19. DISPUTE

The air shifted into choking seriousness as Fahad ate his first morsel and let out the information.

"Joma have a request. He said not to let anyone let know you. Not even to reveal your real face." He stopped sensing Murad's eyes on him as he stopped eating waiting for his question.

"And why is that?" Hsi rapid hand movements made Fahad let out the next words much more explanation.

"Your revelation will make you target quick and easily. While when you will be in a disguise, they will try their best to find you and destroy you but won't be able to do anything. And that's was the mistake Joma did. He let slip his identity making someone from the team attack him."
Fahad finished his plate and leaned back on the couch making Murad twist his mouth.

"Every place has CCTV. The world developing." Sarcasm laced his feature as he leaned back with his hands resting on his thighs.

"Only Joma has answer to this question." Silence and the deepened between them as they talked more about the underworld.

~☆~

The private jet touched down smoothly on the runway, its engines whirring to a halt as the landing gears met the tarmac. Taliya stepped off the plane, followed by Haroon and their staff, each carrying the various pieces of equipment and luggage necessary for their trip. They had come to Goa to launch their late summer collection, and the air was thick with anticipation and fatigue.

Haroon had meticulously arranged every detail, including their accommodations at a prestigious hotel. As the group made their way through the bustling airport, they were greeted by a pre-arranged shuttle that whisked them off to their destination.

Upon arriving at the hotel, the grandeur of the lobby did little to ease the tension that had built up during their travels. The group approached the reception desk, where the same hostess who had greeted Murad earlier offered a bright but slightly strained smile.

“Welcome to our hotel. How may I assist you?” she asked, her eyes scanning the group before settling on Haroon.

“We have a reservation under Taliya’s name,” Haroon replied, handing over the necessary documents.

The hostess glanced at the papers and then at her computer screen, her smile faltering. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a reservation under that name.”

Taliya’s eyes narrowed. “There must be a mistake. We booked the rooms well in advance.”

The hostess shrugged, her demeanor turning dismissive, but she could feel the strong waves coming off from Haroon's behind. “I’m afraid there’s nothing here. Perhaps you should check with your travel agent.”
Her eyes roamed around everyone and then landing to Taliya's cold resting face. Cold horror struck her spine making cold sweat break on her spine.

Haroon stepped forward, his voice rising in frustration. “This is unacceptable. We have a major event to prepare for, and this is the last thing we need.”

Haroon's loud voice didn't scare her the way Taliya's face struck her.

The dispute grew louder, drawing the attention of other guests. Taliya’s patience wore thin as she watched the exchange, her temper simmering beneath the surface. She curled her fingers into a fist trying to her anger as she tilted her head and twisted her mouth into a pout.

Just then, the elevator doors opened, and Murad and Fahad stepped out. The scene unfolding before them was a chaotic mix of raised voices and exasperation. Murad’s gaze swept over the group, briefly landing on Taliya before he turned to Fahad, giving him a subtle nod to stay out of it.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Taliya strode to the front of the desk, her eyes blazing. “Enough of this,” she snapped, her hand reaching out to grip the hostess’s hair, yanking it in frustration. The hostess yelped in pain, her facade of professionalism crumbling.

“Alright, alright!” the hostess cried, trying to free herself from Taliya’s grip but her grip only tightened on her hairs making her let out a loud wince. “Ms. Hazel C.E.O of Za’al Clothings demanded that your reservation be canceled. She insisted it was a mistake.”

Taliya’s blood boiled at the mention of Ms. Hazel, a known rival. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she struggled to maintain her composure. “Give me the room key,” she demanded, her voice a low growl with her eyes trained on her face.

The hostess, trembled handing over the key card. Taliya snatched it and stomped toward the elevator, her anger palpable. Haroon and the rest of the staff followed, casting wary glances at Murad and Fahad.

Murad watched the scene with an impassive expression, his eyes briefly meeting Taliya’s before she disappeared into the elevator. He turned to Fahad, his voice calm. “Let’s go,” he said, leading him out of the building.

Inside the elevator, Taliya seethed. The events at the reception desk had been the last straw, and she couldn’t wait to get to her room and unwind. The doors opened to their floor, and Taliya stormed out, her heels clicking angrily on the polished floor as she headed toward her suite.

Once inside, she flung her bag onto the bed and collapsed into a chair, her mind racing. The confrontation had been exhausting, and the thought of Ms. Hazel’s interference only fueled her frustration. Taliya took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She had a job to do, and there was no time for distractions.

Meanwhile, in the lobby, the receptionist nursed her scalp, muttering under her breath about difficult guests. Murad and Fahad walked past her, their expressions unreadable. Murad’s thoughts, however, lingered on Taliya. He couldn’t help but wonder about the fire he had seen in her eyes and the reasons behind it.

As the night settled over Goa, the tension in the hotel remained, a silent undercurrent beneath the veneer of luxury and professionalism. Both Taliya and Murad had battles to fight, and it seemed their paths were destined to cross once more. But, Murad was sure Taliya's agression was nothing to be messed with.

"She was too aggressive." He whispered in trance making Fahad pull out a boring face.

"That was nothing compared to your anger. Wait, until your anger hits you and then you will be the one questioning, who you are?" Shoving his right hand into his pocket, he rounded the Mercedes Benz waiting for them as Joma waited in Old Goa for Murad and Fahad's arrival.