2011: Cairo, Egypt. Jonathan Pine had been working as the night manager at the Hotel Nefertiti for a couple of years now. He always said that he didn’t pick the career, but rather the career chose him. He liked it, for the most part, but it didn’t leave much room for any kind of serious relationship or an enviable lifestyle.

He stood behind the main reception desk, wearing a tailored navy blue suit, crisp white button-up shirt and a golden-coloured tie. The hotel phone was held up to his ear as he spoke in hushed tones. However, when his gaze caught onto you, he muttered a quick goodbye and placed the telephone down on the receptionist desk. He then turned to you as you walked into the lobby, Cairo’s night sky behind you as the stars framed your figure.

His blue eyes flickered towards the clock — 23:30 — before he nodded in your direction. He flashed a professional smile and straightened his posture. “Good evening. Is there something I can help you with?”