Chapter 5

Zahra sat across from Harry, watching his slender pale hands turn the pages of the book he was reading. They had retreated to a cozy café to escape the cold, as they now had a habit of doing even mundane things like reading and studying together. Anything to escape the places they usually had to be. Zahra had a secret fantasy that Harry Osborn was actually a prince, and that he was living it up in various countries instead of buckling down and getting serious about the duties that he must one day soon take over. It seemed to fit – he was impeccably mannered and well-groomed, had a constant attendant with him, resided in a hotel, had money to spend however he chose, seemed to have an invisible burden he carried… Harry sensed her looking and glanced up to catch her preoccupied expression that showed her thoughts to be elsewhere.

"Not liking your book?" he asked.

"Oh… I was just day-dreaming. Harry, random question: do you enjoy hanging out like this?"

His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Yes, I really do. It's just us and it's quiet – I'm totally content."

"I ask because we're so often doing things I would like to do, and I was wondering if there were things that you wanted to do as well. Like, what do you do for fun when you're in a new city?"

Harry shrugged. "Clubbing, I guess…"

"Alright, let's go clubbing then," she replied.

"Are you sure?" he was uncertain. So far, everything they had done had been much better than the usual club scene with the usual club people.

Zahra was undeterred. "Yes! I want to see what things you're into."

She smiled broadly and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. Zahra went back to reading her own book, but this time he kept his eyes on her.

The next night that they were both free, Harry and Zahra decided to check out what one of the hottest clubs in Berlin had to offer. Already an experienced club-goer, Harry wondered if it would be different seeing it through her eyes. Truth be told, however, he just wanted to see Zahra dance. Ever since catching sight of her dancing when she should have been working, he had been curious.

With Brady behind the wheel of the sedan, Harry came by her house to pick her up. Zahra must have been waiting, as she quickly came out of the house when the car approached, and carefully came down the lightly snowy path. Harry opened the door and she slid inside.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Well, I had an argument with my step-father and mother, but that's nothing new."

"No wonder you're eager to get going."

"Is it obvious?"

Harry grinned. "Don't worry about it."

She was still anxious. "Are you sure they're going to let me in the club?"

"You're with me, so they won't bother you. Besides, you don't look seventeen."

"That's not how I feel," Zahra murmured dejectedly.

Harry clasped her hand in one of his. "Hey, just breathe."

A few deep breaths eased the tension in her chest, and he could sense her relax a bit. When she made no move to withdraw her hand from his grasp, Harry realized that Zahra needed comfort more than she let on. He stole a look into her face and instantly recognized the presence of restraint – the nearly imperceptible strain of holding in the emotions, the frustration, the pain. He saw that in his own face whenever he caught his reflection. Tonight, however, her nervous energy was especially apparent. When they arrived at the club, at the VIP-exclusive entrance, Harry offered his arm and she accepted tremulously.

Once they were inside, the dramatic lighting and posh interior design prompted an awed gasp from Zahra. "This is where you come to have fun?" she asked.

"Yeah…" he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"It's like the kind of club that you imagine the rich and famous go to, but only exists in the movies."

Harry cast a side-long glance at her; she wasn't even implying anything with those words. Zahra really was ambivalent of his status.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

"Um… yes? I don't know what to have though."

"Something light, maybe. Gin and tonic with lime sound alright?"

"Sure," she replied and Harry ordered.

A part of her was whispering warnings of date rape drugs and related horrors, and suddenly she felt very foolish and vulnerable for being in that environment, in this position. She trusted Harry, but what if…? She stared at his boyish face, his intense eyes, his slender frame. Now was not the time to start questioning his integrity, even though she sensed that in his soul there was something he held back – something secret, maybe even something awful.

The next time that Harry glanced over at Zahra, the sudden change in her expression alarmed him – there was fear where there hadn't been moments ago. When their drink orders came and she hesitated before touching hers, he guessed at the source of her unease.

Casually taking her glass, Harry took a sip. "It tastes right," he gave his assessment. "If you want me to test your drinks tonight, just tell me."

He handed her the glass and she just stared a moment. By saying it, and yet not saying it, Harry addressed what was otherwise too sensitive to directly bring up; a born diplomat, it seemed. Sometimes it was as though he could hear her thoughts, knew what she was thinking or feeling. Maybe he could see inside her soul.

