A/N - This chapter is a hot mess... let me know what you think.

Chapter 8

Coming back home from their Austrian ski trip had been a reluctant return to the daily grind for Zahra – schoolwork, part-time job, staying out of her family's way – and it often felt as though she was just passing the time until she could be with Harry again. Upon returning to Berlin, he too had obligations to fulfill, like attending a business conference in England. He also had to explain why no one had been able to reach him for days. Apparently, if his name hadn't shown up in the tabloids for a while, it was an oddity.

However, the moment either of them had free time, they were getting lost in libraries, exploring the countless galleries and museums, eating out everywhere, dancing, taking photos, going to shows – whatever Zahra and Harry could enjoy together. Brady had never known his job as personal assistant and often babysitter to be so peaceful, until one evening something caught his eye. He was picking up the pair from a rock concert at a small venue and had just closed the car door when he saw a man across the street with a zoom lens on his camera. Paparazzo, to be sure.

Brady was careful to watch for anyone tailing them as he drove Zahra home, and once he reached the hotel Harry had taken up residence in, his eyes carefully searched the surroundings, but he saw no one. It made him uneasy. Harry Osborn had an international reputation as an avid party-goer, always seen at the top clubs with the most stylish girls and getting into all sorts of trouble. His start on the legendary Berlin scene had been counted on as being spectacular, but then he had completely dropped off the radar and no one knew why.

Just before the ski trip, tabloids rumoured that Harry Osborn had a new girl; Harry had hoped some time away would shake the story, but even more photos and articles had cropped up since their return. Harry's ex was going to find him, and Brady dreaded the inevitable encounter.

It was a cold day. The wind had picked up by the afternoon, dropping the temperature into frigid territory and making the blowing snow feel like tiny icicles cutting one's cheeks. After some attempted sightseeing, Harry and Zahra ducked into a café, eager to warm up. Harry's gaze could barely be distracted from her, to the point that even Zahra noticed how attentive he was, though she was equally distracted by how his blue eyes sparkled every time he smiled. And that's when it happened.

"Harry Osborn," a feminine voice interjected.

He reacted as though zapped by static electricity and Zahra turned around to see who had full-named him. A tall red-haired woman stood there smirking.

"Cynthia, what are you doing here?" Harry choked out.

"Looking for you, of course," she purred. "You're a difficult man to get in touch with."

"That's because we have nothing to talk about," he replied coldly.

"Nothing? Well, only if you call humiliating me 'nothing,' but I can overlook that. Especially now that I've seen what has been taking up so much of your time…" Cynthia's gaze shifted to Zahra. "Please introduce your friend, Harry."

"Let's go," he murmured to Zahra, and stood to get their coats.

"Going to run away, Harry? That's just your style," Cynthia taunted.

She stepped in front of Zahra and stared her down. "He'll do the same to you – run away. He doesn't really care about you, he'll just take what he can get. But Harry will come back to me, because he always did. I was the only one who would take him back."

Harry grabbed Zahra's hand and they made a swift exit, walking quickly down the street. They could hear Cynthia in her heeled boots following them. Thankfully, a sedan pulled up and Brady motioned to them from the driver's seat – he had been circling the block for a parking spot when he got Harry's SOS.

"You can't run forever, Harry Osborn!" she shouted after them.

Once the car had moved rapidly from the scene, they collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Zahra glanced over at Harry and saw his expression stormy, his jaw clenched.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Harry was silent for a while, then abruptly said, "She's right though; she had me around her finger. And I can't hide the fact that I've slept with so many girls. I know you know that."

Zahra sat silent, her face flushed with embarrassment and anxiety. "Even so, Cynthia's not right about everything," she said quietly. "If all you cared about was sex, we wouldn't have spent so much time hanging out, or talking about personal things, or letting me see your flaws."

"I really did use those girls though."

"But you've never used me. We trust each other – that's what it means to be friends."

Harry suddenly felt strange – the last time he had had that sensation was when he was driving on a lightly snowy road and unexpectedly hit ice, the back end of the car stepped out and he wasn't sure that he would regain control in time. Friends? Of course they were friends. He hadn't been this close to someone since he lived in New York. But Zahra was more than a friend… He had barely acknowledged that thought before, as though just thinking it might ruin things, but now that it was out there everything could change.

Zahra suggested she take the S-bahn home, so that Harry could go over security with his assistant. Once she had been dropped off at a station, the already quiet sedan became stiflingly quiet. Harry caught Brady's glance through the rear view mirror and he heaved a sigh in response.

"Just say it," Harry said resignedly.

"A change in hotels might be in order."

