Thor gave me a lingering kiss. “You make it hard to leave.”
I planted my hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. “You’ll be careful?”
“I will. That goes double for you.”
“I promise.”
He stepped onto the veranda and disappeared into the dawn.
I retreated to the bathroom, where I spent extra time on my hair and make-up. Satisfied with my face, I donned a sundress and espadrilles. Then, with nothing left to do, I picked up the phone in the bedroom. “Would you please send up some coffee?”
“Right away, Miss Fields.”
“Thank you.” I hung up the phone and fussed with the pillows on the bed.
Yip. You look nice. Why the extra effort?
“I plan on posting on social media.” Giving my followers my location meant it would be harder for me to disappear.
Careful to close the bedroom door behind me, I strolled into the living room and waited by the doors to the veranda.
Tap, tap.
“Come in,” I called.
Yusuf opened the door. “You ordered coffee, Miss Fields?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I glanced at my phone. “I’m meeting a friend for breakfast. Would you please ask someone to have the car ready at eight?”
“My pleasure.”
“Also, Mr. Stone is exhausted. Please do not disturb him.” I’d stuffed a line of pillows under the comforter. If anyone opened the bedroom door (and didn’t look too closely), they might believe Thor still slept.
“Yes, miss.” He wheeled in a cart. “May I pour?” The man hadn’t brought a coffee mug or a carafe. He’d brought a silver coffee service.
“Please.”
“Cream or sugar?”
“Cream.”
He poured heaven into a delicate porcelain cup and brought it to me.
“Thank you. Consuela needs a walk before I leave. Which direction would you suggest?”
“We have a beautiful garden.”
Undoubtedly. But I needed another hotel where I could catch a cab.
“Will there be anything else?”
“Not right now.”
Yusuf bowed his head and backed out of the room. “The car will be waiting for you at eight.”
“Thank you.” I’d already slipped a credit card and a wad of cash into my dress pocket. By eight, I’d be in a taxi on my way to the Sultanahmet.
I finished my utterly delicious coffee, then Consuela and I exited our hotel and strolled toward the hotel next door, another palace, almost as grand as the one Yurgi chose for us.
The bellman happily called a taxi for me, and I gave him Mirac’s address.
“Your first time in Istanbul?” The cabbie asked.
“Yes. It’s beautiful.”
“You stay long?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You travel alone?”
Yip. That’s a creepy question.
“No. I’m traveling with friends. They wanted to hear the dawn call to prayer from the Hagia Sofia and got an early start. They’re expecting me for breakfast.”
The cabbie nodded, then cut off a man on a motor scooter.
I looked through the rear window. The man shook his fist at us, and I waved an apology.
The unconcerned cabbie bobbed and weaved through morning traffic.
Using the map on my cell, I made sure we were headed in the right direction.
When we were within a block of the restaurant, the cabbie pulled to the curb. “I can go no further. No cars allowed.”
I paid him, and Consuela and I stepped onto the pavement.
Women wearing headscarves and shapeless dresses crowded the sidewalk. They shared space with women chic enough to be on the Champs-Élysées and men who talked loudly into their cells.
Consuela and I meandered toward the restaurant, taking time to peer down a crooked alley and skirt the line outside a coffee shop. We paused in front of a store that sold both carpets and jewelry and eyed a street vendor selling food I couldn’t identify.
Yip! Watch it!
A man on his phone had nearly stepped on Consuela’s tail.
I gathered an angry Chihuahua in my arms.
Yip. Let me at him.
“Cool it sister. We’re here.” I opened a glass door and climbed a set of stairs.
The maître d’ posted at the top of the steps took one look at Consuela and shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss. No dogs.”
That was a problem. “She won’t bother anyone.”
“There are rules. Health rules. You understand.”
“But I’m meeting Mr. Cho. I know I’m early, but there’s no time to take her back to the hotel.”
The man tugged at his collar. “You’re Mr. Cho’s guest?”
“I am.” I offered him a megawatt please-please-let-us-in smile.
“We will make an exception. Once. For Mr. Cho.”
“Thank you.”
“This way.” He led me to a terrace with a view of the Hagia Sofia, the Blue Mosque, and the water. Planters filled with pink geraniums separated tables covered with white linen cloths. Mr. Cho’s table, which was set for two, had extra room around it, as if the restaurant had removed three or four tables to give him extra privacy.
The maître d’ pulled out a chair for me, and I sat.