Eventually Zahra felt that she had mustered up enough courage to go down to the dance floor, and she told Harry that she wanted to try dancing. His eyes lit up, he was obviously pleased. Ever the gentleman, he stood and offered his hand. Once they reached the main floor, Zahra let her body start moving with the beat. She was so focused on the music, that when she finally met Harry's gaze she saw the sheer amazement in his expression.

"I had no idea you could dance like this!" he shouted into her ear to make himself heard.

Zahra just grinned back. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of her all night.

Brady sat with his cup of English Breakfast tea, going over correspondence for the Osborn heir, who was still asleep over in his suite. A particular notice caught his eye: tabloid reports that Harry Osborn was allegedly back at the club scene after a brief absence. There were only grainy shots of him leaving, so it wasn't anything scandalous. There was a girl with him, and though it wasn't possible to distinguish who it was from the photos, Brady knew that it was his friend, Zahra. Though Harry had managed to keep a low-profile for a while, the paparazzi never relented. It should not have come as a shock to anyone, since Harry had originally intended to indulge in Berlin's club scene to the full.

Meanwhile, Harry was just waking up after a rare good night's rest. His plush bed was ideally comfortable; the room was the optimum coolness while he was nestled in warmth; winter sunlight was filtering through the sheer curtains. Somewhere close by his phone chimed with a text alert. A smile spread across his face – simply knowing that Zahra was awake and saying good morning made things perfect in that moment. His phone chimed again and he felt around until he located it within the blankets, where it had likely slipped from his hands as he had fallen asleep.

He blinked at the unfamiliar name – it wasn't Zahra. Now more awake, he read the message and it became clear who the sender was. Perfect morning ruined. Harry flung off the blankets, shoved his feet into monogrammed slippers, and put on his robe as he marched out of his room and went over to Brady's suite. The personal assistant didn't look surprised to see the young man; he glanced up from his laptop and let his boss have the first word.

"Is my name in the tabloids?" he asked, cutting right to the chase.

"It appears so; it's not anything big, just a mention that you're back at the clubs."

"I just got a text from that girl I was seeing a little while ago, Cynthia." Harry passed his phone to Brady so that he could read the message for himself.

"It would seem that she missed you…a lot," he said, almost cringing.

"I thought I blocked her. She must have a new number. "

"Have you noticed anything suspicious when you and Zahra have been out?"

"No, I don't think so. Yet, I didn't notice the paparazzi either."

"This girl likely just feels a little jealous since you're out at the clubs without her." Brady paused a moment to contemplate. "Cynthia. This isn't the girl who made a scene in that restaurant, and at that function, is it?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Yes. She's the reason I left Italy."

In a flash of recollection, Brady remembered the model from a couple months ago. "I'll continue to monitor things."

"And please tell the hotel not to admit her, if they can. The last thing I need is her turning up in the hallway."

Harry stalked back to his suite and Brady took another sip of his tea. With Harry and Zahra having been out dancing several times recently, it wasn't too surprising that someone noticed. It was the persistence of this girl that was unsettling to the young man. The consequences of his actions were catching up with him, and he evidently wasn't liking the outcome.

Zahra went out of the front door and down the walkway as her stepfather was still hurling insults behind her. She didn't even bother to reply or even look back. This was just the latest addition to the ongoing strife between them. Confrontational, domineering, and vengeful – he expected have his way, get what he wanted, and have others to obey him. Zahra had always felt that her mother's second husband despised her because he couldn't control her as he did with other people. Or perhaps it was something as simple as him not liking that she looked different from the rest of their blended family with her darker complexion. She had just never felt welcome.

Whatever the case, Zahra was just counting the days until she was finished with her high school education, and was of age to move out and live on her own. She knew that she would be ready to take care of herself – she could shop for groceries, cook meals, keep a house clean and organized, manage her money, and work hard. The only thing she had to figure out was where to go.

As she was sitting on the U-bahn, it suddenly dawned on her how much she missed Harry. He had to go to France again for a few days for business related things, and they hadn't been able to talk or message much. She appreciated how he listened to her, and the way he respected her, and in so many ways took care of her. It wasn't until now that Zahra realized that she had been missing those things her whole life.