Cherry Blossoms and Caffeine Flashbacks

Dubai’s winter sun was soft, but tension in the Al-Fayed estate was anything but.

Zara Al-Fayed was dressed like she was attending a Vogue cover shoot—an ivory silk jumpsuit, gold Louboutins, and enough highlighter to blind an aircraft pilot. Her walk was a strut. Aayan’s sister didn’t just enter a room—she colonized it.

Jasmine, on the other hand, wore an oversized yellow sweater with a cartoon cat on it and jeans that had clearly known better days. Her hair was up in a haphazard puff, curls rebelling in every direction. She was halfway through a samosa when she saw him.

Hiroto Tanaka. The elusive Japanese billionaire, Aayan’s longtime business partner, and strikingly handsome. Tall, sharp suit, steel-gray eyes, and a calm aura that screamed “I meditate while stock prices rise.”

Jasmine choked a little. “Why does he look like he’s never cried in his life?”

“He hasn’t,” Aayan said, overhearing. “He hires people to cry for him. It’s efficient.”