He blinked.
“I’m not even mad anymore. It’s over with.”
“They don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“No, but I deserved my forgiveness. I had to let that shit go. It’s over with. I really want to move past that narrative.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t want to be scared anymore. I’ve spent way too much of my life being scared.”
He leaned forward. “You seem pretty brave to me.”
I flushed. “You have to say that.”
“No. I don’t.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I added.
“I noticed. So where are they?”
I knew what he was doing, and there was no part of me that wanted Viktor to get tainted by my past. But the part about him wanting to step up and protect me made my heart do a slow backflip in my chest. “What drives you to protect the way you do?”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“What is it about?”
He swallowed and stared into my eyes. “It’s about that little baby girl.”
“She grew up.”
He sat back in his chair. I could sense that he was warring with his own emotions. “I made you get into the closet on the cargo plane.”
“I survived.” I spoke with heartfelt emotion. “I survived this entire trip because of you and how well you’ve taken care of me, and I’m about a hundred times closer to saving my grandfather because of you.”
He looked pained. “I regret getting you involved.”
The waiter chose that moment to bring out our dishes. He made a big ceremony of introducing to us each one and making sure we were settled.
When we were left alone, I took in that moment. The warmth of the evening air, the glorious food in front of us, and most of all, the man who made me feel safe and, in some weird way, cherished.
“I regret none of this.”
“Can we look around a bit?” After dinner, we slowly walked by the rows and rows of shops in the market, and I was spellbound. Everything a person could possibly want was for sale.
“What do you need?”
I lifted my chin. “I don’t need anything.”
“Then why do it?”
I lifted my hands to the market in front of us. “Because all of this awaits.”
He shook his head, but he was biting back a smile and I could tell he was going to give in. “You have ten minutes.”
“Twenty.”
His smile was wide. “Fifteen. My final offer.”
“As a token of appreciation for your generosity, I’m going to go on a quest to buy you something.”
“No.”
I ignored him. “Nothing big. Something simple but symbolic.”
“Symbolic of what?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“The clock is ticking, Blaire.”
I was almost skipping as I approached the first booth. “Don’t rush me.”
He didn’t rush me. He was the most patient man alive as I flitted from booth to booth, inspecting everything from hand-carved mirrors to knockoff purses. He stood off to the side, his feet planted and arms crossed as I inspected table after table of stone jewelry and went through every T-shirt hanging on every rack.
When he wasn’t looking, I bought him a little gift. A tiny silver keychain in the shape of a gun. I was about to take pity on him and let him take us back to the hotel, but then I saw it. The negligee on the mannequin was so exquisite that I didn’t at first believe it was for sale, but the saleslady assured me it was. It was made of a high-quality translucent silk organza and was a sexy, feminine cloud of perfection.
“Would you like to try it on? I have a changing screen,” the woman told me.
I studied the shoulder area of the garment. It was fitted at the shoulders and flared out in the most beautiful cut I had ever seen. As a buyer, my second question when buying clothes was always, does it feel good to wear it?
I looked back at Viktor, who was looking down the aisle of the market. “I’d like that.”
She reached up and unfolded a tall, hand-carved change screen and set it up against the back wall beside her booth.
Viktor’s full attention was on something down the aisle. I waited as she set up a mirror for me on one side of the screen.
“No one can see you here.”
I felt exposed, but she was right. No one could see me, and I would be quick. I shimmied out of my clothes. Keeping my underwear on, I pulled the garment over my body. As a professional buyer, I was always on the lookout for the unicorns amongst the horses. Sometimes, not often, I would find a single article of clothing that was so stunning, it made anyone who wore it feel like a million bucks.
This piece didn’t disappoint. I stood and stared at my own reflection. This translucent negligee was completely risqué, but instead of being tawdry, it had a delicate and feminine magic that made me look more beautiful than I knew I was.
Any naked female shape beneath this design would take on that magic. That’s how good it was.
“What do you think? Do you like it? Want to buy it?” The shopkeeper asked hopefully on the other side of the screen.
Not only would I buy this piece, but I needed to get as much information about the designer as possible. This was something that would easily become a bestseller at Au Revoir. I didn’t know how well it would travel in my knapsack, but I was determined to get this home. Perhaps I could get the hotel to mail it back to my address. By the time it arrived in Vancouver, I would either be dead or I would back home and at work.
I was putting on my runners when I heard the first shout. I stood up straight and looked over the change screen, but I could see nothing. Viktor was gone. Where did he go? Did he go and buy something?
I moved around the screen toward the shop clerk, but my gaze remained on the aisle. “I’ll take it. Can you tell me anything about the designer?”
“It’s my daughter. She created it.”
“I would love to see more of her designs. Do you have any contact information for her? Maybe a phone number?”
She beamed. “I have her card.”
“Oh, that’s perfect.”
A faraway female scream, followed by a tremendous crash, made both of us pause.
I walked to the center of the aisle and checked both ways, but I saw no reason for the screams, nor could I see Viktor. Other shopkeepers stood in the aisle to investigate. The alarming shouts had ended, and now there was nothing but silence.
As if the entire market was collectively holding its breath.
A trickle of alarm went down my spine. Where is Viktor? “Can I please pay?”
The clerk carefully folded the delicate fabric before sliding it into a brown paper bag. “If you pay in American, it’s forty dollars.”
I handed her a hundred. “The tip is for your daughter. Tell her this is worth much more.”
“Thank you.” The woman beamed at me. “I’ll tell her.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
More shouting made me pause. We both listened. This time, several men were yelling over the crashing and banging. The sound echoed around us. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, even when that shouting was followed by a rush of panicked screams. Okay, now I was really starting to freak out.