Love's Inferno: When Fire Meets Ice

DORIS EVANS scurried through the crowded airport, searching frantically for the lost and found office. Her heart pounded against her chest and her breath shortened and quickened as she pushed her way through the throngs of people. She felt panic rising inside her, and her hands trembling as she fumbled through her pockets, looking for her phone.

OH, DORIS! YOU AND YOUR SCATTERED BRAIN!

How had she misplaced her purse? There were important things in there that she couldn't afford to lose.

Just when she was about to lose it completely to panic, she spotted a sign pointing to the lost and found, and she hurried towards it, feeling a glimmer of hope.

She shoved past someone as she reached the entrance. Subconsciously, she apologized hastily before proceeding to the clerk's desk.

Doris cleared her throat. "Uh. . . Hi, there!" She said, addressing the clerk. "I lost my purse some minutes ago."

Desperate, she pleaded with the clerk, explaining that she had her passport and other important documents in the purse. Luckily, someone had just brought in the same purse she had described.

"Is this your purse?" he asked, holding up a small black handbag.

Doris' eyes widened in recognition. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "That's it. That's my purse! Oh! I was really starting to panic. Thank you so much!"

After going through the identification process and whatnot, it was released back to her.

Before she turned to leave, relieved with the fact that her belongings were retrieved, she asked the clerk, "Do you have a clue who might have found my purse? I would love to thank him personally."

"Oh? He was just standing there on the phone a few minutes ago."

Doris remembered blindly bumping into someone right at the entrance. "Ah! Thanks again," she cried. Then she hurried out. Hopefully, she would catch up with whoever the lifesaver was.

She spotted the tall, dark-haired hunk, cladded in a white and black checked suit, who was still on his phone. She recognized him immediately. When she'd bumped into him earlier, she'd slightly noticed his unique sense of fashion and his refreshing essence.

"Excuse me. . . Excuse me. . ." she called, chasing after him. When she drew closer she tapped, his shoulder. "Uh, excuse me, I learned you found my purse. I can't thank you enough. This-"

"Doris. . .? Doris? Is that you?"

A moment of silence saturated the air as their eyes met, and Doris felt jolts of electricity running through her body. His gaze was intense and magnetic, and she couldn't look away.

It couldn't be. . .

Doris finally managed to break the silence, her voice trembling slightly. "Brad. . .?"

There was an awkward pause as the two of them stood there, looking at each other in disbelief. The tension in the air was palpable as if they were both waiting for something to happen.

Brad's gaze was mesmerizing, and Doris could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse revving, giant butterflies flapping her wings in her stomach.

As much as she tried not to, a brief flashback of their time together flashed through her mind. The late nights, the whispered conversations, the stolen moments of passion. It had been a whirlwind, but it had ended so abruptly.

And now here he was, standing right in front of her, glowing in his beautiful, heart-tingling smile, making her break the promise she'd made to herself four years ago. . .

NEVER FALL AGAIN!

JUST LIKE many other women in their youthful prime, Doris had believed in fairytale love, in the idea of Prince Charming who would whisk her away from her mundane life. She'd fed herself on a steady diet of romantic comedies and love stories.

Though she'd also been warned about the other side of love, the side where people's hearts get broken and lives get shattered, she in her true hopeless romantic fashion had chosen to ignore them all and push for love and romance.

She'd fall in and out of love and had her fair share of broken hearts and bruised egos. But yet, she held out hope that maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there who was meant for her.

And, boy, had she been through a lot finding that "someone" meant for her!

From the jerk in high school who had left her for the blonde cheerleader only for the reason, she'd been much more curvaceous than she'd been-like, how was it her fault mother nature decided to visit her a little later than others?

To the bastard in her first year of college who had promised her the world and then disappeared without a trace. . . and her limited edition sports car. THAT BANDIT!

Down to that scum of the earth who had dated her merely for the fact her father was a business tycoon and left her for some other heiress the moment, he realized she had no intention of taking over her father's empire.

She'd known it was a risk, that her heart could get broken over and over again but she'd been willing to take the chance.

Love was worth the risk, she'd thought. And she could endure about anything to find it.

Well, not until she'd met Brad Bruce.

When she first met him, she'd been struck by his good looks and charming personality. She'd been swept off her feet by his attentiveness and his ability to make her feel special.

