The next morning she woke up in a daze. The room, however small and old it was, smelled of honey, cinnamon, and pancakes. It was reminiscent of her childhood days when she would patiently wait for her mother to make breakfast for her while her father would read the morning newspaper at the same dining table.
"You're up," a deep male voice greeted her with so much warmth, she forgot last night's occurrences. "I made you breakfast, hon." He brought a big tray and placed it carefully on the bedside table. On the plates, toasts, omelette, coffee and a red rose welcomed her. Somehow, she knew that the toasts were semi burnt, which he was going to pass on as 'a little overcooked' and they both would laugh it off.
He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and said, "I am sorry about last night. The meeting went on for too long. When I came home, you were asleep, so I didn't wake you up."
Cece stared at his face. A part of her wanted to get away from this place and from him, another part wanted to stay and kiss him on his lips.
Gavin.
Not the menacing man from the previous night but the one she met three years ago, and kissed in the dark corridor of her house. The kiss she still remembered, she wondered whether he'd taste the same today.
"If you keep looking at my lips like that I swear I will not let you go to work today," he whispered.
Without thinking much, she put her lips on his. The warm, soft touch sent electricity through her veins. She started slowly, just a peck, but as soon as she felt the magic working, she deepend her kiss. She sucked on his lips like her life depended on him. Her tongue played in its own volition. She felt her lungs running out of air, yet she didn't want to stop.
She wouldn't if he hadn't pushed her away. "You're driving me crazy, Cece."
"Huh?"
"If you go on like this, I won't be able to stop myself," Gavin smirked and murmured, his finger running over her lower lip.
"What are we doing, Gavin? Why are we doing this?" Cece asked, panting. Her voice broke. She suddenly realised that she was half laid on the bed wearing a skimpy, satin night dress that exposed her skin more than she liked. Gavin, on the other hand, had a shirt on, with a couple of buttons undone. "How did we end up here?"
"Now you are asking the right questions, Celia."
Gavin looked grim. He gently let go of her and looked at the tray of food. Cece followed his gaze and saw it. The toasts were almost burnt, however the omelette looked deliciously soft and well-cooked.
"Eat, we're going to be late," he said.
"But they are burnt," Cece objected.
"It's just a little overcooked, hon. Don't discredit my hard work like that." He said the exact words Cece expected, or rather, knew, yet the humour was faded.
"Gavin, can you please tell me what's going on? Have you kidnapped me or something?" Her loud voice reverberated in the room, as if she was standing in an echo point. Gavin didn't look at her, didn't answer, didn't even react in any way.
"Gavin?"
"You have always been like this, Cece. It's you who started it all. I blamed you for so long, but then I realised that you were the one who opened my eyes," he finally muttered ruefully. It sounded more like an exclamation.
"What do you mean?"
"If you want an answer, meet me at the flower market at the east of the city. Ask anyone, they will tell you which way to go."
Cece yawned. Her body stretched itself without her will. She was happy to see Gavin, she didn't know why. She could feel her cheeks heating up, her heart beating faster, a very familiar heat pooling in her stomach and spreading further down.
"I don't want to leave this room," she said in a groggy voice. She wanted to be there forever, lost in his arms.
"Neither do I," he answered and laid her down. He lied down as well, helping her to be at ease. "Here, put your head on my shoulder."
The next morning when Cece woke up, she was exhausted. She had a good sleep, comforting and sound, yet her fatigue had somehow increased. She took a shower, longer than she intended, then she wore a fresh pair of denim and a cotton shirt. The room was hot and suffocating, also a little humid. She tied her hair in a high ponytail, completely ignoring the wet strands of hair. Once she was feeling better, she went downstairs.
The room was small, old, and mouldy at some places. Nobody in their right mind would want to spend more than a night here, but Cece was going to do exactly that. She was going to convince the elderly couple and make an arrangement so that she could stay here for a couple of weeks, until she could find another way.
She met the elderly woman at the front desk. It was probably a part of their living room that they have turned into a reception area. She looked at the woman and found her staring at the tv screen. She forgot what she came for. Instead, she asked, "Could you tell me which way the flower market is?"
"The east market or the City Center? Both of them are far away from here. You need to take a city bus."
"How to get to the east market?"
"Take bus no 13, it will take you to the east market." The curt response came from behind a wooden partition. The old man came out wearing thick glasses and a worn out expression.
The road to the east market was more rustic than the rest of the city. It was the outskirts of the city, in the opposite direction from where she came. She chose a seat beside the window and sat down. She unwrapped a candy and put it in her mouth, then fell back on her seat. In her mind, the dream from last night took form.
That was one very vivid dream. Even now, as she was travelling to the far away east flower market, she could not think of a rational reason for what made her do so. She closed her eyes.
Turned out, the flower market was not what she expected. It was not a small market place in the outskirts of the town. It was a riot of colours and fragrance. Everywhere her eyes turned, she found small stalls displaying various flowers. There were flowers for weddings, and for parties. She found people buying flowers for funeral houses. There were flowers to give one's beloved, and flowers to decorate a house. In her entire life, Cece had never seen so many colours together. Most of the stalls were temporary, the people who came there were surprisingly contradictory. There were wealthy, influential ones buying flowers in bulk without asking for the prices. There were ordinary people asking for the best flowers on a budget.
Cece took her sweet time looking into every corner of the market. She took photographs on her phone, something she would use later as her inspiration for writing. She could draft at least three different plot lines right there, watching the diverse crowd. She was engrossed in her thoughts, so deep that she didn't recognise the familiar figure taking long strides towards her.
When she did, cold sweat covered her skin. It was a dream wasn't it? Then how did Gavin know she was there?
She started taking small but urgent steps back.
And then, it happened again. In a flash, he was behind her.
"I can drag you to a dark alley and make you listen to me, like those psychotic characters in your novels, or we can sit and talk like mature adults. Given your recent activities, it is very obvious that you lack maturity, but I hope you understand what is better, creating a scene in the middle of a market or behaving in a civil way," he hissed behind her. He didn't touch her, didn't invade her personal space, yet she felt she could not run away from him anymore. He was too close to her.
Cece gulped and nodded.
"I need to hear it. Say 'yes' or 'no' in words."
"Okay."
He brought her to a small restaurant. It was not a posh place; around her were people from the local markets, mostly having their breakfast. He sat across and ordered a cup of black coffee for himself.
"Let us first start with acknowledging the fact that we have both recognised each other."
"Sure. I recognised you the moment I saw you as your face reminded me of my loss," said Cece, grinding her teeth.
He grimaced.
"Do you know it is still an active case, and the investigation is still going on?"
"It's not. Trust me, I have the accurate status of the case. No investigation is going on. Police have closed the file as a case of robbery gone wrong. They have caught a man too, who happens to be innocent. You'd know all these things if you hadn't left."
His arrogant tone irritated Cece rather than frighten. It was too much to handle.
"It wouldn't change anything. I know he is a scapegoat, probably you are the one who found and framed him," she said. "I have lost everything that night. I don't intend to lose anything else to you. So, Mr Atwood, let us terminate the contract."
"I am afraid I cannot do that. You will come with me and continue working for me, because if you don't, things will not end well for you."