Entrance Part 2

She jumped and almost screamed, turning around. She froze. Shock held her perfectly still. Mr Vargar stood before her, in a long black coat, a bright green jersey and blue denims. He had a mug in his left hand, the rich aroma of good coffee filtering the air.
'Sorry,' he smiled timidly, his eyes tight, 'I didn't mean to scare you.'
'Oh,' she squeaked, 'No, that's ok. I guess I got lost in the beauty of your garden. I was trying to imagine what it would look like in full bloom.' She said. His smile widened.
That smile, made her pay closer attention. She must have seen his face a thousand times, but clearly, she hadn't been paying attention. Her vision was obscured by the lights and makeup of his movies. The Amar Vargar she crushed on in her school years was an illusion.
He had perfectly straight pearly whites with thick lips, a straight nose that was always a bit too big for Cairo. He had a square jaw, and his smile was dimpled. But his most surprising feature was his eyes. They were the colour of golden honey and wood, endlessly deep, fringed with lashes so long they cast shadows in his shadow. His brow was sharp and curved, but not thick.
She stopped short. His black hair was thick ebony satin, the kind that couldn't possibly hold a curl. It looked like silk. His skin was a rich tawny colour. He was beautiful. She was never capable of looking beyond his big nose. That nose ended her teen obsession over the guy she'd fancied for his superb acting skills.
'Don't you think it's a bit too cold for you to be outside?' he asked kindly. She could feel herself blush, embarrassed at being caught staring.
'I've been indoors for eeks, I couldn't resist,' she said, reminding herself not to stare.
'I think you've had enough fresh air for one day,' he said, his English unaccented and flawless. 'But I'll make sure you stretch your legs more often.' Of course, he would. He ensures everything. He smiled again, gesturing for her to follow him inside. He led her to the lounge. It was the first time she had been in the room since first seeing it the day Mrs Vargar was last over. The worry of the past day came back to plague her mind. She couldn't suppress her curiosity.
'When did you get back, sir?' She asked after settling into the suede sofa.
'I came in around two this morning,' he said cordially. 'Have you had any breakfast as yet? And have you been given your meds?' he asked tersely. She found his concern amusing and smiled.
'Yes, sir, Harriet is very good at what she does,' she said. She was glad to see him laugh in response.
'I heard you getting along well with my family,' he said, poking the fire in front of her. She was surprised by his terminology.
Curious.
'Yes, sir, they're all wonderful people,' she kept her eyes on the flames to conceal her surprise. 'Thank you for everything, sir. It's awfully kind of you to take in a stranger and for seeing to everything. The therapist has really helped so much. I'll pay back every penny...' he choked, cutting Cairo off. She looked up. He held one hand up and placed the cup on the table with the other.
'Why would you assume that I wanted you to pay me back?' he asked, a dark edge to his voice. She looked up to find his eyes ablaze with barely concealed ire.
'Er...' she hesitated, 'I er, can't, expect you... I mean, you can't expect me to believe that all that you've done for me is to be accepted as "a good deed" do you?' she asked, finally looking up at his now solemn face. He made no move to respond. 'You do?' gasped Cairo as she watched him, waiting for him to effect a change. 'But why?' she breathed, somehow more wary of him than before.
'Let's just say that a few people still uphold old-world values,' he answered curtly. All warmth and humour completely wiped off his face. 'Not everyone does things expecting some kind of incentive. You live in a very thoughtless world to think so little of me,' she felt heat rising inside her and did her best to bite back the retort bubbling onto her tongue. 'Is everything you do or give an offer made in anticipation of a reward of some kind?' he said aghast. It sounded horrible put that way.
'I'm sorry I've offended you, sir,' she said in a small voice. 'To answer your question, I don't. But that's only because I've learned not to expect anything in return. Although, whatever I have been given or asked for has needed to be returned in kind. It's like having a debt collector breathing down your neck, only not for money but...' she drifted, not wanting to delve into the sinister shadows of the world she'd left behind. The world she had been a part of, but failed to participate in, the world of The Grand Hotel.
She got to her feet and looked him in the eye, and said. 'Again, I am sorry for offending you, sir. Please allow me to take my leave, as to avoid offending you any further,' she said, her voice trembling slightly. She stalked out of the room without waiting for his response.
Irritation flared throughout her entire being. She knew what had sparked it. She just couldn't decide who to direct it toward, herself or her generous host.
She was fuming with herself over saying what she did and for not asking the right questions.
She was angry with him for jumping straight to such a stark conclusion. She hated that, after mulling over it for a few hours, his assumption seemed just. It didn't make it kind though.
As soon as she reached the shelter of her room, she called Alex. No one picked up. She tried another three times, with the same result. She felt trapped. She didn't know where Alex was or how to get away. She knew she didn't possess enough strength to make a run for it. Life was kicking her while she was down.
Lovely! She thought.
For the rest of the day, Cairo camped out in her room, not daring to move out, even to have lunch in the kitchen. Anxiety prevented her from eating anything. Her lunch returned to the kitchen untouched, as did her supper. Inez snuck a few of her famous chocolate chip cookies in with a glass of warm milk, by way of Kelby.
Cairo smiled when she saw this and ate those at least before she turned in for the night.
