Delia
* * *
The tinny voice of the flight attendant crackled to life at the airport’s terminal. Delia’s father muttered something under his breath, but Delia’s eyes were trained on her phone’s screen.
A reply from one of her most recent applications as a publicist for a well-to-do law firm popped up. She exhaled shakily. It’d been two entire months since they had fired her, and she really, really wanted a new job to fill her empty days.
“Delia, we’re next,” her father prompted, tugging on the end of her braid.
Delia’s eyes dragged up from her screen, and she stood up automatically. She tugged along her luggage as she finally opened the email.
We regret to inform you…
Delia locked her phone and shook her head. “What is wrong with me?” It was a rhetorical question, but her father wasn’t going to let that one go.
“Nothing. Anyone would be lucky to have you as an employee.”
Delia didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know her father was beaming at her, his gaze full of pride and the typical crooked smile on his lips. She rolled her eyes, wondering why, if that was true, was she jobless still? He was always so sure of her, but why didn’t she feel the same way?
With a sigh, she twisted to look at him. There it was, just as she expected. The look of a proud, beaming father.
“What would make you happy, kamari mou?”
His pride. Oh, to have it be founded.
Delia handed over her ticket and identification, musing over the question. “I mean, I’m not not happy. I’ve just had a rough few months… and it’s hard coming up for air when more crap is just hurled on top.” She visualized drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, pawing at the water for purchase, only for a giant wave to crash down on her, pushing her deeper into the bottomless sea.
They moved onto the plane and found their seats.
Delia’s father pressed his lips together, brows pinching like they usually did when he was in deep thought. “Whatever it is in life that will give you joy, that’s what I wish for you. Whether it’s a dream job, a wonderful partner, or sitting with your old man on Psarou Beach.”
Shoving her carry-on into the compartment above, she laughed. “I’ll take the last over everything else. What better way to spend my days than with my ass in the sand with my dad?”
Her father chuckled and settled against the seat. His tan hand patted Delia’s knee. “You know the way to my heart.”
Delia smiled and put her earbuds in, settling in for a long flight from Miami to Istanbul. In around twelve hours’ time, she’d be in one of her favorite places, and reality would seem like a distant dream.
* * *
Apparently, Delia had needed sleep. She didn’t wake until the tires hit the tarmac, and the pilot’s heavy use of the brake jarred her against the plane’s window. She frowned as the soft tendrils of a deep and wonderful sleep left her.
Where was she?
She wiped the sleep from her eyes, faintly recalling the dream she’d left behind. A tanned man’s torso bare before her. The glint of intelligent and playful hazel eyes. The flash of a golden arrow.
“One thing I neglected to tell you before you started snoring is that we’re staying at the Çırağan Palace. There were no rooms available at our usual spot. I guess they’re renovating, which decreases their capacity.” He shrugged. “I hope we’ll make fresh memories at Çırağan.”
Delia laughed. The way her father spoke about Çırağan, it was as if it were subpar, but it was one of the most eye-pleasing buildings she’d ever seen. On the shore of the Bosporus, it boasted a grand view of the water. But it wasn’t just that; it had once been an Ottoman Palace, and still looked very much like one. Outside, several pillars appeared to hold the weathered ivory stone up, and while the carved stone with its embellished accents were lovely, the inside was breathtaking.
“Dad, I’m going to love the Çırağan. I’ve wanted to stay there before.” When it was their turn, she stood up and grabbed her carry-on. “I’m actually really looking forward to this.” The inside of that hotel was enough to squeal over. Marble floors, walls, and bathrooms. Chandeliers and spiral staircases. Beautiful artwork on the ceilings… She’d be staying in a palace instead of a cold, contemporary luxury hotel.
Her father’s expression softened as he bent to kiss her head. “I’m glad. We’ll have to leave earlier, since we won’t be as close to Selçuk as usual.”
Selçuk was a five-hour trip in a rental car, or double that via bus. Delia wanted no part of a ten-hour bus trip after traveling for half a day in a plane.
