Chapter 342

Chapter 342
Alexander

The afternoon stretched on as I dove deeper into research. Competitor analysis, market positioning, growth opportunities. By five PM, my eyes were burning from staring at spreadsheets.
I closed the laptop and walked to the windows. The Persian Gulf sparkled under late afternoon sun, boats cutting white trails across the blue water.
I changed into workout clothes and headed down to the hotel gym.
The space was all mirrors and chrome, state-of-the-art equipment arranged with geometric precision. A wall of windows overlooked the Persian Gulf, now dark except for boat lights dotting the water.
I started with weights, working through sets of shoulder presses while CNN played on mounted screens. The familiar burn in my muscles felt good, grounding. Physical exertion had always helped me think.
The Al-Rashid brothers occupied my thoughts as I moved to chest presses. Khalid's skepticism was expected, but his questions were intelligent and probing. He cared about legacy, not just profit margins. That was promising.
Omar himself was the key. Win him over, and his sons would follow.
I switched to the treadmill and set a punishing pace. My reflection stared back from the mirror wall. I increased the incline and pushed harder. The burn in my legs matched the one in my chest when I thought about the empty suite upstairs.
Forty-five minutes later, I was drenched in sweat and significantly more centered. I grabbed a towel and wiped down the equipment before heading to the locker room.
The shower was scalding, exactly what I needed. I stood under the spray until my muscles relaxed and my mind finally quieted.
Back in my suite, I ordered room service: grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, something green and healthy that Chef would approve of. I ate on the balcony, watching Dubai's lights twinkle against the dark sky.
The city was beautiful in its own way. All that ambition made concrete and glass, rising from desert sand through sheer force of will.
But it wasn't Los Angeles. Wasn't home.
I finished eating and changed into jeans and a button-down. Sitting in this suite all evening would drive me insane. Time to explore.
The lobby was quieter now, the evening crowd having dispersed to various restaurants and clubs. I nodded to the concierge as I passed, pushing through the glass doors into the humid Dubai night.
The artificial island felt surreal beneath my feet as I crossed the causeway connecting the hotel to the mainland. Water lapped at the supports below, black and infinite. City lights sparkled in every direction, creating a false constellation against the dark sky.
I walked without a destination, letting muscle memory guide me through familiar streets. The financial district rose ahead, all glass towers and ambitious architecture.
A group of tourists posed for photos in front of a fountain, their laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings. I skirted around them, heading deeper into the business sector where restaurants catered to executives and late-night workers.
The smell of grilled meat and exotic spices drew me toward a shawarma stand tucked between two office buildings. A handful of construction workers clustered around plastic tables, their conversations rapid-fire Arabic punctuated by occasional laughter.
"Good evening, sir." The vendor gestured to his menu board. "What can I make for you?"
"Lamb shawarma. Extra garlic sauce."
"Excellent choice."
I leaned against the counter while he worked, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. The sizzle of meat on the grill mixed with traffic sounds and distant music from a nightclub down the street.
"First time in Dubai?" the vendor asked, wrapping the shawarma in paper.
"No, been here several times for business."
"Ah, businessman." He handed over the wrapped sandwich. "You work very hard, I think. Always working, never enjoying."
I paid him, accepting the food with a slight smile. "Something like that."
"Life is short, my friend. Work is important, yes, but so is living."
"Wise words."
"Cheap wisdom." He grinned. "That one is free. Next time you pay extra."
I laughed despite myself, biting into the shawarma as I continued walking. The flavor exploded across my tongue, garlic and spices perfectly balanced.
The financial district gave way to the marina area, where yachts lined the docks like expensive toys. The walkway was relatively empty; most people congregated at the restaurants and bars overlooking the water.
I found a bench facing the marina and settled in to finish eating. The shawarma was gone embarrassingly fast, and I crumpled the paper wrapper, tossing it in a nearby bin.
A couple strolled past, holding hands and speaking softly in French. They looked young, carefree, completely absorbed in each other. The woman laughed at something her companion said, her face lighting up.
I looked away, suddenly feeling like an intruder on their private moment.
Further down the walkway, I spotted a bookstore still open despite the late hour. The windows glowed invitingly, displaying Arabic and English titles in artful arrangements.
Inside, the air conditioning was a welcome relief from the humidity. Rows of shelves stretched toward the back, organized by language and genre. A few other customers browsed quietly, lost in their own worlds.
I wandered through the business section first, scanning titles I'd probably already read. Then philosophy, history, and fiction. My fingers trailed along book spines, not really looking for anything specific.
"Can I help you find something?" A clerk appeared at my elbow, young and eager.
"Just browsing."
"We have an excellent selection of business books, if you're interested. Also, new fiction arrivals from America and Britain."
"I'll let you know if I need anything."
He nodded and retreated, leaving me to my aimless exploration. I pulled out a biography of some long-dead industrialist, flipping through pages without really reading them.
What was I doing here? Wandering the Dubai streets alone when I could be back in Los Angeles with Olivia, probably annoying her while she worked on Cornerstone materials.
I replaced the book and moved to the travel section. Coffee table books displayed stunning photography from around the world. Iceland, Peru, Thailand, and New Zealand. Places I'd been for business but never really seen.
"That one is beautiful," an elderly woman said beside me, pointing to a book about the Scottish Highlands. "I went there once, many years ago. The photographs don't do it justice."
"Is that right?"
"Nothing compares to standing on those cliffs, feeling the wind, smelling the heather." Her eyes grew distant with memory. "You should go if you get the chance."
"Maybe I will."
She smiled and moved away, leaving me holding the Scotland book. I flipped through images of dramatic landscapes, ancient castles, and mist-covered lochs. It looked cold and beautiful and completely unlike anywhere I'd been recently.
I bought the book on impulse, letting the clerk wrap it carefully before sliding it into a paper bag.
Back outside, the night had deepened. More people filled the walkways now, the evening crowd emerging for dinner and entertainment.
A street performer had set up near the causeway, juggling flaming torches while music blasted from a portable speaker. A small crowd gathered, phones out to record the spectacle.