselle, pointing at Alessia. "She's treating me like a baby again!"
Giselle couldn't help but laugh. Her chest warmed at the sight of him, her little miracle. Tugging down her own mask, she reached for his hand. "She's right, you know. You'll always be her baby. And mine."
Liam's cheeks burned pink as he buried his face in her sleeve, embarrassed but secretly pleased.
They exited the terminal, the humid city air rushing to greet them. Outside, a waiting cab driver stood by the curb with their names scribbled on a card.
Alessia wrestled the luggage toward the car while Giselle crouched in front of Liam, brushing his hair back. "Sweetheart, Mommy has an urgent meeting in fifty minutes. I need you to go with Auntie Alessia, okay?"
Liam's little brows knitted in confusion. "But we just got here... can't you come with us?"
Alessia groaned dramatically, slamming a suitcase into the trunk. "Exactly! We just landed. Who schedules meetings the moment their plane touches down? Give yourself a break, Gigi. Just because you're some hotshot trauma surgeon doesn't mean they own you!"
Giselle rolled her eyes and pouted playfully. "It won't take long. I promise. You and Liam will be home before I am."
Alessia crossed her arms stubbornly. "Then don't go at all."
"Alessia..." Giselle sighed, ignoring her protest. She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Liam's forehead. "Be good for Auntie, alright? Look after her for me."
Liam straightened proudly, puffing his tiny chest. "Yes, Mommy!"
Alessia threw her hands in the air. "Look at that! Even your son is belittling me!"
Giselle laughed and waved as the cab drove off, carrying her world inside it.
When they vanished from view, her smile slipped. She exhaled sharply, clutching her mask in her hand.
"Hopefully," she muttered, "I don't run into those bastards."
She glanced down at her outfit, simple travel clothes. Not nearly professional enough for the kind of meeting she was about to attend. "Damn it. I hate shopping..." she grumbled, raking a hand through her hair. "But I need something proper before the meeting."
Just as she turned to head toward the shopping wing, shouts erupted from the VIP terminal across the hall.
"Someone collapsed!"
"Call for help! She's not breathing properly!"
Giselle's ears perked. Collapsed? She checked her watch, "thirty-five minutes left" She cursed under her breath and bolted toward the commotion.
The VIP area was swarming with security, assistants, gawkers. "So many people," Giselle muttered, shoving through the crowd. "What is this, a royal parade?"
At the center lay an elderly woman on the floor, her silver hair spread across the marble tiles, her breathing shallow. Around her stood several tall men in plain suits, bodyguards, though their posture screamed dominance, not mere protection.
One man was frantically trying to place a call, but the connection failed.
"Step away from her!" he barked as Giselle pushed forward.
She ignored him, kneeling sharply beside the old woman. Two fingers pressed to the carotid artery. Faint pulse, breathing shallow. She quickly checked her pupils, skin temperature, capillary refill.
"Blood pressure's low," she muttered.
The bodyguard's eyes widened. "What did you say-? I told you to step back!" He reached to yank her away.
But Giselle pulled him by the collar and whispered, "If you really want her dead, try and stop me!"
The bodyguard froze.
Giselle didn't bother with him and fixed her gaze back on the woman. Her hands moved quickly. "Rather than wasting time dragging me away, clear the area. She needs space to breathe. Now."
There was hesitation, then the leader of the men barked, "You heard her! Clear them out!"
The circle widened.
Giselle ripped open the woman's blouse collar, tilted her head gently to clear the airway, and elevated her legs slightly using a rolled coat. She ordered sharply, "Get me water. Sugar if you have it."
A panicked assistant shoved a bottle into her hand. Giselle sprinkled a few drops onto the woman's lips, then rubbed her sternum firmly to stimulate response.
Seconds ticked by.
The woman groaned weakly. Her eyelids fluttered open.
Her gaze landed on Giselle's face. Her lips parted, whispering hoarsely, "An... angel?"
Giselle's lips curved softly. "No, Granny. Just someone passing by."
The leader of the men exhaled in visible relief, bowing low. "Thank you, miss. You don't understand, if anything happened to our Madam, my boss would skin me alive."
"Don't thank me," Giselle said briskly. She grabbed a wheelchair from a stunned airline staff member and motioned for the men to lift the woman. "Just get her proper medical attention. But she'll be fine. Low BP, stress, dehydration. Nothing fatal, at least today."
The woman's fingers curled around Giselle's hand as she was settled into the chair. "Child... how can I repay you?"
