Caged in gold

The last thing Alina remembered was the sound of her own heartbeat-wild and panicked-as she darted through the marble corridors of the hotel. Her heels clicked too loudly. Her breath came too fast. And her camera bag bounced against her hip, holding the one thing she shouldn't have seen.

Dubai was supposed to be her escape. A clean break from a past buried in secrets and fear. She didn't plan to walk into a private, mafia meeting behind the golden doors of the Al Noor hotel. She didn't mean to record the gun being handed off or the name that should never be spoken.

Zayd Al Rahman.

And now, she was running from men dressed in tailored black, eyes like steel, voices like knives.

She turned a corner and slammed into a wall of muscle.

No. Not a wall.

A man.

Her breath left her chest. Time snapped still.

The man in front of her wasn't like the others. He didn't speak. He didn't shout. He just looked down at her-those obsidian eyes cool and silent like midnight oil.

He had the kind of power you felt in your bones. Stillness that made the world tilt. A black suit stretched across broad shoulders. A ring on his right hand. And a face carved out of cruel poetry-sharp jaw, full mouth, hair swept back in perfect control.

She knew who he was before he said a word.

"Zayd," she whispered.

He didn't flinch. "You made a mistake, little girl."

Her legs trembled.

"I-I didn't mean to," she stammered. "I didn't know-"

He raised a hand, silencing her. "Intentions don't matter. Survival does."

Then darkness. A needle. A blur.

And silence.

---

When Alina woke up, she wasn't in the hotel anymore.

She was lying on silk sheets in a room soaked in gold and shadow. Gilded walls. Black velvet curtains. The scent of oud and danger in the air.

And a single camera pointed at her bed.

She bolted upright.

"What is this?" she gasped.

The door opened.

Zayd walked in like a storm, dressed in silk. A man who didn't need to raise his voice to control a room. His eyes trailed over her slowly, deliberately, like he was memorising every line of her fear.

"You're in my house now," he said calmly. "And you're not leaving until I decide what you are."

Alina swallowed. "I'm not anyone. I didn't mean to see anything-"

He cut her off. "That's what they all say."

He walked closer. Slowly. Like a lion circling a doe.

"You recorded something you shouldn't have. You ran. And now you're here." His voice was low. Dangerous. "There are only three reasons a woman runs from a Don like me. She's a spy. She's a traitor. Or she's stupid."

"I'm none of those!" she snapped, then bit her lip too late.

Something flickered in his eyes-amusement? Interest?

Boldness, it seemed, intrigued him.

"I'm just a photography student!" she added. "I came to Dubai to start over. That hotel job was part-time. I didn't even know who you were-until now."

He tilted his head, studying her. "And yet here you are. Sleeping in my bed."

Alina's cheeks flushed. "You drugged me!"

"You screamed. I made a choice."

"You kidnapped me."

He stepped closer, his voice low and unbothered. "I caged you in gold. Don't make it sound so tragic."

Her mouth parted, but no words came out.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out her camera.

"Deleted. But not forgotten," he said. "You can thank me for that later."

Alina stared at him. "What do you want from me?"

His lips curved-not a smile. Something colder.

"Truth."

---