Loving The Flame

Chapter Thirteen

Alora is feeling unsure about the situation, but she has a strong intuition that something is not right. The dynamic between Victor and the two extra security guards further escalates the situation. Even as they trail behind in a separate vehicle, their ongoing dialogue with Victor reveals his evident worry; it's apparent he's scanning the surroundings as if anticipating imminent peril. She might have been worried, but Christopher's composed attitude put her at ease.

She is sitting comfortably in the back seat of the car, her hair cascading down in perfect weave. She is dressed in an ivory-white, sharp suit, and she is sitting to the left of Christopher. He is well dressed, his sharp faces framed in a blue T-shirt and white trousers. He seems younger for his age, with his arm muscles stretching the sleeves. The air in the car has a pleasant aroma, fresh, with a hint of her perfume and his cologne. The hum of the car’s engine fills the silence, interrupted by his calm conversation on the phone.

She averts her attention to her phone to keep herself entertained with the influx of new followers on i********: after her speech. Her fingers tap against the screen of her phone, and her painted nails are a vibrant contrast to the sleek black device. She never got this much attention, and she is enjoying it by beaming in joy.

“We’ve arrived,” Vincent announces, but they stay back as he leaves the car and scans the surroundings with the other two securities.

“Is everything okay?” Alora asks, and Christopher looks into her eyes.

“Nothing concerning,” he answers as he shakes his head. He places his phone in his pocket, opens the door, and offers her his hand. She scoops her body towards him, feeling his body heat from the seat spot he just left, and reaches for his hand to exit the car. She looks around; the private jet is ready, and two cabin crew members are entering the plane ahead of them. As her eyes lock gaze with his, she purses her lips, and she gasps to say something.

It was a whirlwind of fear and adrenaline, the sudden cacophony of war breaking the tranquilly of the moment. Suddenly, bullets start blazing like rain from directions they can't see. Before a word is formed, her smile suddenly dissipates, and he leaps on her, tackling her to the ground as he lies on top of her, in response to the fire that's suddenly opened at them. His weight presses down on her, the hard ground below her digging into her back. And in the midst of it all, she clung to Christopher for protection, her screams mingling with the sound of bullets.

She has never been in this situation before, and the only rational thing to do on her behalf is scream to no avail. Adrenaline fills her mouth, giving her a bitter and metallic taste as she screams in terror. The fear in her mouth is tangible, like a bitter bile coating her tongue. Her heart races, and her breaths come in short gasps, leaving a metallic taste.

The rapid and deafening sound of gunfire echoes in all directions, drowning out any other sound; the sound of bullets whizzing past and ricocheting off nearby objects echoes in their ears. The air is thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder, punctuated with the scent of blood, sweat, and her obvious fear, all culminating in the moment when Vincent is shot in the shoulder.

"It's clear," Vincent declares into the earpiece connecting him with the other security personnel as the attack suddenly ends, just as abruptly as it began with no warning. He quickly moves towards them and shields them both. His left shoulder is bleeding, but his concern is to still protect his boss. "Are you alright?" he inquires gruffly, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings while shielding them both from further threat.

"Are you alright?" Christopher inquires of Alora, who responds with a heavy breath, gazing into his eyes in utter astonishment. "All good," he answers to Vincent, patting him on the back as if encouraging him, and they start moving, bowing down in a hurry. As they board the plane, Alora glances at her attire and notices that her white suit is covered in blood. She frowns, turning her attention to Christopher, who appears to be perspiring heavily and showing hints of tension.

"Oh no," She whispers in distress as she rushes to his side, but he collapses into her arms in the middle of the plane aisle. She applies pressure to his bleeding abdomen. "Help!" She lets out a piercing cry.

***

This visit to my parents makes me realise that I am recognised by many, which gives me the courage to open my phone. I'm trending on every social media platform, getting attention from many people, gaining thousands of social media followers, many comments and likes on my pictures and issues I posted, my parents's friends and neighbours that I don't know coming over to meet me, and the speech is the centre of attention in the middle of all this. Who would have thought the truth in my heart would work wonders? I guess I made the right call, after all.

It's clear that I'm the only child for my parents, but the love I receive is exactly what I've been seeking, and the time I have with them is never enough. Since my arrival, my parents, family, and friends have been showering me with attention and love. Receiving so much love makes the weekend feel too short.

Currently, my main source of tension lies in the backyard garden, deeply engaged in what seems like a captivating discussion with my father. Every so often, they take a sip from their partially filled glass of cognac, holding a cigar that appears large between their fingers, a gift from Christopher during his visit for lunch. It's evident that this was a special treat for my father, as he was delighted to see the cigar box and bottle, even though he hesitated to accept them.

Christopher can't help but glance down at his white jeans and dustin navy boat shoes that perfectly match his t-shirt as he chuckles. I am in the kitchen with my mother, observing both of them seated on the chairs around the dining table we are setting for lunch.

As she passes me a plate, my mother remarks, "He seems nice." I am puzzled as I gaze at her with a furrowed brow. "And he seems to care a lot about you," she adds, and she bites her lip, looking at me with a smile that says a lot.

"Oh, no, mom," I protest, shaking my head in refusal. "I mean," I say, gazing upwards as I ponder my next words. "He is kind and genuinely concerned about his employees," I mention, stealing a quick glance in her direction. She smiles, shakes her head, and turns her attention to the casserole she has prepared.

