by Marian Tee
She kept chatting, explaining the process step by step. He should be bored, but he was not. Everything she said or did fascinated him – she could talk to him about everything under the sun and Nic had an uneasy feeling that he would still be entertained. He just could not get enough of the way she did not seem to hold anything back.
The editing part took her about half an hour. By the time she was done, he was even more fascinated – and she was sleepy. Laughing softly as she struggled to keep her head up, he dismissed her protests and pulled her towards him.
“Sleep,” he commanded.
“But I want to post it—”
“Later. You’re obviously tired.”
She tried to protest but ended up yawning instead. He raised an arrogant brow at that, an ‘I told you’ expression on his face, and she grimaced.
“Sleep.”
“So bossy,” she retorted, but it was completely ruined by another yawn she couldn’t control. With a sigh, she snuggled closer to him.
He wished he could place her on his lap but knew it would be too much, even for someone like him.
“Tell me a story.”
He rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a storyteller to you?”
“Please.”
“No.”
“But I can’t sleep without a story.”
“Are you seriously asking me to tell you a story?”
“I’m seriously asking you to tell me a story.” And she promptly ruined that by giggling. She couldn’t help it, with Luuk sounding so aghast. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she pleaded, “Just one, please? I have a hard time falling asleep when flying.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, he said, “What the hell do I know about bedtime stories?”
“It doesn’t have to be a bedtime story like a fairytale,” she answered quickly. “It can be, like, anything…like…why are you flying to Amsterdam?”
“It is where I live.” He should not have said that, but he had.
“Oh.” She waited for him to ask why she was flying to his city. When moments passed and he did not, she laughed, knowing that it was typical arrogance that had him refraining from asking any questions. She told him, “I’m on my way to Paris.”
“I know,” he said dryly right away. “You let me read your travel itinerary, remember?”
“Oh.” She made a face even with her eyes closed. “I forgot about that.”
He chuckled. “You are sleepy. Admit it and go to sleep.”
“I’m trying.”
He sighed again. “What else do you want to know?”
“Umm…what’s your job?”
“Troubleshooting.”
“Oh…” When he didn’t say anything else, she didn’t press him, thinking that he might be one of those types who were self-conscious about their jobs for whatever reason.
Deciding it was his turn to ask, he returned the question to her.
“My job? I’m a troubleshooter, too, in a way. I do search engine optimization for websites and blogs.”
He was impressed. Nic had no doubt Ayah was a nice girl, but with how impressionable she seemed to be, he had assumed that she was not the type to have such a technical job. “You work for a company?”
“I freelance. It’s how I get to travel.”
They exchanged more questions and answers, her words becoming slurred and slurred, and in another few moments she was sleeping, her breathing becoming deep and regular.
Her face was a picture of innocence – and it would not stay that way if, after this flight, he maintained contact with her.
The hours passed.
He could not sleep, could not stop staring at her, and worst of all he could not find a way to convince himself that he did not feel anything for this woman he had known for less than a day.
She made him feel weak and powerful at the same time.
She made him…feel, bottom line, and Nic just couldn’t have that.
The overhead light for the seatbelt option lit up and the pilot’s voice boomed out of the speakers as he announced the plane’s imminent safe landing in Amsterdam. He secured her seatbelt for her, but she did not stir.
The plane landed and still she did not wake.
He was not the kind of man who believed in fate, but for this special girl whose trusting soul he had taken advantage of, Nic was willing to give it a try.
If she woke up, it meant…
The plane had touched down, and the passengers started to walk past them. He straightened in his seat and with a swift scan of his surroundings, Nic saw that they were the only ones left.
Still, she slept.
He couldn’t breathe. Wake up, Ayah. Wake up. Wake up.
A flight attendant paused next to their aisle. “Sir?”
He said hoarsely, “Let her sleep for a few more minutes. She’s exhausted.” The look on the other woman’s eyes made him want to snarl. It was clear she knew what they had been doing and it was just as clear what she thought was the cause of Ayah’s exhaustion.
Nic gazed at the woman with the kind of contempt that only someone born to a family whose lineage could be traced back for centuries and whose wealth had survived regimes and empires could pull off. She paled and scurried away at the sight.
Nic looked back at Ayah. Wake up, lieverd.
But her eyes remained closed to the possibility of the future that he wanted to share with her. His body taut with tension and ruthlessly suppressed emotions, Nic bent down and slowly pressed a kiss to her forehead.
He had gambled on fate, and he had lost.
Goodbye, Ayah.
And then he carefully extricated his arm from her. He walked away, not looking back.
~ Four ~
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant’s voice was cool, almost insultingly sharp. “You really need to go down now.”
She nodded. She should move now. She really should. But she couldn’t. She kept gazing at the vacant seat next to her. It was almost like everything that had happened was a dream, and there wasn’t a single clue left to prove that it wasn’t. That he had been real.
“Ma’am?”
Swallowing, Ayah forced her shaking limbs to move. She accepted the tote bag the flight attendant handed to her, mumbling her thanks.
