Dangerous Love

Chapter Nine

After what feels like an eternity, I slowly open my eyes and see Mr. Stevens in the same position as before. "Where did this blanket come from?" I ask myself. "Miss Morgan, are you feeling better?" "Yes, thank you for letting me sleep a little." He nods briefly, followed by the question: "Would you like something to drink, water or juice?" "Yes, that would be nice." He then calls a flight attendant and orders an orange juice. "Please, Miss." "Morgan," adds the blonde flight attendant, who smiles shyly at him. "Oh yes, where are we flying to?" "To Seattle," he answers. "Seattle?" I repeat, surprised. "Yes, exactly." "Oh wow, I can hardly believe it! I'm flying to Seattle!" I think to myself excitedly. I would have loved to jump up for joy. "How long are we flying for?" I ask, beaming. "About half an hour left." "Wow, only!" I answer. "Miss Morgan, are you excited?" he asks. "Yes, I really am very excited!" "But remember, we are here to work, not to go on holiday." "Of course," I murmur.

 As soon as the plane has landed safely, the pilots leave the cockpit and say goodbye to him. It is impressive how much respect he is shown. After we have descended the stairs and walked a little way straight ahead, two black Mercedes-Benz GLE 400 Coupés are already there. Next to them are six men in dark clothing and sunglasses. I can hardly imagine that they are all chauffeurs. As we stop in front of the vehicles, Mr. Stevens opens the rear door on the right: "Miss Morgan, please get in!" "Thank you very much." As I take my seat, I notice that two men are already sitting in the vehicle. That means there are already eight people here. "Why are there so many here?" I ask myself. "What are all these men doing here?" I ask in astonishment. "Calm down, Miss Morgan, they're here to protect us." "Oh, now I understand, they're bodyguards." "We're going to the Four Seasons," says Mr. Stevens. "Have you already looked at the contract?" he asks. "How am I supposed to do that, I'm sitting here with you right now, without a cell phone or anything else," I think to myself.

 I just give him a quick nod in response and lean against the window pane while I admire the impressive city architecture. After just half an hour we reach the hotel. Immediately one of the powerfully built men jumps up and opens the car door for Mr. Stevens. Incredible, even he enjoys this respect! I shake my head slightly, because when someone tries to hold the door open for me, I'm faster and get out alone. I turn to the hotel and am impressed. It's simply gigantically high and built of glass with steel beams. How many windows are there here? It's hard to estimate! Meanwhile, Mr. Stevens has already reached the impressive glass door. "Aren't you coming any closer?" he calls and I hurry after him. Two doormen open the entrance door for us. Wow, when I take the first step, I find myself in a modern foyer with gray marble tiles and a fantastically bright ceiling that is equipped with LED spotlights and sparkles like a starry sky. To my right is an L-shaped brown leather couch with two small round tables and behind it there even seems to be a fireplace burning - and that in summer! Mr. Stevens strides majestically to the reception, where the two ladies bow to him. Oh dear, I really feel uncomfortable here. Even older women are watching him intently.

 I shrug my shoulders. "Welcome to the Four Seasons," says one of the ladies. "We have already prepared everything for your stay. Please, I will show you the way," explains the brunette lady, who appears to be in her 40s. I follow her slowly and let my gaze wander over the impressive hotel. Who can afford something like that? I ask myself, imagining that I will probably never have the opportunity to come here. When I arrive at the elevator, I notice two hotel employees behind me carrying our luggage. It takes a moment for the elevator doors to open. Mr. Stevens enters first and the lady positions herself right next to him, without taking her eyes off him. Oh dear, she's going to faint; if only she knew what he's really like, I think as I forget to get in. "Please!" he says, just holding the elevator doors open. "Oh, thank you, sir," I reply embarrassedly as the doors close and the lady presses the button for the 15th floor. Phew, I'm hot! Why am I so nervous? Is that normal? It seems like the ride takes forever, but finally the elevator opens. As expected, he is the first to step out. The lady meekly leads the way and we stop in front of a brown door.