“Tea?”
“Coffee, if you have it.”
“Of course.”
When he left us, I put Consuela down. “Be good.”
She sat. A perfect lady, ready for her breakfast with a billionaire.
I scanned the terrace. Where was Thor?
I couldn’t search for him without being obvious. Instead, I handed a passing busboy my phone and asked him to take my picture. It was a good one. The sun cast a halo around my hair and there was a mosque in the background.
“Thank you.” I uploaded the pic to social media with the hashtags #breakfastinIstanbul #miracs. Then I resumed my seat and tried not to look for Thor.
The minutes ticked by slowly, and I passed the time reading the comments on my post.
When I looked up, an older man wearing a bespoke suit and a Hermès tie stood next to the table.
I glanced at his wrist and spotted a Patek Phillipe match. “Mr. Cho?”
He bowed slightly. “Miss Fields?”
Yurgi’s friend had steel gray hair, sharp brown eyes, and a tight smile.
I put the phone in my pocket, stood, and extended my palm. “It’s nice to meet you.”
We shook hands, and I resumed my seat.
He took the chair across from me.
“Your coffee.” A waiter put a cup and a French press on the table in front of me. “For you, sir?”
“Tea.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Turkish people drink tea in the morning and coffee in the afternoon.”
I offered him an apologetic smile, as if preferring morning coffee was somehow wrong. “I’m not much of a tea drinker.”
“You’ll allow me to order us a traditional Turkish breakfast.”
“Sounds delicious,” I replied.
Yip. So, no bacon?
His gaze dropped to the deck, and his brows lifted to his hairline. “You brought a dog?”
“This is Consuela. She goes everywhere with me.”
His answering smile looked forced. “I see.” He shifted his gaze to the view. “How do you find Istanbul?”
“I only arrived yesterday, but the city is beautiful.” I waved in the general direction of the mosques and the Bosphorus.
“It is a city filled with history.” He pointed at one of the mosques. “The Hagia Sofia was built as a Greek Orthodox church. It operated as such from 360 A.D. until the Ottoman Turks took Constantinople in 1453. Then, it served as a mosque for another five-hundred years. In 1935, it became a museum. It is only recently that it has again become a mosque.”
“And the Blue Mosque?” I shifted in my chair so I had a view of the other mosque. “Why is it called that? It isn’t blue.”
“The Blue Mosque was built around 1600. It takes its name from the blue Iznik tiles used in the interior.”
“Iznik?”
“Tile produced in a town in Anatolia.” He served up a patronizing smile. “You’re sure you don’t have time for a tour? They’re quite edifying.”
Edifying? “Not today.”
“A pity. Just beyond the Hagia Sofia is the Topkapi palace. It served as the main residence of the sultans until the 17th century. It is an enormous complex. The harem alone has three hundred rooms, many of which are decorated with Iznik tiles. The women lived in splendor.”
“Fascinating.” The women who’d lived there had traded freedom for safety. More likely, someone had traded it for them. No matter how beautiful, a harem didn’t sit well with me.
He hadn’t brought me here for a history lesson, and I doubted he had any interest in my feminist leanings.
This was going to be a long breakfast.
The waiter served Cho his tea.
Cho nodded his thanks and adjusted his tie. “A full breakfast for both of us.”
“Yes, sir.”
When the waiter left us, he steepled his fingers. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to join me today.”
“I’m wondering how you knew I was in Turkey and how you found my hotel?”
“A friend of mine—of Yurgi’s—called and told me you were a guest in his home. As to the hotel? It is Yurgi’s favorite. Where else would his stepdaughter stay?”
“I see.” I didn’t. How had Cho learned I was in Istanbul? “Why did you ask me to join you?”
“I heard you took possession of something for Yurgi.”
I nodded and did my best to keep my expression blank.
“You picked it up from our friend, Kostas Dimitriou?”
“That’s right. In Athens. He has an amazing view of the Parthenon. If I were into history, I’d be obsessed.” I shrugged. “Although this is nice, too.”
Cho winced, as if my words pained him. “Do you still have the item?”
“No. It was stolen.”
He sat back in his chair.
“By Mr. Köse.”
He stared at me.
The waiter put a pan of suçuk yumurta on the table, then added pastries filled with spinach, bowls of olives, bread, tapenade, a variety of jams, French fries, halva, and a cheese platter. “The kasseri is particularly good, Mr. Cho.”
