Page 1 of Loving Leila
Chapter 1
Leila
Iswear I’ve studied every detail in this dining room like it’s my job simply to hang onto my sanity. The deep-red drapes, still open so we can appreciate the gorgeous sunset. Round tables, pristine-white tablecloths covered in an array of cutlery and drinking glasses. I’ve even counted the squares on the plush, patterned carpet beneath my feet. Nothing is helping.
If this man doesn’t stop talking, there’s a high likelihood I’m going to need bail money. I’ve yet to figure out why he’s even with us on this cruise. As our CFO, Edgar Mason doesn’t usually accompany the team on incentive trips.
Do they even have holding cells onboard?
I’m so bored I’m sure my eyes must be glazed over like I’m on drugs. Not that I’d know since I don’t do drugs. God, what I wouldn’t give. And it’s not like I can get a word in or talk to anyone else at the table either since he’s monopolizing everyone’s attention as he drones on. Unable to take another word, I excuse myself. Maybe I can hide out in the ladies’ restroom until this godawful dinner is over.
I swear I see envy in the eyes of the sales rep directly opposite me as I rise to my feet. Sorry, buddy, you should have thought of it first then. The men at the table all stand, except for Edgar, his beady little accountant eyes glaring daggers at me across the table. Yeah, Edgar, you can glare all you like. I’m outta here.
I hurry away, intent on making good on my escape, terrified the fiend will think of some reason to prevent me from leaving. As I close the powder room door behind me, I can’t prevent the huge sigh of relief. Blessed silence surrounds me. It seems for the moment I have the facilities to myself.
Pushing away from the door, I take in my opulent surroundings. The bathroom is beautifully appointed, decadent marble counters holding an array of makeup and fragrances. There’s even carpet in here, although it seems the stalls are tiled in the same luxurious marble as the counters. There’s a large bank of windows framing an incredible view of the ocean. The view of the setting sun as it blazes a trail of glorious color across the sky dropping toward the horizon is even more visible here than in the dining room.
And best of all? There’s a sofa nestled up against the windows. Apparently, the universe was listening. I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor suckers stuck at the table with Gasbag Mason as I settle onto the plush cushions. I wonder how long it’ll take them to miss me.
Pulling my cellphone out, I figure I can waste a few minutes scrolling social media. See what everyone’s up to. There’s been so much going on the last few months with a new project at work and now this cruise I feel like it’s been an age since I last spent any quality time with friends and family.
As I’m checking out photos of my sister’s new puppy back home in South Africa, I hear a loud bang. What the hell is that? Surely it’s not – no, it can’t be. I shake my head, sure I’m imagining things. But then I hear it again.
Is that … gunfire?
Jumping up from the sofa, I dash over to the door intending on having a look-see. As I reach the wooden portal, I can hear more clearly. And what I’m hearing is a lot of panicked screaming and foreign voices shouting. I shrink back from the door, wildly searching the room for somewhere to hide.
Neither the toilet stalls nor that comfy sofa offer safe haven. I need somewhere secure to hide. Scanning the room, my eyes land on a possibility. As quickly and quietly as I can, I cross back to a floor-to-ceiling mirror off to the side of the bank of windows.
Maybe there’s a gap behind it I can hide in. When I reach it, I find it flush up against the wall. Disappointment rocks me back on my heels. I lean back against the glass and survey the room again, my heart beating like someone’s using it to play drums.
Stay calm, Leila. Keep it together. Panicking is not an option.
I push away from the mirror to search the room more thoroughly when I hear an almost inaudible click. Swinging around once more, I’m stunned to find the mirror is actually a door. To what I have no idea, but I’m about to find out.
I ease the door open and find a cupboard space with nothing more than a “Caution, floor wet” sign and some toilet rolls and hand towels neatly stowed in it. I’m for sure small enough to fit in the space and waste no time doing exactly that.
It’s no easy feat getting the handle-less door shut, but I manage it somehow. It’s dark in the cupboard now the door is closed. Feeling around in my purse, I take my phone out again for a little light.
Shit. My phone. Maybe I can call someone for help. I scroll to my best friend’s number back in Seattle and hit the call icon. Nothing. I end the call and try again with the same results. Damn it. Now’s not a good time to have no signal.
I’m just about to throw my phone back into my purse in disgust when it strikes me I should probably put it on silent. In case the signal comes back. My hiding place is going to be pointless if they find me because my cell picked an inopportune time to reconnect to the network and make a noise. I take note of how much battery power I have as I turn the ringer off.
Who knows how long I’m going to be stuck in this tiny closet? In the dark. At the thought, I breathe harder.Calm. Happy thoughts. Puppies. Unicorns.I chant the refrain over and over in my head. My breathing has only just started to slow when I think I hear a sound in the room beyond, and it speeds right back up.
Oh God, please don’t let them find me.Calm. Happy thoughts. Puppies. Unicorns.The litany plays once again on repeat in my head.
Another noise sounds even closer, and I swear my heart is about to explode. I can feel the hysteria bubbling within me and bite my lip, hard, in an attempt to stay as quiet as I possibly can. I barely dare to breathe at all now.
I jerk in fright as the outer door bursts open and a man speaks rapidly. I can’t understand a word he says, but whomever he’s talking to is clearly the person I heard moving around. When the second person, also a man, answers, it’s from the other side of the mirrored door.
In that moment, I can one-hundred percent understand why some people soil themselves when they’re frightened. Because, sweet Mother of Mercy, I almost pee my pants right there.
I have no idea what the two men are loudly discussing but could cry with relief as I hear them leave the room and the door closes behind them, plunging the room back into silence. I wait for a bit to see if they come back before sinking to the floor of the cupboard, my shaking legs about to give out.
I have no idea how much time passes as I sit in the cramped, dark space, listening for any sound, trying not to make any myself. But I must doze off at some point because I suddenly jolt back to consciousness. I have no idea what woke me, but I strain to hear any noise. Nothing.
Then I quit breathing as the only barrier between me and the outside world slowly begins to swing open.
