PROLOGUE
Caroline, I know you have no reason to trust me anymore, but the least I could do is explain myself to you. I know the police has been watching your every move. You are their only lead to me. There is a chance for you to get away, to throw them off the trail. Board the eight-twenty-two, the Gare De Lyon. Once you're on board, pick someone with my height and build and make them believe it is me. It is important that you follow my instructions precisely, sweetheart. Have faith, Caroline, for I'll be with you soon. Know that my absence these past two years, it was for your own good too.
Fondly,
Klaus.
P.S. I've always wanted to show you Venice, love.
JUNE 9, AFTERNOON
PARIS - VENICE
A YOUNG MAN THAT IS probably in his mid-thirties sits alone in the window seat with his nose pointedly stuck in a book. Dark brown messy hair sticks up on the side of his head, his straight eyebrows are drawn together that a crease appears between them, and he's holding the corner of his lower lip in between his teeth. He's so engrossed with the book he's reading that he's seemingly indifferent to all the fuss transpiring around him. His eyes keep flicking through the pages, taking in as many words as he could, as if he were to stop now he would miss something brilliant that will happen in the story. His wild pupil scans the page from left to right and back, from a word to a word, eagerly absorbing it all in.
While at the same time, a petite blonde lady stepped through the sliding metal doors. Her eyes immediately starts assessing the passengers boarding the train. Dark shades perched on her button nose, blocking people from staring into her deep azure eyes. Her gaze rested on a well-dressed french-man. Medium height, medium build. Standing all alone in the aisle, examining his ticket. He's pretty easy on the eyes with his masculine features, sharp jaws that commands attention, long golden hair swept back in polished fashion, concentrated pair of dark forest green eyes, but with a grim set to his mouth. She glance at her reflection critically, in the gleaming glass window of the train. Adjusting her hair and dress. She has a long bright silky hair, it flows down her back perfectly, near her waist. She wears a light cream coloured cropped cape coat over an off-the shoulder white dress, with same ivory colour of long gloves, and a piece of bright-coloured garment wrapped loosely around her tiny waist as a sash. The look was completed with a set of her pointed-toe silver bronze heels, and a pair of wide gold hoops earrings.
Satisfied with what she sees, she turns and starts to approach the man, like a cat stalking it's prey. Numerous pairs of eyes were immediately glued to her the moment she took a step down the aisle, like a pageant queen she is. Makes no mistake, the lady knows that she is exquisite. The gentleman heard the clicks of her heels and look up. The sight that greets him made his hard-lined mouth falls open and his eyes widen with a slight astonishment. She smiles coyly at him, basking in the attention she's receiving. What can she say, she loves the attention. The man was about to say something when a woman suddenly arrives and slings an arm around him. The newcomer is very much beautiful, if not absolutely beautiful. Long curly brown hair, her height looks about 5 ft 6 tall. Her long round nose is turned up slightly and she was blessed with high cheekbones, giving her face a sharp look. This was softened however, by her large compelling brown doe-eyes. His lady, she assumed. The dark-haired lady continuously glares at the other woman who approaches her man.
"What are you doing, Vincent? Our seat is over there," She chastised softly, and with an almost disappointed backward glance, he allows himself to be dragged away.
Annoyed and frustrated, the fair-haired lady turns and search around for another possibility. And her eyes fell on a tousled haired man, sitting alone by the window. He's so wrapped up in his own world-in his book-that he didn't even spare a glance when someone nearly tumble down on the walkway right next to him. Feeling like taking a challenge, she starts advancing casually towards him. A few men in the passenger car's eyes are still locked on her, hoping for her to turn around and return the gesture with the same intensity, yet this one man ignores her presence. She eye him with thinly veiled contempt as she makes her way to him, then her expression slowly changes.
The horn blares. Once. Twice. The earsplitting sound resonating in her ears, and the train starts to pick up speed.
"..pick someone with my height and build.."
