BY YOUR SIDE

12

CHAPTER 12

INGRID

The unexpected sight of Zayed standing in the presidential suite sends a jolt through her, a chaotic mix of surprise, a hesitant thrill, and a resurgence of the nervous energy she thought she had finally overcome.

Her professional script she had prepared to address a disgruntled guest vanishes entirely from her mind. Her heart begins to pound against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the sudden stirring within her.

It has been weeks since his brief phone call, weeks of consciously trying to bury the memory of his intense gaze and the unsettling connection they shared. Now, here he is, unexpectedly back, filling the space with his imposing presence.

A ghost of a smile touches his lips, a subtle curve that sends a shiver down her spine. He looks different, less guarded than she remembers, though the air of authority that surrounds him remains undeniable.

"Ingrid," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a warmth spreading through her despite her nerves. "I was hoping to see you."

Her mind races, trying to reconcile the powerful, enigmatic figure before her with the memory of the man who had held her captive and yet offered her this extraordinary opportunity.

"Mr. Al-Fayed," she manages to say, her voice a little breathy, a stark contrast to the professional tone she had intended. "I…I was told there was a guest complaint?"

Zayed takes a step closer, closing the distance between them, and the air in the room seems to crackle with an unspoken energy. "The only complaint I have is that I have not seen enough of you since I returned to Cape Town."

A blush creeps up her neck, a warmth spreading across her cheeks. She lowers her gaze for a moment, trying to regain her composure. His directness catches her off guard, stirring a flutter of something akin to excitement within her. "You are back in Cape Town?" she asks, finally meeting his eyes again, a question and a hint of hopeful surprise in her tone.

"I am," he confirms, his gaze softening slightly as he observes her reaction.

"The operational issues I mentioned required my personal attention." His eyes flicker over her, taking in her smart uniform, the way she holds herself with a newfound confidence. "You seem to be settling in well."

"Yes," she replies, a genuine smile finally breaking through her initial nervousness. "I am enjoying the work. Thank you for this opportunity."

A longer silence stretches between them, filled with a silent acknowledgment of the unusual circumstances that brought them to this point. The formal address feels awkward now, the professional distance suddenly too vast.

"Ingrid," Zayed says again, his voice softer this time, a hint of something more personal in his tone. "Perhaps we could discuss this 'guest complaint' over dinner? Away from the hotel?"

Her heart leaps at his suggestion, a thrill of anticipation overriding her lingering apprehension. The thought of spending time with him outside of the formal setting of the hotel, away from the watchful eyes of the staff, sparks a nervous excitement within her.

"Dinner?" she repeats, a small, hopeful smile playing on her lips.

Zayed's eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, a genuine smile finally gracing his features. "Yes, Ingrid. Dinner. Unless, of course, you have other plans for your Friday evening?"

A wave of giddiness washes over her, a stark contrast to the weariness she had felt just moments before. "No," she says, her smile widening. "No other plans."

The thought of a quiet weekend at the cottage with her mother suddenly pales in comparison to the unexpected invitation from the enigmatic man standing before her. The encounter that began with fear and uncertainty now holds the promise of something entirely new.

"Excellent," Zayed says, his gaze holding hers, a warmth radiating from his eyes that makes Ingrid's heart flutter. "How soon can you be ready?"

He glances at his watch, a sleek, expensive timepiece that underscores the difference in their worlds. "Say, in an hour? That should give you enough time."

She nods quickly, a surge of excitement coursing through her. An hour feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Yes, an hour. That will be fine." Her mind races, already picturing the possibilities of this unexpected evening.

"Perfect," Zayed replies, his smile widening slightly. "Meet me just outside the main entrance of the hotel. And Ingrid," he adds, his tone softening, "dress comfortably. We are not adhering to hotel formalities tonight."

His words hint at a more relaxed, personal encounter, further fueling Ingrid's anticipation.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieves his phone, tapping a few keys. "I will inform Mr. Davies that you are no longer on duty for the rest of the day. Consider it an early start to your weekend."

His casual dismissal of her work obligations showcases his authority and his desire for her undivided attention.

A wave of gratitude washes over her. Not only is he offering her dinner, but he is also relieving her of her duties, freeing her from any lingering professional responsibilities.

"Thank you, Mr. Al-Fayed," she says, her smile genuine and radiant.

"Zayed," he corrects gently, his eyes meeting hers with an intimate intensity. "After what we have been through, and hopefully what tonight will bring, I think 'Zayed' will suffice."

His words create a sense of intimacy, blurring the lines between employer and something more.

"Zayed," she repeats softly, the sound of his name on her lips feeling both unfamiliar and strangely right. A nervous excitement bubbles within her, the reality of spending an evening alone with this powerful, enigmatic man sinking in.

"I will see you outside in an hour, then, Ingrid," Zayed says, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turns and walks towards the suite's door.

