In his apartment

Ibrahim drove up to a small apartment complex, at least small compared to other properties. While those at the highest-ranking got to live in estates that could fit 50 mansions, Ibrahim had to make do with a single apartment. But this was luxury compared to where the poor lived. To him, it was enough.

He parks the car in the garage. He puts his hand on the door's handle but before he could open it, Ari grabs his arm.

"I still don't know about this," she clamors, "this sounds like a bad idea."

"Ari, I told you. Just relax. Nobody has to know you're a slave."

"But I'm supposed to be at the hotel by 9."

"It's not too far from here, I'll even drive you."

"But still... what if people think..."

Ibrahim puts his right hand on top of her trembling left, "let them think whatever they want. You are just a guest."