BY YOUR SIDE

3

CHAPTER 3

INGRID

A wave of mortification washes over her as the towel slips, pooling at her feet. Her breath catches in her throat, and her cheeks flush crimson. She feels utterly exposed, vulnerable under Zayed's intense gaze.

His eyes, dark and assessing, move over her body in a way that makes her feel like a startled prey caught in a predator's sight. A shiver, not entirely from the coolness of the air, runs down her spine.

With a gasp, she snatches the fallen towel, clutching it tightly to her chest. She stumbles backward, her bare feet padding softly on the carpet until her back presses against the cool, solid wall.

Her eyes remain fixed on Zayed, wide with a mixture of shame and fear. He takes a step closer, and her breath hitches again.

"Please," she whispers, her voice trembling, "do not hurt me."

He stops, his expression shifting slightly. A look that borders on hurt flickers across his face. "Do you truly think I am that cruel, Ingrid?" he asks, his voice low, almost a murmur.

She does not respond, her gaze dropping to the floor, her body still shaking. He watches her for a long moment, then sighs, a sound heavy with a weariness she does not understand.

"Get dressed," he says, his voice regaining its usual calm authority. "I will be waiting for you in the lounge."

He takes a step back, creating a space between them, and then turns and leaves her alone. Ingrid exhales loudly, the tension slowly beginning to ease. She quickly snatches the bag of new clothes that Zara's contact had delivered earlier. Pulling out a pair of simple blue jeans and a black and white striped shirt, she dresses swiftly, her movements still a little shaky.

Joining Zayed in the lounge, she finds him seated on the sofa, his attention absorbed by the screens of his various phones. He looks up as she enters, a strange, almost forced smile touching his lips.

"Are you…comfortable?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over her quickly.

She nods.

"How was your day?" he inquires, his tone attempting a semblance of normalcy.

"It was horrible," Ingrid replies, her voice flat. "I felt suffocated, locked in here the whole day, not knowing what was going to happen to me."

He looks at her, his expression softening slightly. "If it offers any comfort, your mother is well. She has been informed that you secured a temporary job on a cruise ship and will be back in approximately one week, so she has no reason to worry."

She nods slowly, a small measure of relief washing over her at the thought of her mother being spared worry. "What about my laptop?" she asks, the need to maintain some semblance of her normal life resurfacing. "I have important work I need to access. When will that be sorted out?"

"Later today," Zayed replies, his gaze steady. Ingrid nods again, accepting his answer. He watches her for a moment, then asks, "Would you like to get out of here for a while? Get some fresh air?"

A flicker of hope ignites in her eyes. "Yes," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I would love that."

"Then let us go," Zayed says, rising from the sofa. He extends his hand towards her.

Hesitantly, she places her hand in his. His grip is firm yet gentle. They leave the suite, Ahmed, Zara and Khalil falling in step behind them.

"Is this your daily life?" She asks, glancing back at their bodyguards. "To be followed everywhere like this?"

Zayed chuckles softly, a low rumble in his chest. "Yes, I am quite used to it."

He leads her through the quiet hotel lobby and out into the early morning light. Finding a spot that is still open around six am and offers a sense of tranquility and privacy proves surprisingly easy. Zayed knows the city well.

He takes her to a secluded rooftop café, a hidden gem with comfortable seating, soft music playing in the background, and a view overlooking the awakening city. The air is cool and fresh, carrying the promise of a new day.

They settle into a secluded corner booth. Zayed signals to a waiter, who approaches silently to take their order.

"Why were you awake and taking a shower so early?" Zayed asks, turning his attention back to her.

She looks down at her hands, her earlier apprehension returning slightly. "I couldn't sleep. Maybe it was because of Zara being around."

"Did Zara make you uncomfortable?" Zayed asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

"No," she says quickly. "Zara is nice. It is just that I am not used to having someone follow me and watch me so closely. It felt uncomfortable, like being watched by a hawk."

Zayed chuckles again, a softer, more genuine sound this time. "I apologize that you are experiencing that. It can be overwhelming at times."

