His Yasmina [Completed]

Chapter 33-Time

He stood there watching her from a discreet location one early morning. 

He kept a far distance from her but never too far. He watched her himself at times when she ventured out of the hotel to run errands. Other times, his men watched the hotel or acted like guests in the lobby reporting back directly to him. He had to protect her, keep her safe because he knew he couldn't exist in a world where Yasmina didn't.

The thought scared him. He worried about her.  Keeping her safe from the hazards of the outside world would have to do even if it was in discretion. He may have lost her love but he was determined to keep her safe. At least he had a mission, something to do, something to accomplish.

She was so beautiful, Cristiano thought as Jasmine took the steps to the St. James hotel. Tall and proud, and delicately boned.  Skin as soft as a soft ripening peach. Hair the color of rich honey. Glossy lips dripping with innocence. A figure of an angel. A Michael Angelo masterpiece.

Simply exquisite.

He could have sworn the scent of her preferred perfume—vanilla-lavender, drifted in the air. Light, exotic, and innocent. He inhales sharply and closes his eyes briefly opening them in fear she may disappear, feeling completely helpless. 

It always felt like the first time when he watched over her.  But when he did catch a glimpse, the mere sight of her instantly calmed him.  It was the balm he'd been searching for.   She always was.  She was the warmth and joy he was missing.  No matter how many times he warned himself she was better without him interrupting her life, he couldn't help himself.   He always had to see her, even if it was from afar. 

However, especially today, there was a lost air about her, appearing almost childlike and wounded. It broke his heart as he saw her stumble on a step.

Instinctively, Cristiano moved from the shadows having the urge to help her. But when she turned, he stopped in his tracks, stiffening. Had she sensed him? Her mouth parted as she took a startled step back as she regained her balance, darting her gaze right then left frantically. She rushed into the hotel and bumped into a man in uniform who catches her before she falls once more. 

The young man holds her by the arms and assists her on her feet.  Startled, Jasmine pushes him away from her appearing ready to fight.  It was the spectacle of her distress that drove Cristiano into action, ready to intervene.  However, she instantly recognizes the man, her shoulders sagging in relief. She looked flustered yet smiles, as they exchange words.  He took note of the way the male's hands rested briefly, yet comfortably, with a ease, on her arms before he snatched them back, blushing profusely and muttering apologies.  

Cristiano sighed in relief, comprehension flickering on his face–he was one of her employees.  He inches back into the shadows, adjusts the winter hat on his head and jams his hands in his jacket pockets.  With his head bowed, he discreetly blends into the crowds of people milling around the lobby. 

The smile she sends her rest of her employees was as bright as the sun–blinding, scorching, beautiful. He wished that smile was for him. He'd captured it discreetly on countess occasions when he spied on her.  Every smile, every expression she'd ever had, every hairstyle her silk hair was arranged in. . . He imaged if could be near her, smell her, bask in the peace she emitted.

Those eyes of hers were his weakness.  Lucid and sweet.  The color of a stormy thunderstorm.  Eyes that haunted his dreams during the night and occupied his thoughts during a thunderous rumble rolling across the sky.  No other female ever compared to her.  Not even close.  And no other will hold his attention or a place in his black heart for the rest of his miserable life.