Chapter Two
1183 Words
I walked towards the door of the bedroom beside mine. My eyes wandered through the Penthouse suite which was decorated with antiques, oil paintings, Foche Bobois furniture, and Oriental rugs. I knocked on the door, my heart pounding against my chest. The movement in the room seized for a moment until I heard footsteps approaching the door.
The door flew open and standing before me was a man. His frame filled the doorway, tall and strong, a white shirt stretched across his broad shoulders with black trousers that fit perfectly. His blue eyes bore into mine, causing me to freeze, feeling my breath catch as I looked at him.
Neither of us moved or spoke. The air felt thick with something unnatural, something that made me unwilling to break whatever this was between us. Then, he smiled— a soft, subtle curve on his lips that sent a flutter through my chest.
“Hi,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to wake up until later this morning.”
I stood in silence. “Would you like to come in?” he asked, gesturing me into the room. I hesitated for a second, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was a stranger. But I nodded and gave a small smile, avoiding eye contact.
“What happened?” I asked finally, looking at him now.
“Well, you were attacked by three men. You were running from them when you bumped into me,” he explained, his hands in his pockets. “You passed out immediately after that. I brought you here.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, turning to the Jonathan Adler mirror fixed above the dresser to study the cut above his eyebrows.
“You know,” he began, as he opened the first aid box beside him. “It isn't a good idea to walk alone at night. It was quite late when I found you.” he faced me. “It is not safe.”
“I wasn’t alone,” I said, gazing back at him before he faced the mirror.
“Oh, what happened?”
He cleaned the wound carefully while I watched until he made eye contact through the mirror. “Uhm. They… attacked him. He ran. I couldn’t keep up, so…” I explained before taking in a deep breath, “I got lost.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said sympathetically.
“I’m sorry you got hurt. What happened?”
“One of them attacked me. He had an accent,” he said, still attending to the wound.
I came closer. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I managed to scare them off after going at it with the Australian,” he said with a hint of humor.
I giggled. “Let me help you with that.”
“Never mind,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Please,” I insisted, standing a few inches away from him now.
He handed me the white cloth and sat on the bed. I studied the wound before I started cleaning it up.
“I’m so sorry you got hurt,” I said, wiping away the clotted blood on his eyebrow.
“It’s okay. It is not your fault,” he replied in a cool voice.
It kinda is, I thought to myself. I leaned in so that our faces are only inches away from each other. “What is it?” he asked.
“You don’t need stitches,” I responded, observing his wound intently.
“Great!” he said, meeting my gaze and also letting the next words he said linger. “I have a meeting later today, I can't afford to look shabby.”
I laughed and wiped the area just above his eyebrow. “Great! Either way, I am going to cover this up.”
“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “Are you a nurse?”
“Uh, no. No, I am not.”
“You sound like one,” he said just as I laid the first aid kit on the bed.
“Well, I spent a year in med school until I realized it was not for me,” I explained, meeting his eyes.
“Wow! That is kinda cool.”
With furrowed brows, I asked, “is it?”
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
We spent the remaining time I used to treat his wound in silence. Although I was immersed in taking care of his wound, I was also keenly aware of his presence. Every now and then, I'd glance down at him. Each time, I found him glancing at me in return.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there and I knew it– a quiet curiosity that neither of us acknowledged. Our exchanged grew slowly. Sometimes we’d catch each other’s eyes just a moment too long with an intensity that made my heart pound and my breath catch.
“All done,” I said, feeling the weight of his presence as his gaze stayed on me.
“Thank you,”
“You’re welcome,” I replied with a small smile before sitting down across from him with a question that had been on my mind the second I saw him. “What is your name?” i asked, leaning forward.
I woke up the next morning with rays of sunshine beaming into my room. I checked my phone only to see a million missed calls from Jack. There was also a message from a familiar contact. I frowned while I read its content, despising both the message and the one who sent it.
In a swift motion, I got up from the bed and headed into the shower. The bleeding stranger did not tell me his name or who he was. He was also not in the suite by the time I woke up. In no time I was dressed and at the lobby asking questions about my mysterious hero.
“I’m afraid I can't disclose that information ma’am,” the receptionist said with a smile.
“Oh,” I replied, resisting the urge to use my status to acquire the information I desired. “I see.”
She nodded briskly. “Is there anything else i can help you with?” she asked, just as my phone started ringing.
“No, thank you,” I said and answered the call while walking towards the exit.
“Hey Jack,”
“Ava! I have been worried sick! Where the hell are you? Why haven't you been picking my calls? Are you safe? Is everything okay?” he rambled, anxiety and care etched in his voice.
“I’m good, Jack.”
“What happened?” he asked, not sounding convinced.
“Don't worry. I will explain everything soon,"I said, waving over a taxi. “I have a pl
ane to catch.”
“A plane?”
“Yeah, I have been summoned” I replied
“Summoned? By who?” he asked.
- Writer