They place their order with the waiter, who jots it down with a polite

nod. She asks, her brow furrowed with concern, "Will it not be problematic for you to be seen with me like this?"

He sighs softly, stirring his coffee with a small spoon. "My brother would not be pleased if he knew," he admits, his gaze meeting hers. "But he does not need to know everything. I gave you my word that I would protect you, and this is part of that."

She nods slowly, a sense of unease still lingering despite his reassurance. The waiter returns with their coffees, placing the steaming cups on the table before them.

Taking a tentative sip of her coffee, she asks, her curiosity getting the better of her, "Are you married? Do you have children?"

Zayed laughs, a genuine, unguarded sound that surprises her. "No," he replies, shaking his head.

"Why are you laughing?" She asks, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"Which woman would want a husband who is constantly on the road, living a life like mine?" he says, his eyes twinkling slightly. "When would I even find the time to be a proper husband and a father?"

"Does that mean you will never get married?" she inquires, her gaze softening with a hint of sympathy.

Zayed's expression turns serious. "My life is too busy, too dangerous. In my line of work, enemies often target those closest to your heart. I am not ready to expose someone I care about to that kind of risk."

"That is unfortunate," she says quietly, a genuine sentiment in her voice. "Because I think you would make beautiful babies."

A slow smile spreads across Zayed's face, a truly warm and unguarded smile this time. "Are you flirting with me, Ingrid?" he asks, his eyes teasing.

She chuckles, a light, airy sound. "How can I possibly be flirting with the man who kidnapped me?"

His lips remain sealed, a wry amusement in his eyes, as the waiter returns with their full order. She thanks the waiter and begins to eat, the aroma of the food filling the air.

She can feel Zayed's gaze on her the entire time, a silent, intense observation that makes her both self-conscious and strangely aware of his presence.

NARRATED

In a separate, lavish apartment overlooking the bustling V&A Waterfront, Karim reclines on a plush outdoor lounger. Several women, scantily clad in bikinis or walking around unclothed, move around the space, attending to his needs or simply enjoying the view. He takes a drag from a hookah pipe, the fragrant smoke swirling in the air.

One of his most trusted men, a hardened individual known for his efficiency in handling delicate situations, approaches him. "Sir," he says, his tone serious. "May I have a private word?"

Karim waves a dismissive hand at the women. "Khalas," he says curtly, the women disperse, understanding the shift in his demeanor. He turns his attention to his man, his dark eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

The man looks around to ensure their privacy before pulling out his phone. He scrolls through the screen and then holds it out for Karim to see. "You will not believe this, Sir."

Karim takes the phone, his brow furrowing as he examines the images. They are photographs of Zayed and the cleaner, Ingrid. The setting appears to be a cozy restaurant. In one picture, they are laughing, their faces close. In another, they are walking away, their hands clasped together.

"What is this?" Karim demands, his voice sharp with disbelief and anger. "What in God's name is Zayed doing with this girl?"

"Sir, this is not good," the man says, his voice low and urgent. "If the Rodriguez cartel gets wind of this, they will think Zayed orchestrated the entire incident at the club. They will believe he used the fight as a cover for something else, perhaps a setup."

Karim shakes his head vehemently. "No, that is impossible. I was there with him the entire time. He was as surprised as I was by Omar's foolishness."

"Regardless, Sir, this looks compromising," the man insists. "This girl is a liability. She is a distraction for Zayed, and now she is a potential threat to our entire operation."

Karim's jaw tightens. He stares at the images on the phone, his mind racing. The potential ramifications of Zayed's actions are significant. He promised his associates that he would handle the situation, and now it seems his brother is complicating things.

He hands the phone back to his man. "Get rid of her," he says, his voice cold and decisive. "No loose ends. Make it look like an accident."

The man nods grimly. "Understood, Sir."

Karim watches him walk away, his gaze hardening. He had hoped Zayed would handle this situation with the necessary detachment. It seems his brother's judgment is becoming clouded. He mutters to himself in Arabic, "Laisa jami'u al-ikhwa' mutasawiyin fil-hikmah." (ليس جميع الإخوة متساوين في الحكمة - Not all brothers are equal in wisdom).