She walked out of the plane without seeing anything. She passed through immigration successfully, going through the motions without being truly aware of her surroundings. Surely…surely he would be waiting for her?
Ayah stopped moving.
He had to be waiting for her.
He had to.
She looked up, tears slowly forming in her eyes. She could not believe it would end just like that between her and Luuk. The connection between them was special. She knew it, and she would bet everything she owned that he knew it, too.
She closed her eyes.
Her mom used to say that if she wished for something hard enough, that if she believed hard enough she would get her wish – she would.
She squeezed her eyes as tightly shut as possible.
Please.
Please.
Please don’t take him away from me, too.
****
Nic watched her from afar, the same way his own bodyguards watched him from a respectable distance. Move, lieverd. Leave me. Forget about me.
But she remained a still figure in the middle of the busy airport crowd, all of them indifferent to her silent pain – all of them but him, who was the cause of it. She stood there, a symbol of hope and innocent childhood dreams lost. He knew everything about her, and she knew nothing about him. He had all the cards. She had none.
He did not love her, but against all odds she loved him - the person he was and not Nicolaas de Koningh.
With a curse, he swung away and walked out of the airport.
She was not of his world, was not for him, and would never deserve someone as cynical as he was.
Nic started drinking the moment he stepped inside his limousine, and by the time he arrived in the f
amily’s palatial compound, liquor had numbed his senses, enough to bury the regret and pain deep inside him.
It was over. He had to accept that.
The main estate was ablaze with light when his limousine rolled down the paved driveway. It was a sure sign that Willem was once again performing his duty as the head of the Amsterdam side of the clan and hosting a party for one of their family members. Nic was tempted to turn away and drink himself into a stupor in his own estate, but years of hard-earned lessons in self-discipline prevented him.
Taking a deep breath, he strode inside, his handsome face wearing a courteous smile that revealed not a hint of the deep and clawing regret he felt inside him. All female guests, with or without partners, stopped to observe his entrance. Many stared at him with coy invitation in their eyes. Others openly gawked. Only those who were also part of the de Koningh clan were impartial to the air of brooding mystery and haughty aloofness that Nic exuded and which all the other women found so incredibly attractive.
“Nic,” Willem greeted his youngest brother with warmth, making sure not to pull Nic into a welcoming hug and instead only offering his hand for a shake.
Nic nodded.
Willem took one look at his brother’s eyes and knew two things:
Firstly, Nic was drunk.
Secondly, Nic was in trouble.
He said quietly, “Come to my study and let’s talk about it.”
Nic immediately shook his head, knowing what his brother was up to. “I am fine. I’ve made my decision.”
“Made a decision about what?”
“About her—” Nic stopped speaking.
Willem only continued gazing at him, and Nic expelled his breath in frustration. He knew that look on his brother’s face. Willem would only quietly and stubbornly keep at him until he was forced to reveal the truth.
And that was…what? That he might have just found out love at first sight could happen? That it did happen? Even to his own ears, it sounded fucking crazy.
“You can talk to me about anything, Nic,” Willem stressed.
“Later,” Nic finally said. “After the party.”
Willem’s body slowly relaxed. “Understood.”
They did not speak after that, both of them concentrating on their own thoughts and neither of them aware that one woman was eavesdropping on their conversation. This same woman would later successfully wrangle an invitation to stay behind and spend the night in the de Koningh estate. Afterwards, when all the guests and staff had departed, Thelma Laarson would quietly slip out of her room to search for Nicolaas de Koningh.
She was a beautiful woman, made rich from divorce money. But she wanted more and she had long decided that Nicolaas would be her next husband. As he was the only male in the prestigious de Koningh family who was likely to fall for her trap, Thelma was determined to do everything she could to make her dreams of becoming part of his family come true.
Nic’s story as the poor rich little boy became known throughout the Netherlands when a friend turned paid source revealed his history to the tabloids. His mother had tried to abort him, not wanting to suffer another nine months of pregnancy and having to work hard to regain her slim figure after birth. His father had been just as callous, treating Nicolaas like a bastard child because that was exactly what he thought Nicolaas was until DNA tests proved him wrong.
His horrible childhood had made Nic the most frighteningly aloof man in the de Koningh clan, but Thelma knew that same childhood would also most assuredly make him vulnerable emotionally in certain ways. All she had to do was to discover the largest chink in his armor – and tonight was her best chance of finding it.
It took Thelma nearly fifteen minutes to find Nicolaas, who by then was sprawled on one of the velvet couches in the patio facing the estate’s sculptured gardens.
He stirred awake at the sight of her. “Thelma?” His voice had the barest hint of intoxication to it, but that was more than enough for her.
“Can I join you for a drink?” she asked throatily even as she took a seat next to him on the couch, not really caring to wait for an answer.
“Of course,” Nic replied, striving to perform the usual niceties even as he tried to clear away the cobwebs on his mind.