He pauses briefly, looking back at her with a final, captivating smile before he exits, leaving her standing in the grand presidential suite, her heart pounding with anticipation and the thrilling uncertainty of what the evening might hold.

The thought of her previously planned quiet evening with her mother fades into the background, replaced by the alluring prospect of an evening with Zayed.

*

*

*

A nervous energy bubbles within Ingrid as she bids farewell to Zayed, the prospect of their evening together filling her with a mixture of exhilaration and a touch of apprehension.

She gathers her handbag, a small clutch that suddenly feels inadequate for the unknown possibilities of the night ahead. Leaving the grand presidential suite, she makes her way down to the staff areas, a small lie already forming on her lips.

The walk to the staff cottages, nestled at the far end of the hotel grounds, takes no more than three minutes, but Ingrid's mind races with the swift turn of events. Just an hour ago, she was anticipating a quiet Friday evening with her mother, perhaps catching up on her studies.

Now, she is preparing for an unexpected rendezvous with the man who holds such a significant, albeit complicated, place in her life.

She enters the cozy two-bedroom cottage, the familiar scent of lavender and her mother's presence a comforting anchor amidst her swirling emotions. Her mother sits in her favorite armchair by the window, a book resting in her lap. "Ingrid, you are home early, my child," she says, her gentle blue eyes filled with a hint of surprise. "Was your day short?"

Ingrid forces a casual smile. "Not exactly, Mama. There is a sudden conference happening at the hotel tonight. For some of the guest relations staff. It is supposed to go on for a few hours."

The lie feels clumsy, but her mother, accustomed to the unpredictable nature of the hospitality industry, accepts it without question.

"Oh, I see," her mother replies, nodding slowly. "Well, you go and do what you need to do, my dear. I will be here, reading."

Ingrid feels a pang of guilt at the deception, but the allure of the evening ahead is too strong to resist. "I will probably be quite late, Mama," she says, heading towards her bedroom. "I will see you whenever I am done."

Inside her room, a flurry of nervous activity ensues. She discards her smart work attire, her mind replaying Zayed's words: "dress comfortably."

She pulls out a pair of her favorite black jeans, soft and well-worn, and a simple black t-shirt. A black leather jacket, a recent purchase she had splurged on with a portion of Zayed's unexpected gift, completes the outfit, adding a touch of edgy confidence she doesn't entirely feel.

Finally, she slips on her comfortable sneakers, practical footwear for an evening where she has no idea what to expect.

Looking at herself in the small mirror, Ingrid feels a mix of anticipation and a tremor of uncertainty. She likes the way she looks, a departure from her usual demure style, a subtle nod to the unknown adventure that awaits.

Yet, a part of her wonders how this night will unfold. Will it be a formal dinner, a casual outing, or something else entirely? The possibilities both excite and slightly intimidate her.

Taking a deep breath, she grabs her small clutch, her phone buzzing with a message from Zayed:

"Outside when you are ready." A nervous flutter erupts in her stomach. This is it. She offers her mother a quick, albeit slightly rushed, goodbye. "See you later, Mama," she says, her voice a little too bright.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, the hotel lights casting a golden hue on the manicured gardens, Ingrid walks towards the main entrance, her heart thrumming with a blend of anticipation and nervous excitement.

Instead of a car, a sleek, powerful motorbike idles near the entrance, its engine emitting a low, resonant purr. He leans against it, dressed in all black leather that accentuates his broad shoulders. The sight of him on the bike, a huge difference to the formal attire she usually associates with him, sends a fresh wave of surprise through her.

He straightens as he sees her, his dark eyes sweeping over her black jeans and leather jacket, a slow smile spreading across his face. He holds out a black helmet towards her.

"Perfect look for this night," he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the evening air. "And you smell wonderful." His direct compliments make a blush rise to her cheeks, a mixture of shyness and a giddy pleasure.

Ingrid reaches for the helmet, her fingers brushing against his. The simple touch sends a surprising spark through her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her gaze meeting his.

Zayed gestures towards the seat behind him on the motorbike. "Hop on," he says, his eyes twinkling with an almost boyish charm that she hasn't seen before. "Tonight, we ride."

This unexpected mode of transportation, the casual intimacy of sitting close behind him, feels like a departure from the constraints of their previous encounters. She carefully puts on the helmet, the visor momentarily obscuring her view before she adjusts it.

Taking a deep breath, she swings her leg over the back of the motorbike, settling onto the leather seat behind him, her arms instinctively reaching to hold onto his waist. The feel of his leather jacket beneath her hands sends a shiver of anticipation through her.

"Hold on tight," Zayed says, his voice a low murmur that she can hear clearly through her helmet. With a final glance back at her, a smile playing on his lips, he revs the engine, the powerful machine roaring to life beneath them.

And just like that, they pull away from the grand facade of The Royale Hotel, Ingrid holding onto Zayed as they disappear into the vibrant night of Cape Town, the cool wind whipping around them, carrying with it the thrilling promise of the unknown.