"Here's your room, sir. I hope you don't mind the noise from the wedding hall," the manager said as he pushed open the door.
"It's fine."Zayaan nodded and dragged his trolley inside.
"Enjoy your stay."
The door clicked shut behind him and the hallway noise muffled to a distant hum. Zayaan dropped his bag by the entrance as his gaze sweeped over the suite. It was large with a king-sized bed draped in white linens, a sitting area with plush armchairs, and a faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air.
The receptionist had said there were no other rooms available, so he'd taken the first one offered — a suite in the wing attached to the wedding hall.
Not that it mattered. He'd only be here for a few hours. Just enough time to nap, shower, and figure out what the hell he was going to say to Eric.
Zayaan shrugged off his jacket, letting it slide to the floor in a crumpled heap. He took a step toward the bed, but then paused and a low groan slipped as he noticed the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his back. Damn it.
A low, muffled hum. That was the first thing Alizey heard before she felt cool droplets spattering against her cheek. Feeling shaky and disoriented, she forced her heavy eyelids open, the dizziness fading just enough for her to see the ceiling spinning lazily above her.
Her brow furrowed. What happened?
A tall, blurry figure loomed above her. Alizey blinked, her eyes struggling to focus. Who...?
"Hey, wake up." The unfamiliar male voice jolted her out of her frenzied state. She opened her eyes and a strangled scream tore from her lips. The man before her stepped back, his brows furrowed.
"Shut up!" The man shouted when Mahveen continued screaming, his voice sharp. The command hit her like a slap, and Alizey's scream died in her throat as she shrank back, pressing herself against the headboard while her fingers clutched the white blanket as if it could shield her from him.
"Who—who are you? Why are you in my room?" she stammered, her knuckles turning white against the fabric.
What was a stranger doing in her room? Where was her family? All kinds of thoughts swirled in Alizey's mind as she stared at the man standing before her in a bathrobe looking like some rich spoiled brat.
The man snorted while dragging a hand through his wet hair. "Your room?" He let out a bitter laugh before pointing a finger toward her, "Listen, I'm not really in the mood for games. Why don't you quit your award-winning act and tell me who you are and what the hell you're doing in my room?"
His room?
Alizey's anxious gaze darted around the space. Though the layout was similar, it wasn't her room. Unlike her suite which had been decorated with white and pink flowers, this room was cold and bare with no wedding decor in sight.
Ya Allah, was she kidnapped?
A wave of nausea rolled through her. What about her family? They must be searching for her. Would they even know where to look?
"Where am I? Why... why are you doing this to me?" Alizey's voice shook, each word catching in her throat. "I swear, I don't have anything valuable. Please... let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone."
Tears blurred her vision as the weight of her situation sank in and she tried to calm her panic-stricken mind, forcing herself to think of a way out.
But her pleading only earned a disbelieving scoff from the man. He unfolded his arms and stepped forward, his jaw tightened with irritation.
"Are you deaf, or did you not hear a single word I said?" he snapped. "Kidnapped you? Seriously? You're the one who rolled yourself into my room and onto my bed, and now you're accusing me of... what? Abducting you? I'm speechless."
"Then... why am I here?" she asked meekly, now confused at his words.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out too! Who are you, and how did you get into my room?" Zayaan's jaw clenched, frustration simmering beneath his words.
"I don't know... I was in my suite, getting ready, and then I... I was here..." Alizey's voice trailed off as she struggled to piece together the scattered fragments of memory finding it hard to believe the stranger word.
But she couldn't dwell on it for long as a sharp knock echoed through the room. Alizey's breath hitched, her gaze snapping to the door behind him.
The knock sounded again — louder this time. And then another, more forceful, until it turned into frantic banging. Zayaan's jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, irritation flashing across his face
Meanwhile her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the banging. Was she relieved or terrified? Alizey couldn't tell as the two emotions tangled together tightening around her chest like a vane.
Zayaan shot her a look of suspicion, before he turned and strode to the door without another word.
Still in disbelief over the absurdity of the situation, Zayaan yanked open the door and came to face a group of men dressed in crisp white salwar kameez, shawls draped over their shoulders, standing in the hallway.
Zayaan's jaw clenched. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice edged with annoyance having had enough disturbance for the day.
Instead of answering, one of the men shoved Zayaan aside and glanced inside the room, eyes narrowing as they landed on Alizey sitting on bed with disheveled hair and dupatta.
Before Zayaan could react, a fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his jaw and he staggered back as the taste of blood filled his tongue.