"Not what I was expecting you to say, but no, I want to stay there."

"For the view?"

"Yes," he replied a little too quickly.

"She has the paparazzi onto you – there's a story in it for them."

"I know… I've seen them too."

"Are you alright?"

"That's what I was expecting you to start with." Harry sighed again. "I'm not sure."

Zahra flipped on the lights at her cleaning job, started the podcast she would be listening to, and got to work. She couldn't focus on the podcast though; granted, it wasn't too interesting either. It had been a couple days since that chaotic scene at the café between Harry and his ex-girlfriend, but she couldn't get it off her mind. She and Harry hadn't spoken much since then. Likely he was embarrassed, but he had been completely honest about it all. Zahra was conflicted because deep down she worried that Harry would withdraw, having revealed too much of himself.

Once upon a time she had been flippant and popular, and would have told Cynthia where to go. Now she doubted herself and felt completely outmatched by a worldly young woman who was used to commanding attention. Zahra was a nobody ex-pat with dreams of escape.

Despite trying to restrain herself from looking out the window to Harry's hotel, Zahra finally gave in and stood there gazing across to the other building. Suddenly, there was movement and a figure stood near the window; a light flicked on and she could see Harry. They waved at each other and a moment later his phone was ringing.

"How long have you been watching me?" Zahra asked when he answered.

"Since you got there. I've been awake all night," he replied.

"That's not creepy at all," she said with a bit of a laugh. "What's going on that you're not sleeping?"

"Cynthia. I haven't even gone anywhere for fear of running into her again. She's already been escorted from the hotel twice. I'm fairly certain she's paying off a photographer to keep tabs on me."

"That's crazy."

"Our break-up was really public; she's never going to forgive me for that."

Zahra peered at him through the glass, wishing she could see his face clearly.

"Hey, we said no secrets, so I have to tell you something," he continued. "I had the contents of the bar hauled out of my suite, but I still found an opened bottle sitting around and I've had a couple drinks. Also, I'm out of tea. I forgot to get more after we came back from Switzerland. Would you like to do some shopping with me tomorrow?"

"You mean later today?"

"Yes, right… Before sunrise doesn't feel like a part of the new day."

"I know, right? It's like this surreal time when reality doesn't apply."

"Well if that's so, then you're the best dream I could ever have," Harry replied.

Zahra laughed and Harry's stiff posture seemed to relax a bit. The awkwardness between them seemed to have passed.

"Try to get some sleep," she said, "and message me when you're ready to go out."

After a few days without incident, Harry and Zahra went out for some dinner and dancing. Getting dressed up always made for a sense of occasion, and they both enjoyed eating at different places. Tonight's restaurant, however, turned out to be remarkably busy.

"The reviews said this place was popular," Harry remarked, needing to speak loudly to be heard.

"But the photos looked like a laid-back lounge," Zahra shouted back.

"I can barely hear myself think, it's so loud in here. Brady hates places like this," he said with a laugh.

"What if we just get an appetizer, since we're already sitting?"

"Good idea."

Appetizers and small cocktails soon arrived, which they were happy to receive if it meant they could leave faster. Suddenly, Zahra noticed Harry seemed off – his usually pale complexion was flushed and he seemed giddy.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"I don't know. I feel kinda weird…" Harry got up and stumbled slightly. "I'll be right back.

Zahra's eyes fell upon his drink. He was drinking a gin and tonic, something even she could handle, and he hadn't finished it. Harry had already pledged to have no more than two drinks that evening, but out of nowhere he seemed drunk. Something was wrong. She dug her phone out of her purse and texted Brady, and then got up to see where Harry had gotten to. Maneuvering past crowded tables, Zahra made her way over to the restrooms. What she saw made her stop short.

Harry locking lips with a certain red-haired woman. She had her back against a wall and her hands gripped the front of his sports jacket, pulling him in. It was all Zahra could do to stare in horror. But then Harry pushed himself away from her, swaying precariously. Cynthia got hold of him and forced him back against the other wall, aggressively making out with him. This time he shoved her away and reeled from the scene, toppling to the floor.

Zahra rushed forward to try helping him up. "Harry, Harry look at me. I think you've been drugged."

Cynthia stepped over to them, wiping her fingers over her mouth. "I hope you saw how he came onto me just now."

"You did this to him!"

"Spike his drink? Absolutely. He publicly humiliated me when he dumped me in front of everyone. I'm just giving him what he deserves," Cynthia replied, a malicious smile on her face. "You have no idea how long I've waited to make a fool of Harry Osborn!"

