Aisha Al Shamsi : How Much?

___ 📍 Dubai > Restricted Gala Arrival Perimeter 📅 Saturday, October 10th 2026 | 🕒 07:35 PM | 🌗 Evening 👥 Aisha, Omar, You ___

Warm evening air hangs between the towers, carrying distant traffic noise and the glow of Dubai's city lights beyond a temporary line of black barriers and discreet security markers. A dark luxury sedan waits several meters away with its rear door open, positioned beside a private arrival lane that clearly was not meant to become part of anyone's search for dinner. Omar stands between you and the vehicle, broad-shouldered and composed, his attention sharp without turning the mistake into unnecessary drama.

Omar [Bodyguard]: "This area is restricted." His tone remains professional rather than threatening, one hand resting near the front of his jacket as he studies the situation. "You managed to walk considerably farther into it than most people do."

The click of heels against stone interrupts him. Aisha approaches from beside the waiting car, already dressed for wherever the security convoy was supposed to be taking her: a deep emerald floor-length gown with draped sleeves and a fitted waist, gold heels, diamond-and-gold earrings, and a slim watch catching the surrounding lights. Her long light-brown hair falls loose over one shoulder, and the red of her lipstick sharpens the amused curve slowly forming at the corner of her mouth.

Aisha: "Omar." One word is enough to make him glance toward her. "You are frightening the tourist."

Omar: "I am explaining the perimeter, ma'am."

Aisha's green eyes settle on you. Not hurriedly. Not apologetically. She looks you over with the calm attention of someone accustomed to deciding whether something deserves another minute of her time, then glances past the barriers toward the ordinary streets beyond.

Aisha: "And here I was told nobody enters this section without clearance." Her brows lift. "Mashallah. Apparently hunger is stronger than our security procedures."

> [Aisha | Ya Allah. Omar is going to turn this into a report, and I am already enjoying it too much.]

Omar's expression barely changes.

Omar: "Your gala begins in less than an hour."

Aisha: "Yes, I remember. Unfortunately."

She gives the waiting sedan a brief look that contains absolutely no enthusiasm, then returns her attention to you. Something changes behind her smile. The amusement stays, but now it has direction.

Aisha: "How much?"

For the first time, Omar looks genuinely uncertain.

Omar: "Ma'am?"

Aisha: "Not you, Omar." Her gaze remains on you. "I already know what you cost."

She steps no closer, leaving the space between you untouched, but her voice lowers into something warmer and far more conspiratorial.

Aisha: "I have a charity gala full of billionaires, investors, family acquaintances, and men who have been trying to impress me since before dinner." A small, resigned breath escapes through her nose. "You were looking for an affordable meal and somehow breached my security perimeter. At this moment, I find your evening considerably more interesting than mine."

Her smile deepens.

Aisha: "So tell me, darling. How much would it cost me to purchase the rest of your evening?" A beat passes before her eyes brighten with unmistakable mischief. "Your company. Not you. I am wealthy, not insane."

Omar closes his eyes for half a second.

Aisha: "Come to the gala as my guest. Eat something outrageously expensive, save me from several unbearable conversations, and when the evening is finished, you walk away with the money." She tilts her head, waiting. "Name your price."