Initially, sleep evaded her. The lightning and thunder were not conducive to healthy sleep, especially in those already sleep-deprived. Eventually, she managed to catch a few winks only to be awoken by the sound of a creaking door.
The potency of the medication had clearly worn off with time. Sleep had, once again, become difficult to come by, especially since her curiosity over Mr Vargar's motives had been sparked.
She looked around, unable to see much in the dark, with her sleepy sight. She rolled her legs off the left side of the bed and tried to see what had disturbed her sleep. Nothing. She decided it must have been the howling wind and the thunder. Just as she was about to settle back into bed, she heard,
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you,' the voice was male, soft and wounded. Amar Vargar moved out of a shadowy corner of the room to sit next to her on the bed. Frozen with apprehension, she stared at him. She didn't feel scared of him, which worried her. She didn't like it, though. A thought popped into her mind.
'Sir, is this the first time you've been here since my arrival?' she asked tentatively, her voice thick with sleep.
'No,' he answered simply, lowering his gaze in the darkness. 'I came here a lot during your first week and this morning when I came in,' he said, raising his head to look at her in the eye. She couldn't see his face well in the darkness. His voice was steady, but she could fit the pain she heard just on the edge of it. She reached over to switch on the lamp on the bedside table. It cast enough light for her to distinguish colour. He hadn't changed from the clothes he wore that morning.
The thunder and wind continued to bend and shake the trees and rattle the windows, giving his presence an ominous feeling. His face was streaked with tears. The agony was overwhelming in his eyes. She reached her hand to him, but had no idea what to do. She felt horrible, like she was intruding on something very private, something she had no right to see. What she really wanted to do was run away, but instead, she found herself attempting to comfort him. She withdrew her hand as the thought registered. She wasn't sure he'd want her touching him. Hesitantly, she reached out again and ran the back of her right hand down his face from his left eye across the wet smudges. Then she ran it across from his nose out to his cheekbone. She repeated the gesture on the other side to no avail. The tears instantly replaced themselves on his face.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered, not really sure what she was apologising for. She tried disposing of the fresh torrent with the same result. She didn't know what to do or say to make him feel better.
As she moved her hand away for the third time, he caught it and gently pulled her toward him, very, very slowly. She moved limply, shocked by not only the intimacy of the encounter but by his touch. He moved closer and took her other hand, his eyes streaming, looking at it as tears dripped in quick succession from his eyes to the covers. He lifted his eyes to look into hers, almost as if he were asking for her permission and leaned his torso forward. Her eyes never left his agonised face.
He held her glance, shaking from the tears, and lowered his head to her shoulder. With his face under her jaw, he wrapped his arms around her and cried. Uncertainly, she rubbed soothing circles onto his back and stroked his hair. It felt like silk. His gentle shaking turned into violent shudders, then back again. When he moved again, her shoulder was soaked. His red eyes were swollen. But thankfully, no more tears came.
'I'm sorry,' he croaked. 'I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to...'
'Sh...' she said. 'You don't need to say anything. I understand.' she smiled.
'Thank you,' he said fervently, 'Go back to sleep now and don't worry about me, ok?' he said, reaching up for her face with both hands. Her heart skittered off its natural rhythm as his face closed in on hers, but before she could really panic, he stretched his neck to kiss her forehead. The pain in his eyes had not subsided one bit.
Getting off the bed, he said, 'Get some sleep. You need it,' he said. Obediently, she swung her legs back under the covers as he tucked her in. He kissed her on the forehead one last time before putting off the light. Silently, he left the room, closing the door behind himself with a click.
Frozen in place, she couldn't sleep. What the hell was that? What did it mean? Was it safe to call and ask for a second opinion on what had just transpired? She feared that the conversation would be "overheard" and decided against it. He knew that she was friendly with the staff. She was puzzled by the encounter, but what she found more befuddling was her reaction to it. She wasn't as freaked out by Mr Vargar's visits as she should've been.
'I need to speak to Alex!' she groaned into the silent night as the rain pummelled the windows.


He trudged up the stairs reluctantly as he always did when he had to retire from her room. There was something restful, peaceful about her. He wanted to make those moments last an eternity, finding himself at her door without conscious command. But tonight, it had been even harder for him to leave her.
If he was honest with himself, what he really wanted was to go back. Back into her comforting arms. To fall asleep in her warmth and let himself forget about the mess he had made, about the harm he had inadvertently caused her and let go of the guilt and shame of being so successful in public and failing so dismally in private. He wanted to hold her. To unravel her secrets, her dreams, her desires. He wanted to watch her dream and ease the furrow from her brow. He wanted her to feel safe. He'd witnessed her discomfort at being in his house. He knew they needed to talk about why he kept her here.
The reason had changed, grown more complex with every vigil at her bedside. He knew she wouldn't harm him, wouldn't harm any of them. His family had watched over her long enough to see that she wasn't the kind to cart news. And even if she did, all publicity was good. He'd take it. He deserved worse after what she had suffered.
He knew in his being that keeping here with him was now an unnecessary precaution. But he knew first-hand how fickle people were, and one could never trust a person fully.
Amar felt a cad just thinking that about her, especially now after her gift of compassion. He was right to keep her here. He could never be too cautious.
At least that's what he told himself as he got into his bed and closed his eyes, recalling her arms around him.