I woke up early at 7 a.m., and the first thing that crossed my mind was Sameer. I felt a pang of guilt.

I felt guilty for developing feelings for a guy I had only met a day ago, a guy who was ridiculously good-looking, without really knowing what kind of person he was. I was aware that my attraction to appearances alone could potentially come at a cost someday.

But he was so nice to me......

He had killed for me......

I mean...... isn't that cute?

All these thoughts swirled through my mind.

I gazed out the window, taking in the morning sun's rays as they cast a golden glow upon the Seine River. I noticed how the sunlight played upon the side of the Louvre pyramid, and how the Eiffel Tower partially obscured the sun's full view.

Then, I found myself forming a highly unpopular and polarizing opinion about that iconic tower. An opinion that might get me canceled from society someday.

In my eyes, the Eiffel Tower was an eyesore—an overhyped and overrated structure that people fantasized about for no good reason. It marred the beauty of Paris, which, in my view, was most enchanting when seen from a high-rise building.

For some inexplicable reason, my brain decided to wage war against the Eiffel Tower.

I spent the entire day in my room, from morning until 6 p.m., engaging in strange, aimless activities throughout the vast, palatial apartment I was staying in. The living room was so enormous and empty that it could have easily accommodated a ballroom dance for twenty people. I was so captivated by the numerous curtains adorning the glass windows that I lost count after reaching the 143rd curtain.

Room service arrived to clean the apartment and was taken aback to find me in an unusually happy and cheerful mood, quite different from my usual grumpy self. Around 3 p.m., after a leisurely lunch, I prepared in the kitchen, I took another shower, my heart racing with anticipation. I contemplated what to wear for the surprise dinner.

In the end, I chose a flowing blue A-line georgette dress that reached down to my ankles, featuring a boat-shaped neckline. I straightened my hair for the occasion. On my feet, I wore pink sandals with thick heels and kept a white jean jacket handy in case the evening turned chilly, as the dress was sleeveless. I finished my look with soft pink makeup, giving myself a gentle and glamorous appearance.

Around 5:50 p.m., the doorbell rang, and I hurried to answer it, finding Sameer waiting on the other side.

My heart leaped with joy at the sight of him, dressed entirely in black. He wore black jeans paired with a black Oxford shirt, and today, he appeared taller than I remembered from yesterday. The moment our eyes met, his eyes lit up, and a half-smile graced his lips. I knew I looked beautiful, and I wanted him to confirm it.

"How do I look?" I asked him eagerly, anticipation filling the air. There was profound admiration in his eyes that slowly turned into a profound sadness. He averted his gaze from me to his shoes.

"Let's go," he invited me, Opening the door, it was clear that he would not answer my question.

I felt devastated. Of course, Sameer knew he was handsome; it was painfully obvious that all the girls wanted his attention. And I had been one of them, making a complete fool of myself. I swore never to seek his opinion of me again.

We left the hotel together. The sun was shining brilliantly, and thankfully, there was no rain in sight.

"Where are we going?" I inquired.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked in return.

"Somewhere fun?" I suggested.

"A nightclub?" he proposed.

"With you? No, thanks! I don't drink," I replied. He seemed offended, but I hadn't come to Paris for nightclub revelry. We had better pubs in our own country.

"There's a children's carnival happening at Jardin d'Acclimatation Park; perhaps you'd like to go there," the driver suggested.

Was he trying to insult me?

"I've never been to a carnival," Sameer mumbled.

"What!" John exclaimed almost in disgust as he sat facing us, with Ju by our side as usual.

"We can go there; I haven't been on one either," I suggested.

"We could also go to Disneyland," John chimed in.

"Not today, not on this trip," I replied, emphasizing that if I were to visit Disneyland in Paris, I would dedicate an entire week to it. I already had plans for a Disneyland trip, but it didn't align with this current journey.

The car came to a halt near a park that had exciting rides, visible from the entrance. Kids were having a blast on those rides.

At the park entrance, vendors were selling cotton candy from their machines. I asked Sameer to get some for us.

"What's that?" Sameer asked, clearly perplexed, while John and Ju appeared horrified. I had had enough of their hesitation, so I bought four cotton candies myself and handed one to each of them. Sameer stood there, looking somewhat like an alien with his cotton candy amid a crowd of kids who were a quarter of his height.

"We're not allowed to eat on duty!" John practically yelled at me.

"Pffft, you're not going to die," I retorted. Sameer appeared confused, more concerned about the pink, fluffy cloud on a cone that was slowly deflating in his hand.

"You've never had one?" I asked him. He shook his head, so I tore off a piece of my own cotton candy and forcefully offered it to him. He didn't have time to resist.