Cho managed a weak smile. “I come here whenever I’m in Istanbul. They know my favorites.”
“Kasseri?” I asked.
“A sheep’s milk cheese with a salty flavor and a sweet aftertaste.”
Yip. No bacon?
Mr. Cho’s expression turned from pleasant to pained.
“You don’t like dogs?” I didn’t trust people who didn’t like dogs.
“I prefer cats.” He waved at the feast spread in front of us. “Please, help yourself.”
I put a fried egg and some sausage on my plate, then added a pastry.
“You were saying that Köse stole the item.”
I shrugged. “The box. Of course, I didn’t know he stole it, and I called Yurgi about the theft. I felt absolutely awful.” I widened my eyes at the remembered regret. “When Mr. Köse invited me to his home, I discovered he had it.” Oops. Had Köse told Cho he kidnapped me? If so, my ditsy-girl jig was up. I searched his face and found no hint as to what I should say next.
“Did you look inside?”
“The box?” Wide-eyed innocence. That’s what I needed. “There’s a lock.”
“Yurgi didn’t give you the code?”
I shook my head. Wait. A shake could be construed as a yes. “No code. Just the box. I picked it up as a favor to Yurgi. Because he was on his honeymoon with my mother. I have no idea why so many people are interested. It’s just a boring old box.” Did Cho believe me? Did he believe I was that brainless?
“You left Köse’s home suddenly.”
“Yes. I’m traveling with a friend who wasn’t invited.”
“A friend?”
I managed a shy smile. “A boyfriend.”
“He didn’t come with you this morning.”
“You didn’t invite him.”
“He knows we’re together?”
“Of course. I’d never lie to him.”
Cho puckered his lips, as if the kasseri had soured in his mouth. “I’ve been trying to reach Köse.”
“Oh?”
“Did something happen at Köse’s home?”
How much did Cho know? Could I get away with lying? Because I did not want to tell Cho that Köse was dead. Murdered. Although, if Cho was responsible, he already knew. If Cho was responsible, he was playing me. I pressed my fingers to my chest and searched for the right answer.
Consuela came to my rescue. She chose that moment to dart between a waiter’s legs. Too bad for the waiter, he was carrying an enormous tray. He lost his balance, and suçuk yumurta and olives and kasseri crashed to the ground.
“Oops.” It was the understatement of the week.
In the hullaballoo that surrounded Consuela’s disaster, Cho’s question was forgotten.
I ignored the maître d’s black looks and gathered my dog onto my lap. “Shame on you,” I told her.
We both knew I didn’t mean it. She’d saved me from getting caught in a lie.
“Do you have any idea where the box is now?” Cho demanded.
“No. How would I?” I looked over my shoulder at the fuming maître d, then leaned toward Cho. “I don’t think the management is thrilled with Consuela. We should probably go. Thank you for breakfast.”
He gaped at me as if he couldn’t believe Consuela and I would eat and run.
I stood. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Cho.”
“Wait.”
I paused and offered him a warm, not-a-brain-in-my-head, happy smile. “Yes?”
“You’re sure you didn’t open the box? Your boyfriend didn’t open it?”
“I’m sure. Mark and I had other things to think about.” My smile turned flirty. “We had an island to ourselves.”
“You said the box was stolen in Athens.”
Uh-oh. “It was.”
Yip. Let’s get out of here before you blow it.
“You took the box back to Athens?”
I nodded. “We booked a commercial flight, and since I didn’t know what was in it, I worried about taking it through security. We decided the easiest thing to do was return it to Mr. Dimitriou. Yurgi could pick it up later.” Beneath the cover of Consuela’s fur, I crossed my fingers.
Cho stared at me for long seconds.
I exuded sunny brainlessness to the best of my abilities. “Is that it?”
He stood. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Fields.”
“You should totally call me Poppy. Thanks again for breakfast.” The little I’d eaten was churning in my stomach.
Had he believed me? I felt his gaze on my back as I walked away.
Consuela and I emerged from the restaurant and took a moment. I leaned against the building and let strength rebuild in my knees. Then we walked to the corner, where drivers honked and scooters weaved through traffic as if their riders had death wishes.
She sniffed at the air. Yip! Poppy watch out!
Her warning came too late. Someone grabbed my arm, and my phone clattered to the pavement.
A hand closed around my throat, and a man I’d never seen before shoved me into a car.