They'd quickly fallen into a sexual relationship, but Doris had thought there was more to it than that. Even though he'd made it clear oftentimes that he wasn't capable of love, she'd stupidly let her heart deceive her into believing that he felt the same way she did, that they had a connection beyond the physical.

However, she'd been mistaken and led herself to her worst heartbreak ever.

After all her horrible experiences, she'd eradicate the illusion she built around love and vow to safeguard her heart from further damage.

And so far, she'd been doing a great job of keeping that vow so why the hell was she melting like butter in a hot pan just by the presence of this man?

Doris beamed, rolling her shoulders back as she struggled to compose herself and prayed he couldn't hear the sound of her heart hammering against her chest like craze. "Brad, what are you doing in Paris?"

"Work," he said casually with a shrug. "And you?"

Doris pursed her lips. "Uh. . . well, I. . ." Before she could finish her statement, Brad's phone rang.

"Excuse me. . ." He raised a finger before proceeding to converse with whoever it was on the other end of the line. "Yeah. Okay, I'll be there in a short while."

When he disconnected the call, he turned his attention to her. "I'm sorry. I'm really in a hurry," he said as he began to move away from her. "Let's do this some other time, okay?"

"Okay!" Doris called, waving him off. "Let's do that."

A smile lit up her face as she watched him vanish through the crowd. Though their relationship had not ended all blissfully, it had also been the most joyful and fulfilling experience she had ever had. Despite her best efforts, she could not deny the fact that she missed him and looked forward to their next meeting.

Doris gasped sharply as it dawned on her. HIS CONTACT! She had forgotten to ask for his contact. How were they supposed to meet each other?

UGH! DORIS!

She began to push through the crowd again, apologizing as she hurried to the exit but unfortunately, she was just in time to see him get into a cab and zoomed off.

"Ugh! Come on," Doris groaned in frustration. "I was just this close."

Doris huffed in defeat as she watched the cab disappear in the distance. Perhaps this was for the best. Perhaps the universe was trying to protect her from making another rash decision that would lead to her hurting herself once again.

Besides, she had more pressing problems to deal with at the moment and her love life was the very least of them. However, if fate were to be on their side then they were bound to meet each other again.

* * *

Seething with wrath, Doris walked briskly through the entrance of her agency.

D&M Agency was her pride and joy. She'd never believe she would come this far with her dreams all by herself without anyone's help.

As a typical Daddy's Girl whose "Daddy" was amongst the top five wealthiest tycoons in the states, she'd grown up having all the options and luxury. She'd been treated like a princess for as long as she could remember, getting anything. . . and everything she wanted at her beck and call.

She'd had maids to wait on her at every second of the day. Spoilt with expensive gifts and a lavish lifestyles.

Most kids got toys, puppies, and other cutie stuff on their fifth birthday but her father had given her a piece of real estate.

He'd gifted her a Ferrari at ten she wasn't even old enough to ride it. A yacht with her name inscribed on it at sixteen. A limitless Black Card at eighteen. . . the list went on and on and on.

Since her birth mother had died the same day she was born, she never had the chance to meet her. Her father was the only family she had left, so turning to him for help had always felt natural and instinctive.

Truth be told, she hadn't needed to reach out to him. He'd always seemed to have a way of knowing when she needed help and often solved her problems before she could even ask. It was as if her father could read her mind.

However, at a certain point in her life, she decided to strike out on her own and explore life without his guidance or financial support. She knew it would be risky, but she was determined to make her own way and find her own success. She was ready to take flight and see what she could achieve on her own.

And that she'd done when she moved to Paris four years ago, away from family and friends.

She'd left her old life behind and start over in Paris. It had been a fresh start, a chance to leave her heartbreak and pain in the past and put her life back together.

Doris had worked hard to establish her modeling agency from the ground up. It had been a struggle at the start but she'd succeeded in making it a thriving business. Now, she had models from all over the world working for her, and she was considered one of the top agencies in Paris in just two years.

She was proud of what she'd accomplished. . . and extremely protective of it. That was why she was prepared to raise hell on earth after learning what had happened to one of her models.

"GIVE ME THE DEETS!" Doris exploded as she blasted through the door of the meeting room. "What exactly happened when I was away?!"

Everyone rose to their feet, their expression glistening with surprise as she stormed in, including Geneviève Moreau, her acting president.