John and Ju were utterly appalled by my actions, their eyes nearly popping out of their heads as Sameer began to chew the fluffy treat.

"My mummy used to make them!" he chewed with astonishment.

"Mami?" Mami means aunt in Bengali. I didn't understand that he meant mummy, not mami.

"My mother. She used to make this when I was a kid," Sameer replied, and I made a troubling discovery from the expression on his face. It seemed that Sameer had forgotten what cotton candy, something his mother used to make for him, even looked like.

Is his mom dead?

Sameer began to eat his cotton candy in silence, and John and Ju, despite their dapper security suits, couldn't even bring themselves to look at him. Their cotton candies had already lost their fluffy allure.

The carnival was filled with children's games, but it wasn't as grand as I had imagined. I had no clue why we were allowed to enter. There were small kiddie rides that I couldn't even properly name since I had zero experience with carnivals. There were some green gardens, greenhouses, and statues, but I wasn't in the mood to visit them now. I just wanted to hang out with Sameer.

So, Sameer and I aimlessly walked together for a minute, and then we wandered over to the shops, hoping to find some entertainment suitable for two "old" people like us to enjoy. Sameer took me to a booth where people were shooting at wooden signs, trying to knock them down. If you managed to shoot down five signs, you would win a big plushie.

"Wanna try this?" Sameer asked me. I shrugged.

"I have zero experience with guns," I admitted, raising an eyebrow at him. He blushed a little. He knew exactly what I meant and shook his head in agreement

The attendant handed me a plastic rifle. As a complete newbie, it was my first time holding such a weapon. I had always imagined I would look badass with a gun, but right now, I knew I just looked silly. I aimed at the signs and took my shots.

I missed all five shots perfectly, much to the delight of the booth attendant. I had effectively wasted 10 euros on this game, and it seemed like nobody was having much luck with these games.

"It's my turn," Sameer said, handing the attendant two 5 euro notes. He looked skeptical, but little did he know, he was about to learn a lesson: never judge Sameer by his sweet, sexy face alone. Sameer took the rifle from my hand and aimed at the targets.

5 seconds.

5 clicks.

5 shots.

My jaw practically hit the ground as Sameer effortlessly knocked down all five targets. He gave me a smug look and said,

"Pick a plushie."

I couldn't quite process what he had just said. I must have looked utterly bewildered, but one thing was clear: he was quick—much quicker than I had anticipated.

"Wait, teach me," I blurted out without giving it much thought.

"What...?" Sameer almost laughed at my request.

"Teach me how to shoot."

"With a plastic toy?"

I shrugged, ignoring Sameer's confusion, and he handed me the rifle. I heard a grunting noise from John in the distance, and Ju looked thoroughly perplexed. But I paid them no mind and aimed the rifle at the target.

Sameer stepped closer, adjusting my posture. He took hold of my wrist, positioning it correctly, and then adjusted my shoulders, pulling them back slightly. He instructed me, "Chin up, close the eye that's on the viewfinder, and keep the other one open; you're supposed to aim with that one."

I followed his guidance.

"Now, shoot!" His voice sent a thrill through my body.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

5 clicks.

All the targets fell down. I was astonished and turned to look at Sameer, who was smiling with evident pride.

"For your first time, you're surprisingly natural. But it's much harder with a real rifle," he said in his deep, resonant voice.

"...The recoil of a rifle can hit your shoulder quite hard, so you need strong cuff muscles, a robust trapezius muscle, and two sets of very sturdy scapulae," Ju chimed in, stepping closer to us with a smile.

I had almost forgotten that Ju was a sniper with military training. I turned to Sameer, who wore a smile filled with astonishment, pride, and admiration. I couldn't tear my gaze away from his eyes. I was so delighted to see the pride on his face.

"Can you teach me?" I asked. His expression changed a bit and his brows furrowed.

"It's going to ruin your soft palms." He whispered.

"My what?"

He held my hand and gently placed my palm against his, his fingers enveloping mine, emphasizing the significant size difference. He watched intently as he brushed the soft pads of my palm with his thumb.

A surge of electricity coursed through me at his touch.

It struck me then that I had allowed him to touch me without feeling repulsed, and this had happened not just once but twice now. I let out a soft gasp under my breath. Every sensation in my body coiled in anticipation, and I felt a slight ache in my heart from what had just transpired.

This had never happened to me before. My body typically recoiled at the touch of a man, but not his.

"There will be calluses here," he remarked while still examining my palm, his thumb tracing those soft pads with tender strokes. Then he gazed at me, his expression contemplative, as if he had something important to say.

Does he.... Does he like me too?

"Monsieur, your bird." The booth attendant offered Sameer a yellow Tweety Bird cartoon plushie, but he didn't break eye contact with me.

