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I purchased a few things, haggling as the driver had advised me to, and eventually managed to get everything on my list without paying too much. I even bought some traditional clothing, though the plainest I could find, opting for loose trousers and long-sleeved tunics that would cover me from the sun and keep me cool. I purchased headscarves too, to protect me both from the sun and also anyone who might give my whereabouts away to West and Davenport. After ducking into a more modern shop to supply myself with basic toiletries and makeup, I made my way to one of the tiny coffee shops that dotted the alleyways.
I sat for a short time, snacking on some roasted peanuts I’d bought and sipping strong, dark Arabic coffee as I watched the people walk past. There were many tourists, it was true, but also so many locals who were much more interesting to watch, busy going about buying this and that from so-and-so, herding their kids through the crowds, negotiating prices in booming voices, or laughing, talking, and smoking in one of the various cafes, including the one I currently sat in. The stall across from where I sat sold some absolutely stunning mother-of-pearl chess and backgammon boards. My father had taught me to play chess when I was small, and we’d spent many nights chatting over a brandy and a match. He usually won, though I was getting better. I smiled, deciding to buy a board for him if I came back this way on my return trip, whenever that was.
The thought of returning home and my father’s reaction to my disappearance sobered me and the smile slipped. I sipped my coffee again. The hustle and bustle of the souq had distracted me for the last couple of hours as I had moved with wonder through this new world, but even here I couldn’t escape the feeling of guilt at displeasing my family, at worrying them. I glanced at my phone, but I had turned it off earlier. Call me paranoid, but I wouldn’t have put it past West to have some kind of tracking software on it. It couldn’t be that late though. The sun had set, and the first few stars were starting to appear above the city. It couldn’t be much past seven, which meant it would be more like five at home. I’d call my father and mother when I got back to the hotel.
I got up, gathered up my bags, and pushed my way back into the crowds again. At first, when the sun had set, the souq had seemed even more magical. The glowing lamps of rainbow colours, the spices more aromatic than oppressive in the cooler night air, and the music that rang out from street performers had given such a wonderful atmosphere, I had relished it all. Now with guilt heavy in my chest, I began to see the darker side of the souq—the litter left in the streets, the dirt, grime, and horrifyingly young beggars who wandered the streets pleading for coins. I’d handed some out before, wanting to help, but I’d been swarmed by more beggars, these ones adult men, crowding me, patting at me, and pulling on my clothes, so I’d not dared to try to give anything away again after that. As the night drew on, the place felt less cheerful and safe than it had before. I’d planned to find a restaurant to eat at. My guidebook had recommended a few, but I decided to eat at the little bistro at the hotel instead, not wanting to stay out too late.
Thankfully, my trip home was uneventful and the taxi driver didn’t try and overcharge me, which I was grateful for. After an afternoon of haggling, I was done. I would dump my bags in my room, grab something to eat, then call my parents and reassure them I was safe. I knew West would have told them I’d ditched them in Paris, and I was certain he’d have reassured them with the text I’d sent him, but I wasn’t looking forward to the bollocking I knew I was going to get.
Pausing in front of my door, I rifled through my clothes, unzipping the bag and feeling for the door key. One of my smaller bags dropped to the floor as I moved all my shopping from one hand to the other to allow me to search easier. Thus, I was overbalanced and there was a convenient bag for me to stumble over when the door to my room suddenly opened wide and West stepped out. Naturally, I went down in a tumble of bags and landed hard on my ass. I sat on the floor, glaring up at him, while he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“Did you really think we wouldn’t find you?” he asked, his voice flat and calm. Oh fuck, he was pissed. Trying not to let my nerves show, I scrambled to my feet and picked up my bags, refusing to look at him. As much as I knew he’d never hurt me, it was still fairly intimidating to have a mountain of a man be pissed off with me, especially when I didn’t even reach his shoulder in height. I moved towards the door and waited for him to move.
“I’m going into my bedroom, West. Please move.”
He stepped backwards into the room, and I followed him in, placing my bags on the bed. Davenport was already there, sitting in the only available chair. I ignored them both, transferring more money to my pocket from my concealed bag, and turned to leave.
“Where do you think you are going?” West asked, his dark eyes narrowing as he moved between me and the door.
“To the terrace,” I answered. “I want some dinner.”
“Don’t you think we should talk about this?” he questioned.