The train hurtles past the scenery, heavy squealing on iron rails. The landscape shifts from rows of tall buildings in the city to a string of thick verdant trees. Thick carpet, mellow wood of the inlaid panels, the subtlety of the Lalique mirrors and the softly lit lamps all inspire a feeling of great luxury. But he looks vaguely out of place. Sitting by the window in his casual jeans and pullover sweater. He's wrapped up in a dog-eared paperback spy novel, so wrapped up that he barely notices someone is sitting down in the seat opposite him. Feeling kind of overlook, she make quite a show of crossing her legs and clears her throat once. Still he ignores. She clears her throat once again, louder this time.
He glances up. Finally.
Acting nonchalant, she slowly and sensually takes her coat off. Popping buttons one-by-one respectively, as if she's performing a tantalizing strip tease. Boy, does that got his attention now. He's so captivated by her actions to the point of being unsettled. Torn between wanting to get back to his reading and watching her. She takes off her sunglasses, revealing two stunning orbs. She goes to remove her coat, but the zipper seems to give her trouble. Not even bothering in being subtle, she sits up in her seat and leans into the man.
"My zipper- ah! It's stuck. Lend me a hand, maybe," She said when he did nothing and stupidly stared at her, like a fish out of the tank, and good heavens! Even her voice sounded sensual. 'Bloody hell,' thought the dark-haired man. He sets his book down on the table stand between them, slides it aside until the hard covers of the book touches the train's wall, and carefully leans closer. Very stiffly, he reaches his hands towards the side of the woman's lovely neck, and he can't help but to stare at her smooth, porcelain skin, a little too long for it to be considered appropriate. Can't really blame him, he is a neck person.
"Well?" He was immediately jerked out of his reverie when he hears her sweet voice. He adjusts himself in his seat and attempts to unwind the trapped thread of fabric, but the zipper continues to resist.
"Afraid this might hurt, darling," he breathed. She slides forward in her seat to get even closer. She cursed lightly inside her head at the table between them, successfully blocking her advancement to lean as close as possible into him. They are sitting so close with each other right now that she can feel his breath on the side of her ear.
"No. Don't be afraid," she sighs, and he was about to retort something back at her-something like 'Oh, it's not me that should be afraid-' but at that moment the train sways slightly, throwing him off balance, and thus resulting in him tugging the zipper sharply with his hand. His words died right on the edge of his tongue. The zipper gives with a tearing sound. He freezes. She looks down to the zipper in his hands, torn zipper in his hands.
"Sorry.. I tried though," her eyes flashed with fury for a brief moment. Taking a deep breath, she raises her gaze higher to level his.
"It doesn't matter anymore." sensed that she might've said that a bit too coldly, she feels bad for blaming him while it was her idea asking for his help, so she gave him a small smile. "Don't give up so easily," she added. Reluctantly, he continues with the zipper. The tearing sound continues as he lowers the zipper with a bated breath, inch by inch. First her neck, then down her throat, then going lower to her cleavage, her skin are gradually uncovered. The zipper keeps going downward. And there's no sign of anything underneath. The man is practically sweating by now. Finally he uncovers the fabric. Finally.
Unconsciously, he releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He finishes unzipping the sweater and falls back into his seat. The flaxen haired lady slides it off her shoulders, still sensuous as ever.
"Thanks," she flirted as she winked. She settles back into her seat, almost cat-like and watches him. He stares at her for a several moment, at loss for words.
"Caroline," she voiced. That seem to make him come out of it. He blinks twice, before he test those three syllables in his mouth. Her name rolls off his tongue like a chant the first time, and with a rare familiarity the second, like he already knew a Caroline in his life.
"Kol. Short from Nicholas, but just call me Kol. What parents would ever name their son Nicholas nowadays, I swear," he runs his hand through his hair while he shakes his head lightly.
"That's a nice name," she disagreed, with a note of interest sparks in her eyes at hearing his full name. He made a face but said nothing.
"Well that makes it easier, you won't mind using a different name then, right." That doesn't sound like a question to him.
"..and make them believe it is me."
I swear- I promise you this story will be 100% about Klaroline. I know some of you might get confused and worried about Kol. Don't be, he ain't got nothing on our ship. If you want to understand the story better, you can go ahead and watch the movie. It's called The Tourist, starred by Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp. The story has a really nice pace and a pretty mind blowing ending ;) x