Once they disembarked, the smells of the airport taunted her. Spiced meats, buttery pastries… Food. She desperately needed food, and the restaurants down the corridor called to Delia like a siren’s lethal song. At least eating wouldn’t be her demise. Hopefully.
“Let’s grab something to eat since I screwed myself by sleeping on the plane.” It was already five o’clock in the evening, which meant she should be winding down shortly, but after sleeping for twelve hours, all she wanted to do was buzz around.
Her father nodded. “It’s a date… after our luggage arrives.”
Delia whined. “There are plenty of places in Greece that wouldn’t mind our lack of clothing. Or in the very least, my lack of clothing.”
“I wouldn’t appreciate it. At all. Besides, we’re in Istanbul.” Her father’s bushy brows slanted inward, the stern expression marring his handsome face.
“Well, luckily, my body isn’t meant for you, it’s meant for someone else. And we’ll be heading to Greece after Turkey. Still time to hit those nude beaches.” She winked at him, laughing as he grunted.
* * *
On arrival at Çırağan Palace, Delia slid from the cab and froze. Before her, gold light illuminated the structure, giving the building a heavenly glow. Shadows created by the light added depth to the pillars and carved stone. It didn’t matter how many pictures Delia took; they could never do the building justice.
Despite that, she took out her phone and snapped several pictures of the landscaping, the beautifully lit pillars, the Bosphorus Strait.
Honestly, she’d seen nothing so beautiful in her life.
“Come here.” She motioned to her father and leaned in close to him, capturing a selfie in front of the building.
He brushed a kiss to her temple, then moved to gather their luggage from the trunk.
Unlike Delia, her father had bags under his eyes, and the weight of jet lag settled on his shoulders heavily; she could tell he was exhausted. She grabbed her suitcase from him, and together they made it inside.
“Dad, you should head to the room. I’m not going to be sleeping any time soon.” He shot her a dubious look. “I’ll be fine.” Motioning to the breathtaking view of the marble interior, she laughed. “Do you see this? I can’t possibly go to our room before taking at least a fraction of this in.”
“All right. Leave your suitcase here, and your carry-on. I’ll get a key for you.”
He ventured to the desk to speak to guest services. Meanwhile, Delia spun around, glancing up at the ceiling. Golds, soft browns, and ivory came to life beneath the candlelit bulbs.
She’d spent a good portion of her time overseas in luxurious hotels, but this one by far took the cake.
What would it have been like to live in this place when it was a palace? Oh, she knew. Delia knew all the history surrounding Turkey and Greece, having grown up listening to it and reading about it. But to truly live in such a time when the gods—whether or not they were real—supposedly walked among them in disguise; wouldn’t that have been something?
Despite everything that had happened lately, happiness swelled within. The sound of a piano’s notes echoed off the marble walls and flooring. It took Delia a moment to realize it was “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.
Ugh, this song. It was so perfect, as was this place.
A tap on the shoulder brought her back to
reality, and Delia twirled to face her father. “Have you seen this place?” She gaped in awe at the complete craftsmanship of the inside.
Her father chuckled. “I know, but wait until you see the view from our room. On one of my trips with your mother, we stayed in the same room I booked for us. Ah, she loved it. I haven’t been here since.” He frowned, making it clear he was thinking of his wife and the time they shared in the hotel. “When they said the rooms were all booked up in Izmir, this was the second place I thought of. So many memories… I thought you’d enjoy spending time in a place your mother loved so much.” His eyes glazed over as, Delia assumed, he took a trip down memory lane. “Anyway, here is your room key. We’re in the Pasha Presidential Suite. Don’t stay up too late, or you’ll really screw with your sleep schedule.” He winked, then turned down to the elevators, disappearing moments later.
