ONE HUNDRED
It wasn’t the usual blare of her alarm that pulled her from sleep the next morning; instead, it was the soft, persistent press of small paws against her arm. Yalda blinked, her senses still heavy with sleep, as she opened her eyes to see Loki staring back at her, his inquisitive gaze almost searching hers. She could almost read the question in his eyes—why they were in a room that wasn’t hers, surrounded by unfamiliar walls, with the lingering scent of another.
Reality came back in fragments, but it didn’t take long before last night’s memories poured over her, warm and disorienting. She sat up slowly, casting a glance around the room as if hoping to find him there. But Ioannis was gone, leaving behind only the remnants of his presence in the sheets beside her. She hadn’t expected the hollow ache of disappointment that crept into her chest, subtle yet persistent, settling there like a stone.
A soft, shuddering breath escaped her as she let herself recall every moment—the way his hands had settled on her waist, grounding and sure, the comforting strength of his touch. Even now, her skin seemed to remember the warmth of his fingers, his closeness, the rhythm of his heartbeat as she’d leaned into him. And his eyes, dark and intense, had seen through the walls she’d carefully built; his voice, low and rich, had wrapped around her, a sound that felt as tangible as any caress.
Dragging her palms down her face, she tried to shake off the weight pressing down on her all over again. The melancholy of her life, the bitter guilt gnawing at her, the uncertainty of what she wanted—all of it pressed down on her chest, too familiar to ignore.
She had let another man touch her, held onto him like a lifeline, yet a small, defiant part of her whispered that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t care as much as she thought she should.
Her gaze roamed around the room again, drifting to the nightstand, where a neatly folded paper caught her eye. She reached for it, heart stirring as she unfolded it and traced his fine, elegant penmanship with her eyes. Even his words seemed to carry his presence, wrapping her in an intimacy that felt startling and vulnerable.
Good morning, Yalda.
I’m truly sorry you had to wake up to my absence. I intended to keep my word and be here when you woke, but something came up. I should be back before noon. Please make yourself at home.
—Ioannis.
She read it once, then again, her emotions flickering between comfort and uncertainty. A part of her wanted to stay, to explore this tentative connection, while another part urged her to run, to escape whatever this was before it ensnared her completely.
“Down, Loki,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, nudging the dog off the bed as she began to straighten the sheets and fluff the pillows back into place, as if tidying away the traces of last night could somehow make things simpler. Scooping Loki up, she held him close, feeling the warmth of his small, furry body in her arms, a fragile anchor for her fraying nerves, and hurried out of the room.
The corridors felt strangely silent as she made her way back to her room, torn between wanting to stay and the overwhelming urge to flee. Yes, she had felt safe with him—he had made her forget everything, if only for a night. But what if she was wrong? What if he was just like Jaxon, and she was simply the next piece in a game she didn’t understand?
The thought sent a stab of pain through her chest, her pulse quickening. Her hands trembled slightly, her body responding instinctively to the anxiety creeping up like a shadow, threatening to engulf her again. She cradled Loki closer, grateful that the hallway and elevator were deserted, giving her the space to breathe and collect herself in the fragile solitude.
Once inside her room, she set Loki down and fed him, her movements mechanical as her thoughts spiraled, dipping and twisting in directions she couldn’t seem to control. She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her, hoping it would clear her mind. Instead, it left her alone with her thoughts, each drop echoing like memories she couldn’t escape: the piercing gaze of two men, the conflicting warmth of two voices, the ache for two bodies her own seemed to betray her by longing for.
She pressed her palms against the tile, eyes closed, water running down her back, trying to let go, to breathe. But it was as if Ioannis had taken root somewhere deep inside her, and now, despite every rational part of her telling her to leave, she found herself unable to.
~~
The hours slipped by in a hazy blur, and Yalda couldn’t decide what to do. She had thought about leaving, of booking the next flight, of retreating to some place where she could disentangle herself from these emotions. Instead, she sat in her room, feeling her life’s tangled threads tighten around her, wondering how everything had spiraled so far out of her control. She didn’t know how long she had sat there, lost in thought, until a soft knock at the door brought her back to the present.
Heart pounding, she opened the door, expecting room service. But Ioannis stood there instead, his dark gaze sweeping over her, noting every detail—her wet, disheveled hair, the redness in her eyes, the almost pale cast to her face. She froze, her breath hitching as she met his gaze.
Without a word, he reached out, his hand warm and reassuring as he took hers, pulling her gently into his arms. “You’ll catch a cold with your hair like this,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against her frayed nerves. His hand moved in slow, calming circles along her back, and as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, something heavy inside her released, leaving her feeling lighter.
“Did you get my note?” he asked softly, his voice a deep rumble that she felt more than heard.
She nodded, letting her eyes drift closed as she sank into his warmth, the tension in her shoulders melting away under his touch.
“I’ll make it up to you, however I can.” His tone was soft, his words wrapping around her like a promise. “Have you eaten yet?”
Yalda shook her head, almost too weary to speak, yet something about his presence quieted her restless mind.
“Right. Let’s change that.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze lingering a moment before he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was tender, brief, but filled with a depth that took her breath away. Her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the delicate warmth, feeling as though he was holding her together in that single touch. “I’ll order breakfast, and then we’ll dry your hair before the food arrives.”
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