"That's exactly what I said," she says as she picks up the casserole. "The cigar, the expensive bottle of alcohol, the beautiful flower for me, hum," she walks past me. "All I am saying is that he seems to care a little too much about his employees," she says, shrugging playfully as she walks out of the kitchen, and I smile quietly, tucking my hair that she spent an hour styling. I look up, and I see her joining both of them, and I follow suit with the plates in my hands.

I may not know anything about him, but I couldn't help but notice that he had brought along two additional security personnel who trailed his car in another vehicle. Vincent appeared slightly tense, while Christopher exuded a contrasting energy. And I am not a cop who reads between lines. I decide to drop the concern that comes from my observation and keep my focus on the gesture he was displaying.

"What's up with the security?" mom whispers to me, and I just shrug in response. Before mom served us lunch, she took plates to his security to have in the car. Dad and Christopher are still engaged in a conversation about Dad's car rental business.

"I don't know; maybe it's a rich people thing," I answer, unsure, and she narrows her eyes as she contemplates. "I mean, he is too rich not to have enemies." I try to clarify my thoughts.

"If you say so," she says.

"Lunch was indeed amazing," Christopher says, and we avert our attention to his direction on my left.

"My wife's cooking is like magic," Dad exclaims, and we burst into laughter.

"I'm happy you enjoy it," Mom responds while holding hands with Dad.

"Speaking of that, how about you assist me with something?" he inquires, and I furrow my brow, gazing at him, uncertain about where he is headed with this discussion.

"Me, helping the mighty Anderson?" Mom asks in surprise.

"No. If you agree, you will be helping Christopher," he says. "I have a restaurant here," he starts explaining, and I purse my lip as I look down at my plate, understanding where this conversation is heading. "Just give it a thought; I want someone who can manage it from different perspectives," he says, making my dad beam as he shares a glance with mom. "You have my contact, so when you feel ready, let me know," he says, with the intention not to pressure them.

"In that case," she says, glancing at me for my agreement, and I respond with a smile. "I will give it a thought," she says, and I hold her hand.

"Well," he utters, gazing at me, and I inhale sharply, expanding my lungs. "I suppose we have to move," he proposed, and I nodded in agreement.

I quickly get to my bed room and grab my travel bag, say goodbye to my parents with warm hugs, and walk over to where he is already waiting for me. He opens the door to the back seat, and I step inside, with him close behind.

"You look stunning," he comments while turning on his phone, surprising me with his unexpected compliment.

His voice is captivating, almost as if he whispers directly into my ear as we step into the car, sending a jolt through every fibre of my being. I find myself seated in the corner of the car, almost as if I am trying to escape from him. I couldn't resist smiling, my lips trembling with anxiety.

"Thanks, you too." I closed my eyes tightly, filled with regret over what I had said. "Not stunning obviously; I mean, you are incredible; no, hot... I..." I shake my head to clear my mind. "I mean, I..." I exclaim, taken aback, but my rambling ceases as he gently reaches for my hand. My eyes widen in surprise, and my mouth opens to let out a sharp breath. His hand is extended towards me, and as he grasps me, I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through my body, a tingling sensation spreading from my hand to my entire being. And his gaze is intense and focused on mine, making me swallow hard as I test the white wine I had during lunch.

"Thank you," he says with a smile that extends to his eyes. Coming to the rescue, his phone rings, causing his smile to disappear and his jaw to tighten into a firm expression. I believe he is interested in continuing the discussion, unlike myself. He shifts his focus to the phone while I gaze out the window.

Despite being on the phone, he continues to glance in my direction, offering a reassuring smile. Remaining silent allows me to concentrate on every intricate aspect. I am now sure that there is something odd that is worrying Vincent in the front passenger seat. Even though I make an effort to stay occupied on my phone from time to time, I can see he maintains continuous communication via the earpiece with the other two securities in the car that trail behind us.

“We’ve arrived,” I suddenly hear Vincent speak and I look up to his direction and then to Christopher.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, and Christopher looks into my eyes.

“Nothing concerning,” he answers as he shakes his head. He places his phone in his pocket, opens the door, and leaves the car, but he is offering his hand to help me leave the car. I once again take his hand smiling as I follow him.

All of a sudden, a gunshot rings out, causing my body to freeze in shock. Christopher pounces on me and brings me down to the ground, protecting me from any danger. I am shouting as I embrace him tightly and draw him nearer to me. I'm feeling lost and confused about everything. All I could hear was constant static. At a certain moment, I glance over to where Vincent is reacting to the gunfire, only to witness him being shot. I feel like I lost my voice, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I tighten my embrace on Christopher, feeling hopeless.

"It's clear," Vincent declares. "Are you alright?" he inquires brusquely, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings. Uncertain about the pace of events, the outcome, and Vincent's survival despite his injuries.

"Are you alright?" I respond to Christopher's question with a nod and gasped lips while taking deep breaths. "All good," he answers to Vincent, patting him on the back and assuring him.

Christopher assists me to my feet and guides me to the plane, all while we remain in the presence of Vincent and the other security personnel, including four more individuals who had gone unnoticed by me until the gunfire erupted.

Just as we enter the plane, I look down at myself. I am smeared with blood. My left hand clears my hair as my right hand presses on my belly. I look up, coming to the realisation of what might transpire.

"Oh no," I whisper in heartbreak, and I turn to look at Christopher, who is pressing on his belly, which is bleeding profoundly. I quickly rush to his side, but he collapses into my arms in the middle of the plane aisle, with seats in fancy arrangements. I apply pressure to his bleeding abdomen. "Help!" I let out a scream as tears began to stream down my face.