Ayaz POV
Elysium Art Residence Bomonti (Reception)
Emir and I were both at the reception desk. Now, Emir is a known playboy—he goes for tall, seductive women with curves, the kind you'd expect to see strutting down a Victoria’s Secret runway. So seeing him flirt with a receptionist was a bit off-brand for him. Not that she wasn’t beautiful—Turkish women are stunning—but Emir usually doesn’t go out of his way to impress them.
They were both laughing, clearly enjoying their conversation, so I decided to step in. I tapped Emir on the shoulder and asked, “So? What’s the deal? Did you finish your booking?”
He shook his head and replied, “Nope. They said there aren’t any available executive rooms or any rooms at all.”
I glanced at the receptionist, slid off my sunglasses, gave her a wink, and asked, “Are you sure there are no rooms left?”
She looked up, visibly startled to see me. Her eyes widened in surprise as she asked, “Wait… Are you Ayaz? Ayaz Ermerizt? The Ayaz Ermerizt—the superstar?”
I leaned in closer, put a finger to my lips, and whispered, “Shhh… yes. But no one can know I’m here, alright? I’ll give you a selfie if you can find a vacant room for my friend.”
She nodded eagerly and responded, “Actually, we do have one room left on the 11th floor. It's usually reserved for political guests, which is why we require either a Deluxe or Executive booking for it. But I can make an exception. How many nights will he be staying?”
She then turned to Emir, waiting for his answer.
Emir took a deep breath before replying, “Maybe around five to seven days. Can I have that room?”
She nodded and responded, “Of course. May I see an identification card, please?”
Emir reached into his side pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed over his residency card to the receptionist. She took it, then turned to her computer and began typing, while Emir and I continued chatting.
About four minutes later, she paused what she was doing, looked up with a smile, and asked, “Cash or card, sir?”
“Card,” Emir answered with a grin.
A minute or two later, she interrupted us once more, this time handing back his card along with the room key. “Sir, here’s your card and your key—11th floor, room 113, left wing. If you need anything, just dial 1 and we’ll be happy to assist you. Thank you, and enjoy your stay.”
 After Emir took his key, we stepped back from the counter and paused in the hallway for a quick chat.
“Emir, are you sure you want to stay here? I mean, I have an extra room at home—you wouldn’t have to spend any money,” I offered.
Emir burst into laughter and replied, “Dude, after everything you just pulled at the front desk to get me a room, you’re now offering me a place at your house? No way. Besides, I’d like to enjoy a bit of privacy. And let’s not forget—your dad still drops by your place now and then, and you know how much he hates me.”
We both laughed, shook hands, and shared a quick hug.
He headed toward the elevator, and I walked out to the parking lot.
Just as I was about to start the car, I noticed Emir’s phone ringing on the passenger seat. His mom, Aunt Laila, was calling. I picked up the phone and answered, “Hi, Aunt Laila—Emir left his phone in my car, but I’m on my way to bring it to him now, okay? Bye.”
I ended the call and hurried back into the hotel.
While waiting for the elevator to arrive from the 11th floor, I pulled out my own phone and started checking for any messages or emails—something I hadn’t had a chance to do while I was still at the camp.
After about three minutes, the elevator doors finally opened. Still focused on checking my emails, I stepped inside without paying much attention to where I was going. As I walked in, a sudden wave of fragrance hit me—a blend of vanilla with a hint of wild daisy, subtly seductive and unmistakably feminine.
I looked up, trying to find the source of the scent, certain it came from a girl—but I didn’t catch her face. She was already rushing out just as the elevator doors began to close.
As the elevator ascended, I leaned against the wall, staring blankly ahead, my mind lingering on that scent. This couldn’t be happening. I’d been enchanted twice in a single day—and in the strangest ways. First, there was that Asian girl at the airport, and now this mysterious fragrance.
I muttered to myself like a crazy person, “Ayaz, get a grip. You just got out of military service. No girls for two months—it’s totally normal to feel like this.”
When the elevator reached the 11th floor and the doors opened, I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and walked out toward Emir’s room.