by Marian Tee
She stepped in front of the full-length mirror and grimaced at her reflection, which played between the lines of suggestive and obscene.
Oh well, Ilse thought with a mental shrug. It was only for an hour anyway.
Leaving the fitting room, she headed back to the office, where Gloria was busy encoding the details of today’s VIP tour.
Looking up from the computer, Gloria grinned at the overtly sexual image Ilse presented. If she and Ilse had been the same age, the latter would no doubt give Gloria a serious run for her money as the district’s most popular girl.
“You’re definitely going to have your hands full tonight,” the older woman predicted.
“It’s going to be fine,” Ilse dismissed. “And if something does happen---” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my pepper spray with me.”
Taking the printout of the last-minute booking, Gloria read, “Bachelor’s party, and they want a nurse who’d act like a naïve, country bumpkin.” The older woman wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about this, Ilse. Something feels odd…”
Ilse rolled her eyes. “We’re a tour company that caters to men’s sexual fetishes. Every tour should feel odd.” Sliding her feet into her four-inch clogs, she fluttered her fingers in an airy wave of goodbye at her boss. “Wish me luck. I need all the tips I can get.”
Outside, her outrageous costume – combined with the way her sturdy, flashy clogs noisily clobbered the pavement – drew gazes and wolf whistles from all around her, but Ilse took everything in stride, even using the opportunity to blow kisses as she invited them to book a tour.
“Will I get to fuck you if I book a tour?” one drunken tourist hollered.
“Maybe,” she lied with a wink.
Rain suddenly started to pour hard, and curses and loud yelps of surprise lit up the night as everyone broke into a run, Ilse included.
Across the street, a waiting shed promised temporary cover but Ilse had to run past this, wanting to get to the café designated as tonight’s meeting place in time. And so she did, but by that time she was also wet and shivering, the thin fabric of her uniform turning completely transparent.
Everyone inside was staring at her when she looked up, and Ilse started when she realized that this was one of the few family-friendly cafes in the area.
“My God,” a woman seated by the bar exclaimed indignantly as she covered her young son’s eyes.
If your God is my God, Ilse thought, then you should know He doesn’t like judgmental bitches.
Turning her back on the crowd of silently gaping patrons, she hurried down the hallway where the function rooms were.
One, two, three, Ilse silently read the numbers on the doors before pausing in front of Room #6.
Ilse took a moment to review the client’s request in her mind.
Bachelor’s party, check.
Nurse’s uniform, check.
Naïve country bumpkin, check.
As Ilse took a deep breath, her chest rising, the door suddenly opened, and she came face to face with someone entirely unexpected.
“I’m just a boy, standing in front of a girl…” He broke off when she started to laugh.
“I’m sorry, but am I really supposed to take this seriously?” She shook her head, and soft dark locks spilled down her shoulders, laid bare by the wide neckline of her floral blouse.
Behind her, the late afternoon sun showered the classroom with fading golden rays, and maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was because he had always thought she was too beautiful and nice to be real---
It seemed to him that all those rays were drawn to her like they knew she was the kind of girl destined to be worshipped.
“You’re doing it again,” she suddenly sighed.
“Huh?”
“Staring at me like I’m a freak.”
He quickly shook his head, appalled. “It’s not like that at all.” He tried to search his mind for the right word, but words had never been his thing, and it was his turn to sigh in frustration.
“Don’t have the right word again?” she teased.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, laugh at me. I know I’m the typical brainless jock in your eyes---”
“Of course not,” she protested with exaggerated dismay.
He made a face.
She grinned. “Sorry, sorry, that’s the last time I’m teasing you. I promise.” She stood up and reached for her bag. “It’s getting late though. Maybe we can continue with…” She paused self-consciously. “Anyway, let’s just talk tomorrow…if you still want to.”
I want to, he thought.
Actually, he wanted her, period.
But every time he attempted to tell her, the words would fail him.
He watched her walk away, and a terrifying, painfully lonely sense of déjà vu struck him.
One day---
One day, she would walk away from him, and it would be his fault.
One day---
She suddenly stopped when she reached the doorway, and he held his breath without even knowing why.
She slowly turned towards him. “Tell me.”
His eyes widened.
“Y-you can tell me anything, and I’ll listen.”
Ah.
His mind whirled, his heart galloped, and his throat convulsed.
The word he wanted to say lingered at the tip of his tongue, stubbornly refusing to be revealed. He wanted to tell her that she reminded him of an angel---
“Issac?”
Ilse’s beautiful eyes were on him, and he could feel himself drowning in them---
And it scared him.
She was beautiful and smart, funny and creative.
She was everything a guy could want.
He slowly forced himself to smile. “Maybe next time.”
He had been sixteen then, and he had told himself next time he would ask her out properly. Next time, he would be confident about confessing his feelings for her because by then, he would be the kind of guy every girl would want.