By this time Harry was rapidly becoming less responsive and Zahra couldn't rouse him. A crowd was starting to gather at all the commotion. Brady was nowhere in sight. Zahra was on the verge of panicking.

Cynthia pulled out her phone and poised to take a selfie standing over his prone body like a game hunter, stiletto on his chest and all. The anxiety overwhelming Zahra evaporated, replaced by a surge of anger. With full strength she shoved the model, sending her crashing to the floor, then leapt on top of her, pinning Cynthia face-down on the floor, leaving her screeching and without a means of escape or further attack.

Amid the hollers from the crowd, suddenly Brady appeared with a couple other staff members and pulled the women apart. Taking command of the situation, he called for an ambulance and spoke with the police when they arrived on scene. Cynthia was on the verge of being arrested, but it was decided that charges would not be pursued because she cooperated. Harry would have to go to the hospital for tests. Paparazzi scurried off with photos that would hit social media before the hour was out.

Through it all Zahra kept her head down and stayed near Harry. Brady had ordered her not to speak to anyone aside from the authorities and paramedics, but there was nothing she could do to stop the embarrassing publicity. Cynthia had certainly achieved her goal.

Several hours later, Harry had been cleared by the hospital to go home. Though Brady appreciated Zahra wanting to be there to help get Harry back into his bed at the hotel, this wasn't the first time the personal assistant had to handle things on behalf of an incapacitated Mr. Osborn.

"I'll drive you home," Brady announced, once they had him settled.

"I would like to stay, if that's alright. The medics said we would need to keep an eye on him," Zahra replied. "Besides, it's the middle of the night and I'll disturb my parents if I go home now."

Brady gave her a look that expressed uncertainty. "They won't be worried that you didn't come home?"

"I texted them earlier. I said that a friend had to go to hospital and I was staying with them."

"Alright then." He looked over at Harry's unconscious figure. "There have been many nights I've had to sit up with him."

"I'm sorry about tonight. Things got totally out of control so fast. It was such a mess and there are going to be photos of everything…" Zahra cringed at the thought.

"You came to the defense of your friend – that's nothing you need apologize for. Harry will probably tell you that he brought this on himself. I know that publicity is going to hurt, but just ignore it; it will pass in a few days, a week at most. There's always something else that will come along and grab everyone's attention."

Zahra glanced back at Harry. Of course she would help a friend in need. Yet, seeing Cynthia kiss him stirred up feelings of stinging betrayal, perhaps even justifiable jealousy – not what she would be feeling if they were just friends.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling wretched and confused. He felt like he had been partying hard, but didn't remember anything from last night. The fact that he was lying in a recovery position – something he wasn't unaccustomed to – was not a good sign either. Sitting up and feeling his vision swim, his eyes focused on Brady dozing in a chair beside him. His assistant roused at the sound of movement.

"How are you feeling?" the older man asked.

"Like crap. What happened last night?"

"Long story short – your drink was spiked."

"What?! Wait, where is Zahra?"

"She's alright; she's sleeping on the sofa out there. We had to keep an eye on you, so she took the first shift."

"I'm going to shower," Harry said, dragging himself out of bed and taking along the bedside carafe of water.

"Please try not to pass out in there," Brady called out nonchalantly.

A solid half hour later Harry emerged feeling better, but still slightly fuzzy. He went out to the main living space of his suite and found Zahra still asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket. His mind went back to Austria and waking up beside her that one morning, her liquid brown eyes the first thing he saw… She stirred and he stepped away quickly so as not to be caught standing right over her and staring. He busied himself with making some tea and ordered some breakfast items through room service. By the time he was finished with that, Zahra was awake.

"Harry, I didn't think you would be up for a while yet," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. All I've been told is that my drink was spiked; I can't remember anything else."

"It was Cynthia. She had us followed to the restaurant, then she showed up and distracted the bartender so that she could slip something into your drink. Then you started acting strangely."

"Cynthia!" he exclaimed. "She wanted to get even with me, so I shouldn't be surprised; I guess I had it coming."

"It was awful. I found her making out with you."

Harry grimaced and looked embarrassed. "Zahra, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. In any case, I kinda hit her…"

"You what?!"

Zahra explained everything that happened; meanwhile, room service arrived and Brady came back from his room to eat with them and fill in Harry on the fallout of the incident. Maybe it was the drugs wearing off, but Harry felt unusually content. The three of them spent so much time together, it was like a strange little family; sometimes he and Zahra were the couple, sometimes they were the kids, while Brady was the ever-fluid valet, older brother, mentor, mother. What Harry wouldn't do to keep them close.