"You could be my grandmother," Giselle said kindly. "I'd help you anytime, no repayment needed."
The old woman's eyes twinkled, touched. She murmured something to one of her men. A moment later, a black card was pressed into Giselle's palm. Embossed on it was a golden wolf crest.
"If you need anything, please feel free to contact me."
The logo looked oddly familiar, but she didn't dwell on it. She tucked it into her pocket. "Thank you, Grandma. But I really have to run." She squeezed the woman's hand once before striding off.
The old woman sighed after her retreating figure. "Hopefully, our paths cross again..."
The leader of the men remained frozen, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Giselle sprinted down the corridor, muttering curses under her breath. "s**t, s**t, s**t! Thirty minutes left." She yanked her mask from her pocket and tried to tug it on while rounding the corner and then, collided with a wall.
No. Not a wall. A body.
A solid, muscular body that smelled faintly of sandalwood and crisp cedar.
The impact sent her stumbling back, but before she hit the ground, an arm shot out, wrapping firmly around her waist.
Her mask slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the floor.
The man steadied himself by catching the edge of the wall with his free hand. His grip on her waist was strong, almost possessive.
Then his gaze locked onto her face.
Intense. Sharp. Familiar.
His nostrils flared. He leaned slightly closer. "You smell... familiar."
Giselle blinked, stunned. "What-?"
Then, to her utter horror, he lowered his head and sniffed her.
Her jaw dropped. "WHAT the hell are you? A cat?!" She shoved at his chest furiously.
The man froze, his brows furrowing as though trying to place a memory.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped deeper into her personal space, his shadow completely swallowing her. "That scent," he muttered, almost to himself. His eyes narrowed, searching hers with a ferocity that made her breath hitch. "Who are you?"
Giselle shoved at his chest. He felt like a mountain of granite. "I'm a woman you're harassing in an airport!"
She hissed, grabbing her fallen mask. "If I'd met a weirdo like you, believe me, I would've remembered! Now let me go! I have a very important meeting to attend and I don't want to be late!"
But his grip didn't loosen. His eyes glinted dangerously. "Since I was young, I couldn't stand touching women. Every time, I felt disgusted. Until five years ago." His gaze burned into hers. "I touched a woman then... and I felt nothing but calm. Today..." His thumb brushed her side almost absently. "It's the same. I can touch you."
Giselle stared at him like he'd grown horns. "Sir. Please. That's... the most unsettling thing I've ever heard."
Their phones rang simultaneously.
Both answered at the same time:
"Hmm, I might be a bit late. Something came up."
The eerie synchronization made them pause, eyes locking again.
Giselle exhaled sharply. "Look. I don't know who you are, and I don't care. Let. Me. Go."
Finally, he released her.
She snatched her mask, shoved it onto her face, and sprinted off without another word.
The man stood frozen, staring at his hand-the hand that had just held her.
Moments later, one of his subordinates jogged up, slightly breathless. His eyes tracked the woman turning a corner. "Oh. I see you've already met the lady."
The man's head whipped toward him. "What lady?"
"The one who saved Madam Locke earlier," the subordinate explained.
Silence.
The man's jaw tightened, teeth grinding audibly. "Find me everything you can about her. I want it on my desk by noon."
The subordinate flinched. "Yes, Boss." Internally, though, he whined, "I'm a bodyguard, not a private investigator..."
--
Outside, a sleek SUV pulled up. The elderly woman from earlier-Madam Locke, was seated comfortably inside now, color slowly returning to her face.
Her grandson climbed in after her, his tall frame filling the space. "How are you feeling, Grandma?"
Rather than answering directly, her lips curved slyly. "I've found the perfect bride for you."
His smirk was humorless, but his eyes gleamed faintly. He already had an inkling of who she meant.
"Let's get you home first," he said smoothly, signaling the driver. "And Grandma, rest. Don't start planning blind dates."
Madam Locke chuckled knowingly. "I can't help it. I need to see my great-grandchild before I leave this world."
He said nothing, only watched as the convoy pulled away into traffic.
--
Minutes later, in the VIP garage, his assistant appeared, jogging to catch up. "Boss, I'm sorry I'm late. Had to stop for gas."
The man hummed, eyes still locked on the corner where Giselle had disappeared minutes before.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
But his mind replayed the collision, her scent, her fire.
And the faint whisper of her voice calling him a cat.
- Writer
