Chapter 343

Chapter 343
Alexander

I watched the street performer's flaming torches arc through the night sky, each rotation perfectly timed to the pulsing electronic music. The crowd around him had grown, phones held aloft, capturing the spectacle.
"Very impressive, yes?" A voice beside me, thick with an Arabic accent.
I glanced over. An older man with weathered hands and kind eyes, watching the performer with genuine appreciation.
"Very," I agreed.
"First time in Dubai?"
"No, been here several times. Business."
He nodded knowingly. "Always business with you Americans. Never pleasure."
I couldn't help but smile. "Sometimes they overlap."
"Ah, you are learning then." He gestured toward the marina. "Beautiful night for walking. City is alive."
"It is."
The performer caught his torches in a final flourish, bowing as the crowd erupted in applause. People dispersed quickly, moving on to the next attraction, the next experience.
I continued walking along the causeway, letting my feet carry me without a particular destination in mind. The marina stretched ahead, yachts bobbing gently in their slips, worth more collectively than some small countries' GDP.
A restaurant caught my eye, its patio filled with diners enjoying late meals. Music drifted out, something with a driving beat that made people nod along unconsciously. I kept moving.
Past the marina, the shopping district rose up, glass storefronts gleaming under strategic lighting. Most were closed for the evening, but a few luxury boutiques remained open, catering to wealthy tourists who kept odd hours.
I paused in front of a couture shop, its window display showcasing evening gowns. One dress in particular stopped me cold.
Midnight blue silk, almost black in certain light. The neckline was elegant without being conservative, cut to showcase collarbones and the graceful line of a woman's neck. The fabric draped in a way that suggested movement, like water flowing over skin. Sophisticated, timeless, with just enough edge to be interesting.
Perfect for Olivia.
Before I could overthink it, I pushed through the door.
A sales associate materialized immediately, her smile professional but warm. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to Maison Laurent."
"That dress in the window," I said, pointing. "The midnight blue."
"Excellent choice. It just arrived from Paris yesterday." She moved toward the display with practiced efficiency. "Would you like to see it up close?"
"Yes. And I need it shipped to Los Angeles."
Her smile never wavered. "Of course. Let me retrieve it for you."
She disappeared into the back, leaving me alone in the pristine showroom. Everything was white and cream, the clothes providing the only color. Racks of designer pieces lined the walls, each garment more expensive than the last.
The associate returned carrying the dress on a padded hanger, the silk catching light as she moved. Up close, it was even more stunning. The fabric had depth, subtle variations in shade that created dimension.
"The designer calls this color 'midnight ocean,'" she explained, holding it up for my inspection. "The silk is from Lyon, hand-dyed in small batches."
I reached out, testing the fabric between my fingers. Butter soft, with just enough weight to drape beautifully. "I'll take it."
"Wonderful. What size?"
I provided Olivia's measurements, rattling them off with the kind of precision that made the associate's eyebrows rise slightly.
"Your wife is very fortunate," she observed.
"I'm the fortunate one." The words came out automatically, but I realized I meant them.
She folded the dress carefully in tissue paper. "Shall I show you our other pieces while I prepare this for shipping?"
"Actually, yes." I followed her deeper into the store. "She'll need more than just the dress."
For the next hour, I worked my way through the boutique with the kind of focused intensity I usually reserved for business deals. A cream silk blouse that would look incredible with her work pants. A cashmere wrap in deep burgundy. A pair of tailored trousers that struck the perfect balance between professional and devastating.
"You have excellent taste," the associate said as the pile of selections grew. "Most men struggle with women's fashion."
"I know what works." I held up a jacket, considering the cut before adding it to the stack. "And what she likes."
"That's rare." She smiled approvingly. "Most of my male clients need extensive guidance."
I found a cocktail dress in emerald green, shorter than the blue one but equally elegant. The neckline was more daring, cut lower. My mind immediately supplied an image of Olivia wearing it, and I added it to the pile without hesitation.
"Is this everything?" the associate asked.
"Not quite." I spotted a display case near the register, delicate jewelry arranged on velvet. "Those earrings. The sapphires."
She retrieved them carefully, holding the case so I could examine them properly. Teardrop sapphires surrounded by small diamonds, elegant without being ostentatious.
"These arrived from our Paris location last week. One of a kind."
"Perfect." I pulled out my credit card. "Everything ships to Los Angeles."
She rang up the total without flinching, though the number made even my wealthy sensibilities pause briefly. Worth it, I decided. Every piece was exactly right.
While she processed the transaction, I wrote out the address, making sure the spelling was perfect.
"These will ship tomorrow morning," the associate assured me. "Express delivery, should arrive in Los Angeles within two to four days."
"Excellent. Thank you for your help."
"My pleasure, Mr. Carter." She handed me a receipt. "Please come back if you need anything else."
Back outside, the night air felt cooler than before. I checked my watch. Nearly midnight. The shopping district was quieter now, most stores dark, only a few restaurants and bars still serving.
I walked aimlessly for a while, my mind drifting between work and Olivia and the strange limbo of being away from Los Angeles. Away from home.
A coffee shop was still open, its warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. I went inside, ordering an espresso despite the late hour.
"Americans," the barista said with a grin. "Always coffee, no matter what time."
"Guilty as charged."
I took my espresso to a table by the window, watching occasional pedestrians pass by. Most walked in pairs or groups, laughing and animated. A few solo travelers like myself were probably also dealing with jet lag and restlessness.
The coffee was strong and bitter, exactly what I needed. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through emails I'd been ignoring. Nothing urgent, just the usual flood of updates and requests that could wait until morning.
I finished the espresso and headed back toward the hotel, the long walk helping clear my head.
The Burj Al Arab rose before me, its white facade glowing against the dark sky. The causeway stretched ahead, water lapping at the supports below.
Inside, the lobby was quieter now. Most guests had retreated to their rooms or were out exploring Dubai's nightlife. I nodded to the night manager and headed for the elevator.
The suite felt different at night, shadows softening its opulent edges. Less ostentatious somehow, more like an actual place where someone might live.