But next time never came.
Chapter 9
There was always something about rain that made even melancholy beautiful. The skies changing color as it wept, cold mist painting a frosted layer over windowpanes as the steady dripping sound hummed a melody exquisite in its agony.
Sometimes, rain made the pain bearable.
Other times, it was the opposite.
Other times, the sound, the sight, the sheer icy feel of rain just made it worse. Pain reflected in every teardrop, and there was just no way to escape it. In every raindrop that struck the blurred glasses of the club, the billionaire could see Ilse, broken and still. In every raindrop, her whispery and halting words echoed.
We are who we are, mijnheer…and we are not for each other.
It was this kind of night that the billionaire surrendered to what he had long struggled with but found impossible to deny.
He needed her.
He needed Ilse.
He would need her forever.
A sense of desperation gripped the billionaire at the realization, and he looked about him blindly. The opulent décor of the club, the heart-thudding music being played by a live DJ, the endless sparkling flow of champagne flowing down a fountain of crystal glasses---
He saw none of these.
His mind, his entire self, was still submerged in an endless downpour of regret.
Ilse. Ilse. Ilse.
And he knew.
Turning away abruptly, he walked out without a word, not giving a damn that he was being rude to the hundred or so guests he had invited to his party.
Right now, all that mattered was Ilse---
And he had to see her, now.
As he stalked towards his car, he called Ilse up, and his chest tightened as her phone started to ring. Pick up. Pick up, my love.
But she didn’t.
He drove like a madman, reaching her office building in ten minutes when the journey should have taken twice as long. Throwing his door open, h
e rushed out into the rain and banged on the front doors when he found them locked.
They opened almost a minute later, and he found himself staring at Ilse’s boss---
The anxiety in Gloria’s eyes made his fingers tighten around the handle of his umbrella. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse as he asked a question that a part of him already knew the answer to.
Ilse. Ilse. Ilse.
Gloria stared at him, looking like she was about to break down any moment. “Ilse,” she choked out.
Of course, of course, his mind acknowledged dully. It was almost like the past all over again. He had fucked up, and now someone else was paying the price.
Someone else was always paying the price.
They asked for a nurse who could act like a naïve country bumpkin. That was normal. But they also asked for someone with dark hair and brown eyes, and that was what raised a red flag for me. It was too specific – like the booking was tailor-made for Ilse.
So I called someone I know from the credit card company, traded everything for one single favor, and that’s how I found out it was Ilse’s ex-best friend, Natalia, behind all of it. She’s throwing this bachelor party for her fiancé, and it’s the guy who used to be in love with Ilse.
I don’t know what Natalia’s planning – I just don’t want Ilse to be hurt.
Gloria’s words pounded the billionaire’s mind over and over, and terror like Jaak had never known dogged him as he combed the streets of De Wallen, his blue gaze rapidly scanning his surroundings left and right for a brunette in a nurse’s uniform.
With every second that passed, he felt like he was taking a step closer towards redemption. This time would be different. This time, he would make it, this time he would save her.
But every second that passed in which he didn’t find her also made the billionaire feel like a fraud.
His soul shriveled at all the bad things that could happen. Men from her past trying to make Ilse feel ashamed of something she should be proud of. Men thinking they could do anything they wanted to just because of Ilse’s job---
The billionaire’s fears did its best to cripple him.
Would he really be on time?
Could he really change the past?
Should he even try?
He had no fucking answer to these questions.
The only thing he knew and understood was that he had to try.
More minutes crept past him, and the billionaire struggled to hold on to the belief that he could still make it. Ilse needed him, dammit. And he would be there for her. He would be fucking there, no matter what---
And that was when he heard her voice.
Beautiful, sweet, and so goddamn familiar because he had dreamt of it every night---
The billionaire strained to hear it again, and he looked around wildly, trying to find where it was coming from.
And then he heard it again---
“Oh lawd, the way you stare at me, sir!”
Ilse. That was Ilse. That was his Ilse.
“I’m not the one on display, sir. Please look here instead.”
The billionaire followed the sound of her voice, and soon enough he found himself just a few feet behind her tour group---
Ilse.
Indeed, she was wearing a nurse’s uniform, and though her costumes had always been tight, this one was more so than usual, and his jaw clenched at the thought that this one could actually burst open given enough time.
She stood in front of a window illuminated with neon blue lights, and her voice was earnest as she explained to them that this was the place they should go to if they wanted to be friends with---
He watched Ilse cock her head to the side, her brows furrowing as if she was trying to recall something.
“I think the word they use is, umm, ‘transsexual.’” She looked about her, wide-eyed. “I’m not sure what that means. Do any of you know what it means?”
Hands shot up, with almost every guy in the group looking eager to impart his knowledge to her.
“You, sir. Please tell me what a transsexual is,” she implored, her eyes fluttering.
“It’s a guy who got himself boobs and a pussy.”
