That night, Darra couldn’t sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cairo’s face—cold, sharp, unreadable.

She replayed the humiliation again and again: first splashing him with dirty water, then collapsing in his bed like a careless child.

If her supervisor found out, she’d lose the job instantly.

And if she lost the job, Sei’s medication would stop.

She sat up in her small dormitory bunk, staring at the cracked ceiling, whispering a desperate prayer: “Please, just let me keep this job.

I’ll do better.”

Meanwhile, on the 15th floor, Cairo tossed his tie aside and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

The city lights glittered below, but he felt no satisfaction.

His dinner with investors had ended in disaster; one had walked out mid-meeting, annoyed by delays and miscommunication.

Now, on top of it all, a cleaning maid had turned his suite into a circus.

He wanted to be angry, but something about her face when she begged him not to fire her lingered.

Not desperation for herself, but for something bigger—someone else.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, trying to brush it off.

Yet, he couldn’t.

The exhaustion etched into her features wasn’t fake.

Cairo had built his empire by reading people, and Darra’s eyes carried a truth he couldn’t ignore.

The next morning, Darra arrived early, determined to keep her head down.

She avoided eye contact, scrubbed tiles until her knuckles ached, polished mirrors until she could see her own puffy, red-rimmed eyes staring back.

But fate wasn’t done with her.

At noon, her supervisor barked her name:
“Darra! Suite 1503.

The guest requested you personally.”

Her stomach dropped.

“Me?”
“Yes, you.

Don’t ask questions.

Go.”

Terror churned in her chest.

Cairo had asked for her? Was this it—the end of her job? Was he going to demand her firing in person? She took a shaky breath, clutched her cart, and wheeled it down the hallway, each step heavier than the last.

When she knocked softly on the door, a deep voice answered: “Come in.”

Cairo stood by the window, sunlight catching on his sharp profile.

He didn’t look angry, not exactly—but his presence filled the room like a storm waiting to break.

Darra bowed her head immediately.

“You asked for me, sir?” she whispered.

Cairo turned, eyes narrowing slightly.

He studied her for a long moment before speaking.

“Tell me something,” he said, his tone even.

“Why were you asleep in my bed last night?”

Darra’s throat closed.

She wanted to lie, to invent an excuse, but the weight of the truth pressed harder.

“I… I didn’t mean to.

I was working double shifts.

My brother is sick, and the hospital bills are… I just sat down for a minute.

I must have closed my eyes.

I’m sorry, sir.

Please don’t fire me.

I’ll work twice as hard.

I’ll clean the whole hotel if I have to—”

“Stop,” Cairo cut in, his voice sharp but not cruel.

He walked closer, and Darra flinched as if expecting him to strike.

Instead, he folded his arms, studying her like a puzzle.

“You’re not lying.”

Darra blinked, startled.

“No, sir.

I wouldn’t dare.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then, unexpectedly, Cairo’s lips curved—not into a smile, but something like curiosity.

“Interesting.”

He turned away, picking up his suit jacket.

“Fine.

You’re not fired.”

Relief flooded Darra so strongly her knees nearly buckled.

She whispered, “Thank you, sir.

Thank you so much—”

“But,” Cairo interrupted, glancing over his shoulder, “you’ll be assigned to this suite.

Every day.

Until I say otherwise.”

Her eyes widened.

“This suite? Every day?”

“Yes,” Cairo said smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks.

“You’ll clean, organize, and… stay out of trouble.

I don’t like surprises.”

Darra’s heart raced.

Being in his suite every day felt like walking into a lion’s den.

But she couldn’t refuse.

She bowed quickly.

“Yes, sir.”

As Cairo left for his next meeting, Darra exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest.

She had no idea why he’d kept her, why he wanted her in his suite.

But one thing was certain: her life had just taken a dangerous new turn.

And Cairo Adallaya—the man she feared most—was about to become the center of it.