Drawn back outside, Delia walked along the concrete path. Winding around the garden to the pool, then toward the sunbathing deck. She pressed herself against the stone railing and marveled at how close she was to the Bosphorus. Waves lapped against the stone wall as a ferry hummed along the strait, but the sound of a man on the loudspeaker ruined the otherwise peaceful setting. Still, Delia couldn’t believe it was right there. More than that, the glow from the hotel cast a warmth into the sky and onto the strait, turning it a deep, gem-like blue.
Tomorrow would begin the road to recovery. An entire month to heal the wounds of her breakup and the loss of her job. All she needed was rest, relaxation, and a little distraction. As far as distractions went, Delia thought this was a good place to start. With so much beauty surrounding her, how could she be miserable?
No, she wouldn’t invite that question to linger, because she knew the answer. Easily, easily. Anything could turn to ash in an instant.
“Enjoy your time, Delia,” she murmured to herself. “There is a season for everything, right? Well, I’m deciding it’s the season of healing.” A breeze spun off the water, pimpling her skin with goosebumps. “And also time to go back inside.”
A little more exploring, a little more walking around, and then maybe it would be time to settle down with a book.
Delia
* * *
The next morning, the bright tendrils of the sun awakened Delia. She’d forgotten to close the drapes, and her bed faced the rising sun. Groaning, she slid from bed and explored the suite, made herself a cup of coffee, then ventured out onto her room’s balcony.
“Ah! You were right.” Delia took a breath of the fresh air. She flicked her dark gaze over to her father, drinking tea on his own balcony, and grinned.
“Did you even look at the suite?” He shook his head, chuckling.
Delia ducked back inside the room and walked around to her father’s balcony. “I did! Now I’m tempted to leap into the water. I’m part mermaid after all.”
He turned his head as she entered. Something flickered in her father’s eyes, as if he were reliving a memory again, then he shook his head. “No. Not a mermaid. I think you once declared yourself ‘Helen of West Palm Beach.’”
“I thought it was a pretty name, and the idea of Helen of Troy fascinated me when I was little. Not now. Besides, I prefer to think of myself as a mermaid. If Ariel can get legs, I can get fins, right?” She wrinkled her nose up, laughing. “You don’t know what’s in store for me.”
“And if I did, perhaps I wouldn’t tell you. It’s never wise to know about your future.”
What would happen if one knew too much about their future? Would that alter it? If her father had known how little time he’d have with his wife, would he have chosen a different life partner? Would Delia exist? It was a labyrinth of questions, and she supposed each decision led a person down a different line of fate.
Delia popped her lips together. “Fine. We have to be out the door in five minutes. Our rental car was delivered a half hour ago according to the alert on my phone, and we’ve got at least a five-hour drive ahead of us. Our tour starts at one, so we should have more than enough time.”
Peering over his mug, her father inclined his head. “I’ll be ready, don’t you worry.”
In five minutes, as promised, her father was ready. Dressed in his casual khakis and polo shirt, he looked comfortable. Sometimes Delia forgot what he looked like outside of his business suits.
Since Delia had learned her lesson a few years ago, she wore a pair of sneakers instead of flats. It was all about being casual with the amount of walking they were going to do. She wore a white button-up blouse and a pair of navy-striped high-waisted shorts.
The sun felt like a warm blanket against her skin. She’d take that over Florida’s humid heat any day. At least she could breathe without feeling as if she were suffocating. Putting her sunglasses on her head, Delia flicked her braid over her shoulder and motioned for her father to lead the way out of the room.
Downstairs and outside of the lobby, the car waited in the valet area.
Clucking her tongue, Delia ticked things off on her fingers. “Purse, phone, wallet… Am I missing anything?” She glanced up, looking around. “Dad? I’m missing Dad.” Her brows pinched together as she scanned the immediate area, only to find him at the gateway to the property.
He waved from a distance and jogged toward the car. “Sorry. Just taking pictures.”