There was something in his gaze that made every noise, every sound, and every carnival light in the sky fade away, leaving just the two of us in this universe—much like that night we first met in the library.

At that moment, I felt like I could stand there with him for eternity. He made me feel safe, and I realized that I wasn't repulsed by his touch..I loved the way he touched me.

"We have a reservation for dinner, sir. We can't spend the whole evening standing here. Looking into each other's eyes." Ju added in his ear.

We both snapped out of our trance-like stares, initially leaving Sameer a bit bewildered, but he soon realized what Ju had meant. Ju had effectively grounded us back on Earth's surface, like two people who had been floating in the universe.

Sameer broke our hand connection, and he asked, "Do you like Korean food?" I nodded silently and moved away from his gaze, walking over to where John was browsing the toy rack.

"Choose one," I ordered. John gave me a mortified look, clearly uncomfortable with my request. So, I picked out a large pink flamingo, bigger than a 5-year-old child, and handed it to him.

"It's for Stella. Give it to her," I instructed him. His eyes widened with a mix of amusement and confusion.

Stella was John's newborn baby girl, a fact that Sameer had shared with me. John was supposed to be on vacation, but he had been called back for my security.

Three creases formed in each corner of John's eyes as he smiled, a smile filled with profound gratitude that I cared for his family.

Sameer smiled at me from a distance. I made a mental note to suggest that he give John some time off for a vacation.

----------------------------------

We arrived at a Korean hot-pot restaurant precisely at 7 o'clock. John and Ju didn't enter; they remained on duty at the entrance, keeping an eye on everyone and ready to join us inside if Sameer sent them an SOS call. I couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed that our trip to the carnival had been so short. Sameer seemed to sense this from the look in my eyes, and he said, "We can spend the whole day at the carnival tomorrow if you want." He gently brushed my back with his calloused palms.

The waiter seated us and got us settled.

"In Bangladesh, we celebrate April 14th as our Bengali New Year. On that day, people set up temporary carnivals everywhere, with rallies featuring decorative banners and large masks all around... I used to see them on TV, and in newspapers, and think... Someday, I'll visit these carnivals and eat everything my heart desires... But I never got the chance until now."

A shadow of sadness crossed his eyes as he gazed at me, conveying those emotions without saying a word.

The waiters brought large bowls, filling the air with savory aromas, and a variety of side dishes to our table. Sameer's eyes lit up at the sight of the food arriving.

I had been a bit skeptical when Sameer had been so enthusiastic about dining at a Korean restaurant in a city known for having some of the world's best local cuisine. But when he assured me that I would be enjoying a halal meal that was a hidden gem in the city of Paris, I felt relieved. It became apparent that this was his favorite dining spot.

The servers placed the hotpot and various accompaniments in front of us. There were three types of soup, and Sameer eagerly began adding them to the pot.

"You like Korean food?" I asked him.

He smiled like a puppy and nodded, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Philippine....I got addicted to them when I was in college."

I returned his smile, recognizing that he was allowing me to get to know him better.

"...You have no idea what I did when I was a student. I used to get drunk and get tattoos in Thailand," he chuckled, clearly reminiscing about his wild college days. My curiosity piqued, and I rested my head on my hand, eager to hear more.

"And?" I inquired.

He rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm towards me. I was in the middle of slurping some noodles, but I quickly finished them and leaned in to get a better look.

There it was.

A tattoo.

A tattoo of SpongeBob, his pants were pulled down, and he was showing his wiggly buttocks to the world.

I struggled mightily to contain my laughter but failed miserably, and Sameer joined in with me.

"Why that?" I asked, genuinely curious. How could a grown man end up with a tattoo like that on his forearm?

"...Well, it was my birthday, I was in Thailand, and I was drunk, maybe I smoked some weed too..."

I was taken aback but not upset with him. He was sharing his personal sense of humor with me.

"...My friends took me to a strip club because I was missing my ex-girlfriend, and I was crying for her..."

Wait what! What!

"There was a girl, topless, who danced like she was drunk, and I was too high. I thought she looked like SpongeBob."

"What?" I could only speak. Every single cell of my body was laughing at him.

"... All I remember is that she dropped her pants and showed her ass to me...... My friends told me after I woke up the next day that I got so scared that I was yelling and cussing at her- why SpongeBob was showing his butt at me." He said it with lots of struggle, containing very hard laughter.

I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face at this point, picturing a life-size SpongeBob trying to seduce him.

"...I got drunk the next day with all of them again, and I got the SpongeBob tattoo, also while drunk," he explained, struggling to contain his laughter.

Both of us were laughing heartily and so loudly that we drew the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

"So, you were a wild child?" I asked when we finally caught our breath.

