The car moved quietly through the Miami streets, the city lights sliding across the tinted windows like passing ghosts. My driver focused on the road while the two bodyguards sat across from me, silent as statues. They never asked questions. That was part of their job.
Yet my mind refused to stay quiet.
Something bothered me.
No… someone.
Zelda.
I leaned back against the leather seat and exhaled slowly. The first time I met her, I truly hadn't meant to disrespect her. To me it had been nothing more than a careless joke, the kind of arrogance I'd grown used to getting away with. But the look on her face that day—sharp, humiliated, furious—had stayed with me longer than I expected.
I should have known better.
Especially because of what I am.
People like me didn't get the luxury of harmless mistakes. Everything I did carried weight. Reputation. Headlines. Judgment.
And yet, she was impossible.
Hard-headed. Proud. Always ready to fight back.
I found that… interesting.
"We've almost arrived at the hotel, sir," the driver said.
My eyes drifted to the window again.
That guy with her at the party.
Danilo.
Something about him had felt off. The way he looked at her. The way he grabbed her arm like he had some claim over her.
But it wasn't my place to get involved.
Everyone had their own version of love.
Mine was… complicated.
The media loved pairing my name with Aaliyah's. The "Dubai biker prince" and the Kuwaiti oil heiress. A perfect headline.
But the truth was less glamorous.
Aaliyah and I weren't a couple.
We were convenience.
She was the person I called when I wanted distraction, when the world became too loud or too empty.
And after tonight—after dealing with the most stubborn girl in school—something restless had stirred inside me.
So I called Aaliyah.
The car rolled smoothly to a stop in front of the hotel entrance.
My guards stayed inside. They knew better than to follow.
Some parts of my life were private.
Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of polished marble and expensive perfume. The receptionist barely looked up when I checked in; they already knew me here.
My usual room.
When I opened the door, she was already there.
Aaliyah stood near the bed, leaning casually against the headboard like she had been waiting all night. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and her smile carried that familiar confidence she had always had.
I'd known her since second grade.
Her father owned one of the largest oil companies in Kuwait. Our families crossed paths constantly. Growing up around each other had made things… easy.
Too easy.
"Hey, babe," she said softly.
She stepped toward me, eyes glimmering with amusement.
"When did you get here?" I asked, loosening my jacket and tossing it aside.
"Right after you called," she replied.
The room felt warmer now.
She closed the distance between us without hesitation, her fingers sliding lightly along my arm as if she already knew how the night would unfold. Aaliyah had always been confident in that way—effortlessly seductive, never unsure of herself.
Sometimes I wondered if that confidence was the reason I kept coming back.
Or maybe it was simply familiarity.
I drew her closer, and she laughed quietly under her breath.
"You seem different tonight," she murmured.
"Do I?"
"Distracted."
For a brief second, Zelda's face flashed across my mind again.
Annoying girl.
I pushed the thought away.
Aaliyah's hands moved to my shoulders, guiding me toward the bed as if she already understood the unspoken rhythm between us. The city lights outside flickered across the room, casting soft shadows along the walls.
Her voice lowered to a whisper near my ear.
"Whatever it is," she said, "forget it for tonight."
And for a moment… I tried.