When she established her agency, she hadn't been ready to step into the limelight. She'd wanted to remain behind the scenes while running the affairs of the company. After careful consideration, she'd appointed Geneviève Moreau, a woman who exuded not just beauty and poise but also terrific insight, to take on the office of acting president and the public face of the company, while Doris remained the beating heart of the company, hidden from the world's view.

Which was quite funny considering the fact Doris had lived constantly in the public eye all her life. She'd been a child model, fell in love with the profession, and decided it was the career path to walk through and she'd smashed it quite excellently but now she was terrified to step into the spotlight.

It hadn't always been that way. In fact, it was far from it. She'd walked runways of prominent fashion shows, been on the cover of popular fashion magazines, starred in one or two musical videos and movies, and had over twenty million followers on her social media page.

She'd flourished in the industry and cherished all the attention she received but everything had changed on that day four years ago. . .

A few months after Doris arrived in Paris, striving to sort out her life as she settled into the new environment, she'd received an anonymous email filled with malicious affronts and abuses.

She waved it off and took it less seriously. Those kinds of messages didn't look weird to her. As a celebrity, she was used to getting anonymous messages daily.

Most times, some of her enthusiastic fans would create edits of her pictures or videos with themselves in them and send them to her email, declaring how much they loved her. Same way her anti-fans send her all sorts of hateful messages and grotesque edits.

But that particular email was extreme and one she shouldn't have taken lightly but Doris, in her carefree manner, brushed it aside as a bitter hater doing what they did best-spread hate.

She was unaffected by the situation until she started receiving death threats and photos of herself in various locations, which indicated that whoever was sending her the emails was stalking her.

Suddenly, the mysterious situation turned from a mild inconvenience into a terrifying, life-threatening situation. She became concerned for her safety and immediately got the authorities involved. However, they proved to be of no help to her situation and the threats and photographs continued to arrive.

When she asked the anonymous user once what they wanted from her, they responded with one word: LEAVE!

She was confused with what that meant or what she should do about it so she ignored it yet again and continued living her life.

But that was a bad idea!

One rainy night, she was riding home when she received that last dreadful message that stated, "You've ignored my warnings so today shall be your last."

She felt the coldness of terror clawing at her guts as she accelerated to get to the safety of her apartment as quickly as possible but she did not make it there.

She awoke in a hospital a week later, where the doctors explained to her what had happened. Apparently, she had been in a car accident, caused by a truck colliding with her vehicle, but she was most certain that wasn't the case.

Someone was after her life! She knew it but couldn't do anything about it because she didn't even know who it was.

With the help of the police, she tried to find the perpetrator, but they'd always gotten to dead ends. Whoever was behind this must be really good at covering his tracks.

Scared for her life and that of her loved ones, she'd decided to lay low until she discovered who was threatening her life and why.

Especially now she had something very precious to protect. Something that meant so dearly to her that she couldn't afford to put in harm's way.

~ ~

Geneviève hurried towards her instantly, her ruby red lips stretching in a smile. "Ma'am! You didn't have to come all the way here from Nigeria," she said in her thick French accent. "I and the rest of the team are getting the situation under control."

Doris had found this stunning young lady on IG, a couple of weeks ago and had decided her agency needed a fresh face like hers. Her beauty was striking, but it was her raw talent that truly captivated Doris. Hence, she'd flown all the way to West Africa herself determined to get her girl. Although it would have been more convenient to let the casting team handle it, Doris knew that when it came to scouting underaged potential models, she preferred to do it in person.

And there had she heard all the buzz revolving around her agency.

Doris raised a well-carved eyebrow. "Oh? Then why is the dougebag still not behind bars."

"Well. . ."

"Tell me! What. Exactly. Happened?" Doris cut in, drumming her pointy, manicured fingernails on the table with each word she spoke. She was losing her forbearance.

One of the staff members spoke up, recounting the disturbing incident that had occurred a few days prior.

Apparently, a few of the models from the agency had been chosen to model the apparel for a brand's upcoming showcase. But after the showcase, one of the models, Elena, had been cornered by a VIP attendee who had subjected her to unwanted, inappropriate advances even when she protested continuously.

The staff member's voice shook as she explained the incident, and Doris could feel her anger rising.