"Dude-I was a spoiled, crazy brat." He explained while wiping his tears.

"You don't look like it."

"You have no idea how wild I was. I have changed 180 degrees since then." He explained. I nodded my head, I believed him.

"So, where did you study?"

"Caltech."

I was shocked, Caltech? California Institute of Technology? Like Caltech?

"Are you serious?"

"Yes!" he protested, gobbling down his noodles with chopsticks.

"What did you study," I asked, as I was skeptical.

"Aeronautics." He casually replied. My jaw hit the floor with his answer.

"Why are you in security, then?" I asked him.

He looked sad,

"Because it was in my fate." He lost his enthusiasm when he said those words.

I sensed that the topic had touched a nerve with him as if he felt hurt that someone who was meant to soar in the sky was now grounded, guarding wealthy billionaires. So, I decided to let it go and change the subject.

"So, you were crying for your ex-girlfriend?" I inquired, wanting to lighten the mood. He chuckled at himself in response.

"I cried for a lot of girls. Every time I had gone through a breakup... Every time I fell in love I felt like –This is it, it's her. Happened every single fucking time with every single girl I have ever dated. I have always been the one who fell hard." He admitted with such caution.

So, he is a hopeless romantic.... Either he was speaking the truth, or it was a trap. A trap to lure me in

I thought.

"Do you have a girlfriend now? A wife perhaps?" I asked carefully.

A cocky gleam of mischief danced behind his eyes and met his lips, a half-smile formed,

"Why would you ask that?" he almost whispered.

"No, I was thinking if you were spending your personal non-work hours with me, so maybe, if you had a girlfriend or wife, she would be so jealous of us hanging out?"

"What made you think I would do something that will make my girl jealous?" he asked with such pride, such cockiness that "my girl" sent a chilled shiver down my spine.

"Sir, have you ever looked at yourself?" I replied with a poker face. A very mischievous grin appeared on his lips.

Shit.

I bit my bottom lip. I shouldn't have told him that I thought he was good-looking. It would give him such control over me.

Shit

"I can also say that about you as well...... Why are you willing to spend so much time with me, Miss Kaya? What if your guy gets jealous of me?"

He asked with pride that my stupidity had just gifted him.

"I am single," I replied.

"I know." He spoke. That cocky grin was there to stay. I raised one of my brows. Dude seriously? Do I look too miserable to date someone?

"How do you know that?"

"Well, if you really had a man, who loved you... he would not have let you roam around free on roads of this city all alone by yourself."

"That's not an indication of me being single." I was confused.

"Well, if I were your man, I would never have let you tour all alone by yourself. Cause I would have missed you terribly and I wouldn't be able to sleep at night thinking about your safety. You have...." Before he could finish a buzzing sound came from somewhere.

My concentration broke as I listened to his hopeless romanticism, which sounded like a trap he was laying down for me. He reached out to his back pocket and picked up his phone. His brows furrowed.

"It's my dad. One second, please." He declared and left for somewhere quiet.

"If I were your man" ......hmmmm. Sir, you can be my man if you want to.

I thought to myself, and I laughed at myself.

There was a thin slice of meat in my bowl that Sameer just cooked in a hotpot and gave me. Looking at this I realized that I was so pissed off this whole Paris tour that I was not even concentrating on what was I eating. But Sameer's presence put some colors in my grey and white Paris trip......

Then I remembered what happened to me on this trip. Today is the 4th day and I got kidnapped on the 2nd day. I was almost raped by two men who then also got their head exploded by someone whom I was having the worst crush on my life. And I was having a Korean hotpot with him while sitting in Paris. Two......sorry 3 men got killed the day before yesterday in front of me. 3. I was so agitated about who my mystery sugar parents were that they gave me this expensive trip, I was so agitated that I almost forgot what happened to me. I was so used to death and gore that I almost forgot that 3 men lost their lives because of me.

"What's wrong?" he asked me. I didn't notice him coming. He sat down in front of me.

"Nothing."

"You looked scared." There was genuine concern and worry in his beautiful, velvety, low-pitched voice.

"No, nothing Don't worry." I put a smile on my face. A genuine cloud of fear and worry graced his eyes. He looked everywhere around me to assess the non-existent danger.

"You want to order something else?" he asked me.

Something else!

"I can't even finish all these."

"Don't waste food." He demanded.

"Yeah... we can take a takeaway?" I asked him. He bobbed his head and smiled at me.

"We can."

Then he dumped the rest of the uncooked proteins and veggies we were supposed to cook into the broth and let it simmer. A beautiful smell erupted from the soup.

Then I realized that the food I had was fucking mind-blowing.