Dubai pulsed with gold and glass as the sun began to set behind skyscrapers, casting long shadows over the bustling market below. Tourists moved like waves through the stalls, the scent of cinnamon, oud, and something grilled lingering in the air.
Emma walked through the heart of it all like she belonged there —
Head high.
AirPods in.
An iced coffee in her hand.
Black shades perched on her nose.
She wasn't sightseeing. She was vibing.
Unaware that she was seconds away from colliding with the most dangerous man in Dubai.
In one swift moment, her coffee cup slammed into something solid — a chest. A very expensive, very powerful chest in a tailored black Armani suit.
The cup hit the ground. Coffee splashed. Silence followed.
Before she could register what happened, two men in black suits closed in like shadows. One grabbed her wrist, voice sharp and cold.
"Girl, watch where you're going!"
Emma blinked — not in fear, but in sheer disbelief. Her lips parted in a scoff as she yanked her arm free.
"How dare you touch me?" she snapped.
The other man stepped forward, irritated.
"You bumped into him and now you're—"
"I would've said sorry," she cut in smoothly, "if any of you had given me a second to breathe."
The man still standing where she had crashed into him.
AREL DEMIR.
The most feared name in Dubai's underground. The kind of man people whispered about and never looked in the eye. Dressed in black on black, with a jaw sharp enough to wound and eyes so unreadable, they felt like a dare.
And now?
He was staring straight at her.
Not with anger.
Not even annoyance.
But... curiosity.
He took a step closer. His guards moved back immediately, as if his silence was louder than any command.
Emma didn't flinch. Didn't look away.
And neither did he.
"What's your name?" Arel asked, voice like velvet wrapped around a knife.
She tilted her head, the corner of her lip rising just slightly.
"Why?" she said. "Planning to have it embroidered on your new dry-cleaning bill?"
A pause.
A flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.
Then, a whisper — more to himself than her:
"Interesting…"
He turned without another word and walked toward his SUV, the coffee stain still cooling on his suit. The door opened, and he stepped in without glancing back again.
Emma stood still, heart thudding in her chest.
Then she looked at the crushed, empty cup by her feet and sighed.
"Great," she muttered.
"Now I have to buy another one."
She popped her AirPod back in… and walked away like nothing happened.
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TO BE CONTINUED...