I sighed. “No, West, I don’t. I think I want some dinner, and then I am going to call my father and talk to him about this, seeing as you are merely staff.” His face didn’t change, but I saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes, and for a moment, I felt a little guilty. The flicker was brief, however. In that moment, I realised I was done being followed and escorted everywhere, I was done not having any freedom of my own despite the fact I had been a fully-fledged adult for five years now, and I was done letting West and my father control my life.
“Lady Victoria, please. We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Davenport had stood up and moved behind West, backing him up as always. He was always the calm, reasonable one. As my anger built inside me, I took a breath, not wanting to take it out on him.
“You are keeping me prisoner in my own life. I don’t want to be safe if that’s the price I have to pay, and I’ve had enough.” I closed my eyes in frustration. Why couldn’t any of them understand this? The pressure of my position, my father’s position, was bad enough, but the constant security and the everlasting shadows of people following me, watching me, was finally becoming too much for me to take.
I opened my eyes to see West still glaring at me. “Whatever you discuss with your father, he is my employer, and until his directions to me change, I will see them through. For now, that means keeping you safe and protected, even if that is from yourself and your own thoughtless actions.”
I hit him across the face as hard as I could. He could have stopped me, but he didn’t, and I heard the crack of my hand on his skin moments before I felt the pain of the impact. “Fuck you, you controlling, arrogant bastard. I’ll do what the hell I want, and if you two aren’t out of my room by the time I get back, I swear to God I will get the hotel to call the police.”
I pushed past him out into the hallway and made my way towards the staircase that led to the small terrace on the roof. I heard Davenport mumbling something to West, but I didn’t stop to listen. I assumed it had been something along the lines of leaving me alone, which I appreciated more as I stepped out into the night air. Wooden chairs and tables adorned with colourful cushions and tablecloths sat on the terrace, and a few of the other hotel guests were already seated. I took a small table near the edge of the building so I could look out across the rooftops. Woven screens and canopies helped to keep off the cooler night breezes, and the faint sounds of traditional Arabic music floated on the warm breeze from somewhere I couldn’t see. By the time my meal arrived, I was calmer and less likely to blow my top at the notion of running into West again. Something about that man recently was driving me up the wall more than usual. He was my captor, my jailer, but it was something more, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I knew for a fact they wouldn’t have left my room, so I put them out of my mind and tucked into my meal.
I had ordered ta’meya, round balls of crushed fava beans fried in oil, herbs, and spices similar to falafel. It came served on a thin flatbread, which was called eish baladi, and topped with salad, crispy onions, and hot sauce. The serving girl didn’t speak English, but she motioned for me to watch her and mimed rolling the meal up inside the bread and eating it like a wrap, which I did. The spices and vegetables were delicious, and I tucked in. Although the country was mainly Muslim, alcohol wasn’t difficult to get when you were just a tourist, so I sipped at the cool beer that she brought me. My eyes darted up over the bottle as two familiar figures entered the terrace and sat down at the next table. I groaned.
“You know the bistro is only for hotel residents, don’t you?” I hissed at my stalkers.
West nodded, picking up the card the meal options were written on and then ignoring me as he scanned the page.
Davenport sighed. “We’ve taken the room next to yours.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy the small quarters. I imagine the two of you will be quite cosy together tonight.”
“I doubt it,” West remarked, still reading the menu. “As one of us will be sitting outside your door at all times.”
“What?” I thumped the bottle down a little louder than I’d meant to, and a couple at a table not too far away glanced over at me.
“If you think we’re going to let you slip away again, you’re not as smart as I thought you were,” West replied, holding his hand up to indicate to the waitress that he was ready to order.
I stared at him, my anger quickly returning. I had assumed they’d book a room nearby and had decided to set my alarm early to slip out before they showed up at my door, no doubt to cart me back to the airport. Just as the waitress arrived at their table, West glanced over at me with a cocky smile turning up the corners of his generous mouth in a way that made me want to hit him again.
I gritted my teeth, imagining pushing him off the edge of the building and watching his body hit the ground below. “Fine, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”
He simply nodded and ignored me once again, ordering his meal in fluent Arabic. That, despite my fury at the man, did something I didn’t quite like to me. I stood up, smiling my thanks to the waitress, and stalked across the terrace, heading for my room and the oblivion of sleep.