“I could’ve left without you.” She grinned, slipping into the silver SUV’s driver seat. “Get some tunes on, we’re kicking off this trip with a soundtrack.” Slipping her sunglasses down, she pulled out of the parking lot and settled in. Surprisingly—or not so surprisingly—her father picked a pop station. The tune was catchy, but the singer’s high-pitched tone grated on her nerves. He was no Usher.
* * *
After several traffic jams and necessary pit stops, they arrived at the Selçuk Museum where the tour bus waited… or should have been waiting.
“Shit! No, no, no…” She turned the SUV off and scrambled for her belongings. Her father snored in his seat, drooling onto his lap. It was likely the only reason she’d gotten away with swearing, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he woke up now and chastised her for it.
“Dad, we’re here, and we have to hurry.”
He slurped the drool up with a snort, which resulted in a hacking cough. “I’m all right, I’m all right.”
Heart pounding in her chest, Delia bolted from the vehicle. “I’m going to see if we can grab another bus.” Good thing I remembered my running shoes. As she ran inside the air-conditioned building, she collided with a body with enough force that they both rocked back. But strong hands held Delia in place, then steadied both of them.
“Whoa.” A pair of luminous hazel eyes blinked down at her, squinting with barely restrained laughter. He said something in what was probably Turkish, because definitely it wasn’t Greek; Delia would’ve understood him if it was.
Pushing the sunglasses up, she took a moment too long to drink in his features. Dark olive skin and inky black hair that contrasted with those ridiculously beautiful eyes. Lashes that long had no business on a man, especially this man. Color rushed into her tan cheeks, and she at least had the decency to look abashed.
She tried speaking in English. Most of the museum workers spoke it well, considering it was one of the highlighted tourist spots. Delia pegged him for an employee due to the name tag on his sports jacket that read Conner. “I’m sorry. We missed the tour bus.” She groaned. “It’s important. I go on this trip every year with my dad, and it’s really cheesy, maybe, but I look forward to it.”
He lifted his brows in surprise, then his lips pressed together. Was he annoyed, or getting ready to tell her to get lost? But then a smile broke out on his face, and he held up a finger. The young man jogged to the counter and leaned over, tugging out a keychain. He said something to another museum employee, then returned to Delia.
“I have a solution for you: your own tour guide. Where’s your ticket?” He nodded to her hands.
“Oh! Yes.” Del
ia pulled her phone out and opened the email with their tickets. “Here.” She glanced up at him, daring another look as he peered down.
He plucked his phone from his pocket and scanned the QR code. “Very nice, Delia, is it? Now I don’t have to escort you from the premises.” It was difficult to discern if he was joking or not, but it didn’t matter because in the next moment, his head dipped. “My name is Conner Velis,” he said with a voice as smooth and sweet as honey, then he swept into a bow. “Your chariot awaits you. Or, at the very least, a moderately clean sedan with air conditioning.”
Delia laughed. “Hey, that’s more than some can say…” Conner’s gaze focused over her shoulder, forcing Delia to spin around to face her dad as he walked into the museum. “Okay, so we totally missed the bus, but Conner is going to drive us.” She lifted her eyebrows as she stared at her father, willing him to tear his eyes away from Conner. But he didn’t.
Her father’s face shifted from surprised to dubious. “Can I see a form of identification?”
Conner chuckled, pulling his lanyard up from under his shirt. “Good thinking, Dad. I’m one of the tour guides here at the Ephesus Archaeological Museum. I should be on lunch, but I can make an exception for a private tour. Since I don’t want to be the one responsible for breaking tradition.”
Delia tugged on the back of her father’s shirt as he leaned in to inspect the ID. “Okay. Are you going to ask for the manager too?”
“Unfortunately, you can’t be too careful.” Her father frowned at her and stepped back.
“I agree, but a private tour sounds wonderful.” Plus, in Delia’s opinion, the guy was gorgeous. “Thank you, Conner, that sounds perfect.”
Conner slid his phone into his back pocket and fiddled with his keys as he waited for them to decide whether or not they’d take him up on his offer.
Apple of Fate Page 2