The men laughed, but Ilse clapped her hands over her mouth, looking properly shocked. “Oh dear gawd, how can that be?”
And so it went on.
And everything gradually became clear.
Ilse. Ilse. Ilse.
The tension slowly eased from the billionaire’s powerful frame, and Jaak had the strangest urge to laugh.
Ilse, Ilse, Ilse.
How could he have forgotten this was Ilse, and that she was different?
He watched Ilse proceed with the tour, acting exactly as requested and without a hint of discomfort on her face.
According to Gloria, all these boys had once been Ilse’s friends, and most of them had huge crushes on her. But when push came to shove, all of them had turned their backs on Ilse. When Natalia had begun spreading lies about Ilse, making her seem like she was a manipulative bitch intent on leeching off everyone---
All of Ilse’s friends had chosen to take the easy way out.
All of them had chosen to believe Natalia.
And yet---
Even though Ilse had every right to call them a liar to their faces---
The moment the tour ended, the guys begged for a chance to have their photos taken with her, and Ilse graciously acquiesced with a sunny smile, still very much in character.
Thank you, Mr. Grant, and you’re quite handsome, too.
Oh no, Mr. Morley, you flatter me too much.
She was neither proud nor humble, her tone friendly but professional at the same time.
She gave them no chance to feel guilty or ashamed about the past, but neither did she act like she found her line of work an embarrassment.
This is me, and this is reality, her every look, gesture, and word said.
He watched her, and he had never felt prouder or humbler.
He watched her, and the billionaire thought, Ilse was right.
They weren’t for each other…because he couldn’t possibly deserve her.
Ilse was right, but he also knew it no longer mattered.
Because he also knew he could never let her go now.
She was the only woman for him.
Issac waited until the last of their friends left before hesitantly approaching her. “Ilse?”
She turned to him, big brown eyes questioning, and he could feel his hands getting clammy. It was happening again, Issac thought numbly.
He was drowning in her eyes---
“Mr. Bakker?” Ilse blinked in visible bemusement, breaking the spell, and Issac cleared his throat.
“Issac,” he said when he finally recovered his voice. “It’s weird if you call me Mr. Bakker. Makes me feel like I’m my dad.”
Her lips curved, and she said obediently, “Issac it is then---” Humor twinkled in her eyes. “But only because the tour’s ended and I’m no longer your guide.”
Silence fell between them, and Issac’s mind became blank, all the words he had mentally rehearsed disappearing.
“Are you okay, Issac?”
Ah. The familiar words struck him with a pang, and Issac thought, She had always asked him that.
He saw the genuine concern in her eyes, and he realized it was more than that.
And he remembered.
And he regretted.
She had always asked, and she had always meant it.
Unlike him.
“When we were sixteen,” Issac heard himself say, “there was something I couldn’t make myself say to you. I was young and stupid at that time, and I told myself I couldn’t say just anything to you because it wasn’t the right time. Because I couldn’t find the right word---” Issac swallowed hard. “I took it as a sign that I should wait.”
When Ilse’s eyes become veiled, Issac already knew that nothing would come out of what he was about to do. But even so, he also knew he had to do
it.
“I know it’s too late,” Ilse said tightly. “I know it’s my fault, but I also know I have to say this---” He choked off, and for one moment he was filled with bitterness---
God, he had been such a fucking wimp.
“It’s okay, Issac---”
It hurt to hear Ilse speaking to him so gently, even when he didn’t deserve it, and he shook his head jerkily. “I have to say this, and you need to hear this.”
She started to speak, but he didn’t let her. “I need to say this.” He had to get the words out now, before he lost his courage all over again.
“Issac, you don’t---”
“You were my first love, Ilse Muir.”
For one moment, there was just heart-wrenching silence.
For one damn moment, he almost considered letting himself hope.
For one damn moment…until he heard her whisper in a stricken tone, “Why are you telling me this now?”
And he knew he had to accept that he really was too late, and there would never be a next time.
“I still remember how I felt when I first saw you, you know.”
“Oh, Issac.” Ilse shook her head helplessly, not knowing what to say. This was an Issac that she didn’t seem to know at all. “We were five---”
“Five is old enough to know the difference between love and hate, and---” His lips twisted in a self-mocking smile. “Let’s just say I didn’t hate you, and everyone knew it. Everyone probably thought we would end up together.”
And once upon a time, Ilse thought painfully, she had thought the same.
As Issac stared at Ilse, memories came rushing in, forcing him to remember just how callous he had been.
She had to have been frightened out of her wits that day she had called him---
His whole life he had loved her, had wanted to be there for her---
And yet he had failed her when she needed him the most.
He had given her all the promises in the world, but he had failed her. It had given her every right to scream at him, to get mad, but even in the end---
Even as her world crumbled around her, Ilse had still found it in her heart to worry about him, had still tried her best to ease his guilt---
