Yasmin hoisted the heavy bag of garbage and shoved through the back door of the kitchen and into the alley. As the door slammed shut behind her, she huffed in annoyance. The light was out again. Management kept replacing the bulb, but it was something else. The wiring maybe. She didn’t know because she wasn’t an electrician, but if she were, the darn thing would be fixed by now and she wouldn’t be walking through a dark alley again.
The first indication she had that she wasn’t alone was the smell of cigar smoke. Yasmin wrinkled her nose as it invaded her nostrils.
“Is there someone out here?” she asked cautiously, squinting through her glasses.
She should probably be more afraid of a dark alley in the downtown core of Toronto, but she’d taken this trip out to the garbage bin hundreds of times without incident.
She heard footsteps and the smell of cigar smoke got closer.
“You’re not supposed to be out here,” she said firmly. “Staff only out back of the hotel.”
“How do you know I’m not staff?” His voice was a low rumble, but smooth, like river water over stones. He had an accent, but she couldn’t place it. Definitely not Canadian.
Yasmin still wasn’t afraid. Only curious. She’d only once run into someone out back when he’d climbed the fence and was digging through the garbage bin when she threw her bag in. He’d popped his head up, startling her. She’d asked him if he found anything interesting and he’d shown her a couple of items hotel guests had thrown out.
The hotel was one of the most expensive in the city, catering to an exclusive clientele, so she hadn’t been surprised at the guy’s findings. She’d told him to be careful and left him to it.
Somehow, she didn’t think this guy was a dumpster diver. She wished the light was working because she couldn’t make him out.
“I know you’re not staff because there were only three of us left in the kitchen and everyone was still inside when I left.” She frowned at him. “Come to think of it, how did you get out here? I didn’t see anyone come through the kitchen.”
“Over there.” She saw a hand come out of the shadows and point. A couple of rings glinted in the dim light coming from the street.
He was pointing at the discreet exit. A back exit from the hotel, used mainly for celebrities and escorts. Somehow, she didn’t think this guy was an escort. A celebrity maybe?
“Who are you?” she asked bluntly.
She felt tension thrumming through him and nearly took the question back. She shouldn’t be offending hotel guests. She already had one strike against her for telling a hotel guest she wasn’t a pimp when she’d dropped off room service and he’d asked her to arrange an escort for the evening.
“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “My name is Yasmin.”
“Volkan Kartel.”
“Okay, Volkan, you can’t be out here.” She hefted her garbage bag and made her way down the ramp to the dumpster. “You’ll have to finish your smoke and go back inside. Next time, use your room’s balcony.”
