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How do we greet each other now? Do I call him by a pet name? Are we even on that level yet?
I mean, I could yap on about how physical this is, and how I want nothing more than his body. But from an emotional perspective, that is a blatant lie. Somehow, I just feel like we could be more.
I may try to hide it behind the logic and dispel any form of reasoning, simply because I’m older than he is.
However, the heart doesn’t lie, and I feel betrayed by my own organ. I’m tossed up and down this highway of enchantment and infatuation that shouldn't exist between the both of us. Yet here I am, imagining how a more detailed interaction would occur between the both of us.
It delights me to think about taking this further rather than quelling it or trying to set boundaries. If it has gotten this far, we might as well just take it to the extreme, shouldn't we?
We can as well just push the limits of our luck and see where romance between boss and her employee would end.
t does occur to me, but I might be a little delusional if I even consider the prospect of longevity. Relationships like this aren't made to last, but if I’m to engage in such guilty pleasures as having sex with my bodyguard, making the most of it is the most logical thing to do.
Finally, there are small windows and pockets of freedom where I can finally talk to Alan. As a director, he’s almost as busy as I am, and so there are very secluded times we would have to interact.
I hold a special place in his priorities, being first to the CEO and next, his goddaughter, so he's able to squeeze a few minutes with me.
"I hope I’m not interrupting too much. If I am, we could schedule this for another time because I think I might take up a lot of time," I say meekly as I close the door behind me.
"Oh, please. With how busy I am, take the rest of the day for all I care." His reaction sends the both of us into laughter, appreciating how busy we both are.
When I bring my own copy of the photo album and place it in front of him, his eyes fill with nostalgia, and he touches the book with respect.
"There’s not going to be much to add to it this year, especially as your father is gone," he shakes his head.
It's true.
Most of the photos in the album are for work purposes, times like signing a few contracts or introducing a new partner. However, the ones that really count are those relatively few pictures.
They are of festive times and silly selfies or moments that are just hilarious. Dad used to love a lot of those pictures and, in fact, used to be the one to take them.
"Well, I’m really just here for one thing, actually," I state and take over the flipping of the book from him, turning it from a leisurely activity to one full of focus and determination. I turn the page to Rayan’s Funeral and leave it there, watching his face pale a little bit.
"Who is this person, and what happened to him?" I inquire.
"Rayan," Alan says without missing a beat, his old eyes hesitating a little bit as he looks for the best possible way to phrase his next words. Why that’s important, I have no idea.
"Rayan Ghulam was a business associate. We traded oil in Oman pretty much forever,” he explains, giving me insights as to why I didn’t really know him. “That was our main source of supply while everyone else went to Arabia and stayed in the US. It was almost uncontested mining space."
He wasn't necessarily a member of the company; he was more just an associate, someone that moved in and out most of the time. However, from Alan’s explanation, he seemed to be aclose associate, being the fact that Oman is our second-largest reserve.
"How did he die?" I ask.
Alan remains silent for a while, spiking my curiosity even further.
Finally, he exhales. "He was killed.”
I gasp.
Well, that wasn’t the answer I was hoping to get.That might explain why Jordan is a bodyguard now. There might be some sense of security he feels protecting the life of another person almost as his own couldn't be protected.
It still feels off, though. If Rayan was Jordan's father or even relative, then this should mean that his family would be too well off for him to be a bodyguard, right? Making sense of this whole thing is a challenge indeed.
"Well, did the murderers ever get justice? I mean, it just really confuses me that no one ever mentioned this to me." I turn the photo album to myself, my mind burning with curiosity.
I keep on matching Rayan's face with Jordan's, and each time I do, I become more and more sure of the fact that he was at least a relative to my bodyguard.
I hear a sigh from Alan after he has been silent for a while.