"Fortunately," Geneviève said after the staff was done speaking. "There was not much harm done. Though she'd sustained a few bruises from struggling to get away from him."

Another of the staff members continued, revealing that after the incident, Elena had run into Julianne, another model from the agency, and told her what had happened.

Julianne, on the other hand, had immediately taken action.

She went to the dress changing room, where Elena had been cornered, and recorded a video of the man leaving the room, calling him names while he tried to avoid the situation.

She uploaded the video on social media, along with pictures of the bruises on Elena's arm. With these damning pieces of evidence, she publicly vilified him for misconduct, calling for consequences.

Atta Girl! Doris thought with satisfaction.

Julianne was like a sleeping volcano, always simmering with fiery passion just below the surface. Her anger burned hot, and she was quick to act when she felt that someone had been wronged. She would not stand for injustice, and she was not afraid to voice her opinions loudly and publicly.

But. . .

"How did something like this happen, anyway?" Doris seethed. "Where was the security team?"

Geneviève, her voice unsteady, interjected. "Our top models were at a bigger showcase in New York. Most of the securities were assigned to them. We were stretched thin, and we didn't have enough security at the local showcase."

Geneviève's explanation made sense, but Doris was still not satisfied.

She'd been in this industry for long and had experienced the good and bad side of it. She knew with the slightest negligence a model could get molested at any time.

"That is no justification," Doris said firmly, her voice low and steady. "If we are running short on security, then we need to hire more. I have made it clear that the protection of our models is our top priority. This should never happen again."

Doris' words were unequivocal. She would never tolerate any excuses or negligence when it came to the safety of the models. She expected nothing less than the highest level of care and security.

"Yes, Ma'am," Geneviève uttered in a low mumble.

Doris took in a deep breath, retrieving her lost composure. She smiled at the other woman. "I'm sorry. . ."

"It's okay," Geneviève nodded, returning her smile.

Then just as immediately, Doris' brows creased up in fury. "Who's the scumbag, anyway?"

"Antoine Baudelaire," Geneviève replied, handing Doris a file with his profile. "He's the youngest child and only son of Laurent Baudelaire, the Chairman of Baudelaire Hotels. He's known for his wild parties and reckless behavior, but no one expected this."

Her voice was full of anger and disgust. It was clear that she, just as Doris, was not going to let this matter drop.

"Initially, we received threats from Laurent Baudelaire's lawyers, who claimed we're defaming his son," Geneviève said, her voice quivering with emotion. "However, when they realized that our legal team was not to be trifled with, they retreated." She scoffed. "We are not going to let this slide. We're suing him for sexual harassment, even though, we may not have concrete evidence, considering they'd beaten us to getting our hands on that CCTV footage."

Doris frowned. "What do you mean by they beat us to it?"

"When we went to the hotel to get the footage from the day of the incident, we found out it was erased," the PR team leader asserted a note of frustration in his voice. "They must have known that we would come for it. I think The Baudelaires had made prior contact with them. They are trying to cover their tracks."

Doris released a scoffing laugh laced with thick resentment. "Oh? That's how they wanna play?!" After a moment's pause, she spoke up, her voice strong and resolute. "PR team, draft a statement to release to the press. It should clearly outline the allegations against Antoine Baudelaire, and it will state our intention to seek justice for our model. We will not let this incident go unchallenged. We need to tell the world that we will not tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone, no matter who they are. We would show them we're serious about protecting our models and would not stand for any kind of abuse or harassment. Get it done right now."

The team leader grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, and one more thing, make sure that video never leaves the internet."

"Ah. . . how they've tried to take it down," he said cheekily. "But no matter how many times they try, we keep making it go viral."

"Good!" The sides of Doris' lips lifted in a wicked smile. "Make sure Antonie Baudelaire never stops topping the trending keyword chart. We're not going to let him get away with this. Let the public know what a disgusting person he is. Oh, while you're at it, dig up as much dirt as possible you can find on Baudelaire Hotels."

"Already on it, Ma'am!"

Doris scoffed. "They think they can cripple us by erasing the CCTV footage, they have no idea how petty I can get," she muttered under her breath. Then she turned to Geneviève. "It's time we played dirty too, and gave them a taste of their own medicine. We are going to keep using the power of the internet to our advantage. Let's see how they'll deal with the public backlash to their corporation."