Thelma gave it her all then, entertaining him with amusing banter, plying the billionaire with wine, and in between she asked him the most subtle of questions. She was patient but methodical in the way she extracted information, and in time she had all the answers she needed.
Ayah.
Her bitch of a rival’s name was Ayah.
Whoever that little upstart was, she had successfully made Nicolaas de Koningh believe in the possibility of love, but Thelma was having none of it. In order to get Nic to marry her, she had to do whatever she could to disabuse him of the notion. Nic would never marry Thelma out of love, but he would out of necessity, and that was more than good enough for her.
~ Five ~
Nic woke with a stinging headache and the worst case of guilt.
He was not the type of drunk who forgot what he said or did upon waking up. He was the opposite, and Nic winced as he realized the extent of what he revealed, not only to Willem but also to Thelma Laarson.
Checking the clock, he counted the time and something inside him withered as he realized it had been fifteen hours since he had last seen Ayah Chandler.
What was she doing now?
Was she thinking of him?
Did she hate him?
He was already reaching for his phone by the time he realized what he was doing. Nic swiftly pulled his hand back.
No. He could not contact her. He must not.
It had to be this way.
****
Two days had passed. The thought crawled into her mind like a virus that infected and hurt, but she pushed it away. Alone in her hotel room, with the lights switched off, Ayah found herself staring at her iPad. It had been like this since she had last seen Luuk.
She didn’t care if people who found out what she was doing would think she was crazy and stupid for waiting. They could believe whatever they wanted, she told herself. She knew her heart best, and it told her that she could not – should not – give up.
Her eyelids began to droop, but she didn’t want to sleep, fearing that if she did, something would happen and she would forever lose the chance of seeing Luuk again.
Straining to keep herself awake, she flipped onto her back and grabbed her iPad again. Then she began to type, praying all the while that her virtual message in the bottle would one day find its way home.
When she woke up, it was because of the insistent ring of the phone.
Luuk!
The bedside lamp almost crashed to the floor as she shoved it away in her haste to reach the phone. She answered breathlessly, “Hello?”
“Good morning, ma’am. This is your wake-up call.”
Shit.
She wanted to cry then and there.
Maybe there was no hope after all.
“Ma’am?”
Tears choking her voice, Ayah stammered, “T-thank you.”
No hope, she told herself. There was no hope and it was time she stopped believing. She grabbed her iPad from the table, clicked on the Facebook icon, and waited for her profile page to load.
When it did, she started to cry.
There weren’t any new posts or messages, but someone had tagged himself in the photo of souvenirs she had uploaded.
Luuk Aafjes.
AFTER
~ One ~
Summer, One Year Later
Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong
Mrs. Lee beamed at Ayah as she huffed and puffed while half-carrying and half-rolling the lady’s two oversized Louis Vuitton suitcases out of the escalator and hurried towards the guests under her care. The departure area for ferries bound for Macau and other ports was crowded, and she had to snake around groups of tourists and shoppers like someone intent on winning The Amazing Race.
“I told you, Aya
h,” Mrs. Lee said to her in Mandarin when Ayah reached her side, “We’re not going to be late.”
Ayah could only smile. She’d talk later, once she managed to catch her breath. She knew everyone who came to Hong Kong had shopping in mind, but the luggage had been seriously heavy. Were folks from Taiwan into buying rocks or something now?
Mrs. Lee’s gaze flitted to the queues in front of the ticketing booths. Her hands fluttered. “Now, to buy some ferry tickets to Macau…” She paused.
Ayah asked obediently, “Would you like me to buy the tickets for you and your son, Mrs. Lee?”
The woman’s eyes brightened. “Oh, would you? If it’s not much of a bother…”
“I’d be happy to, Mrs. Lee.” And she honestly was. She loved helping people, really. It was one of the reasons why she preferred working in a guesthouse rather than a hotel. There was just something nice about being able to frequently interact with tourists and personally help them, something Ayah knew she wouldn’t be able to enjoy in the often sterile and austere environment of first class hotels.
It took about fifteen minutes to buy the tickets, which she immediately handed to Mrs. Lee. “Here they are, Mrs. Lee! I hope you enjoy your stay in Macau.”
“Oh, how sweet of you.” Mrs. Lee beamed. “Thank you for all your assistance, Ayah. Our stay here in Hong Kong was so much easier than the last time because of you.”
The words made Ayah flush with pleasure. She knew Mrs. Lee was only trying to sweet talk her into forgetting that she hadn’t ever been given a tip throughout their stay, but she didn’t mind. She could see that Mrs. Lee did mean her words, and that was cool.
“It was my pleasure to help you, Mrs. Lee.” She pointed to the clock. “But I think you guys need to get going or you’ll miss your ferry.” They exchanged a few more words of niceties and then it really was time to go. Ayah turned away, a smile on her face. Mission accomplished, Mom. Another satisfied customer guaranteed—
Someone shouted from behind, “Ayah, wait!”
She looked over her shoulder, startled and puzzled. That was when she saw Johnny, Mrs. Lee's tall and attractive nineteen-year-old son walking determinedly towards her.
