Chapter Four
After Petra disappeared back into the city, Matt let the moment linger before returning to the task at hand.
He returned to the work the way he always did—by narrowing his attention until only what mattered remained. Two secondary leads from Carissa. There was a bank record Matt wanted to check on first and then an address used for a shell company that didn’t seem to exist.
Matt first went to the bank tied to the person associated with the bank record that went cold. He used his old business card as a financial advisor to hope he could get an address, but it was either false or would not be shared with him.
He then checked on the address of the shell company that didn’t seem to exist here in Istanbul. It was a small convenience store. He took a quick picture of the proprietor’s name to send off to Carissa. It didn’t look like a lead to him, but he doesn’t like to leave things to chance.
Back in the hotel room, he closed the door, dropped his jacket over a chair, and called Carissa.
The conversation was brief. Efficient. Matt mentioned what that he recovered nothing from the bank, and she mentioned she received his image of the name plaque at the convenience store. They spoke the way they always did—no filler, no reassurance, no aloud speculation. When they hung up, the work remained suspended.
Matt realized he was hungry only after the room went quiet.
He opened the minibar. Stared at it, faintly irritated. Ate anyway. Chocolate-covered almonds that tasted more like packaging than chocolate. Fruit that looked better than it was. Enough to steady him. Still, his mind drifted—back to the woman he bumped into earlier.
Petra.
He checked the time. Just past six.
Matt didn’t rush. He never did. He changed clothes—nothing dramatic. Just a clean linen shirt and sandals in lewd of his business shoes. He left the hotel with purpose disguised as leisure and headed toward the Golden Horn.
He walked the area slowly, absorbing it the way he absorbed everything. Sightlines. Crowd flow. Where people lingered. Where they passed through. A vendor selling roses from a metal bucket. A café with a few outdoor tables—quiet enough for conversation, busy enough to disappear into. Another spot near the water where the light softened as the sun lowered.
It wasn’t about control. It was about awareness. He wanted the evening to be simple, but Matt didn’t like circumstance. He wanted to be prepared so he can act spontaneous.
By the time he reached the water, he was satisfied. He stopped near the edge, hands loose at his sides, watching boats drift past with unhurried certainty. The city felt different here. Less compressed. Sound stretched instead of stacked.
He noticed a pleasant scent of perfume wafting in the air behind him. Something light and pleasant. He turned.
Petra stood a few steps behind him. Her work clothes gone. Hair down around her shoulders. The city reflected softly in her eyes. She looked nothing like the woman he’d met earlier—and exactly like the one he’d hoped she would be.
They didn’t speak at first. Closed the distance at the same time. Hesitated. Then laughed quietly at the uncertainty of it. The hug was brief, slightly awkward, and unmistakably wanted.
“I’m glad you came,” she said.
“So am I,” Matt answered. And meant it.
They started walking as the sun dipped lower, the light thinning to gold across the water. Conversation came easily now. Small things. Observations. Teasing, flirting, laughter that surprised both of them.
When they passed the rose vendor, Matt stopped without comment. Bought one. Handed it to her like it had just occurred to him. Petra accepted it with a smile that stayed longer than politeness required.
They settled at a small place near the water. Ordered something light. Shared a bottle of wine that tasted better than it should have. Matt ate with real appetite. Petra watched, quietly amused, saying nothing about it.
The city shifted around them as the sun disappeared. Istanbul held the light a few seconds longer before letting it go.
Matt leaned back slightly, glass in hand, the evening unfolding exactly as it was meant to. They flirted with their eyes at first, then Matt slid his chair closer to her so they can exchange gentle touches as they laughed.
Turkey was not a waste of time.