Hunted By Dubai

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW 

Work. Work. More freaking work.

It’s been three days since I left Dubai. Three whole days since Liam Foster. Since that night, I swore I’d forget. Since that night, I have told myself it was nothing but fun — a blurry, reckless, hot mess of pleasure and no-strings stupidity.

I’ve been trying to get my head back in the game. Trying to throw myself back into the only thing that’s ever made sense — work. But God, something keeps creeping back into the corners of my mind like a ghost that refuses to go away.

His voice.

His eyes.

The way he whispered into my ears.

Ugh. I needed to stop thinking about it. I was busy. I had contracts to review. A team to manage. Meetings to attend. Proposals are waiting for my signature. I couldn’t afford distractions. I was Seirra freaking Morgan, for goodness' sake.

Still…

It just kept creeping in.

Anyways, I had a meeting today with Lilac Limited Industries. It had been on my calendar for two weeks. I was meant to present some data and maybe finalize a new partnership with them. Big deal. Serious business.

But I canceled.

And that’s so unlike me.

The moment I got out of bed this morning, my whole body felt terrified. I was dizzy. Weak. My throat felt scratchy, and my stomach was doing all kinds of weird dances I didn’t sign up for.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was just exhaustion. Probably all the traveling, stress, lack of rest. I’d barely gotten a full night’s sleep since I came back. But the more I moved, the worse I felt.

Becca noticed first.

She always does.

“Are you okay?” she asked, peeking into my home office. “You look kinda pale, babe.”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving her off. “Just a little tired.”

Becca frowned and walked over. Pressed the back of her hand to my neck like I was a kid. “You’re warm. You sure you don’t have a fever?”

“I don’t have time to be sick, Becs.”

“Well, that’s too bad, ‘cause your body doesn’t give a darn about your calendar.”

Becca was already circling the living room like a hawk the moment I sat down with my wine. “Seirra, you look exhausted,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Seriously, you need to take a day off. Just one.”

I snorted. “Becca, I’m not sick. I’m fine. You sound like my mom.”

“No, I sound like your best friend who’s watched you power through three conferences, a 12-hour flight, and a million meetings this week,” she fired back. You look like you haven’t slept in days. When’s the last time you just... relaxed?”

I took a slow sip of my wine, trying to keep my cool. “Look, I don’t have time to relax. You know how much’s on my plate. If I stop, even for a day, everything starts falling apart.”

Becca gave me that look—the one that said she wasn’t buying any of it. “You’re not invincible, Seirra. You’re human. And humans get tired. You’re running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before something breaks.”

I sighed and put my glass down. “I don’t have time to break right now. My empire needs me.”

“Your empire will still be there tomorrow,” she said gently, pulling up a chair. “But if you don’t take care of yourself, there won’t be a tomorrow. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

I rubbed my temples. “I’m not empty. I’m just... focused.”

“Focused doesn’t mean ignoring your body.” Becca softened, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Please, Seirra. Take today off. No emails, no calls, no meetings. Just rest. For me.”

I looked into her eyes and saw nothing but concern and love. I hated admitting it, but maybe she was right. Maybe I was pushing too hard.

“Okay,” I said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “One day. No work.”

Becca’s face lit up, and she grinned like she’d just won a bet. “That’s all I ask. You deserve it.”

She was right, and I hated that she was right.

So I picked up my phone, cancelled the meeting with Lilac Limited, and rescheduled it for next week. My assistant was probably confused because I never move meetings. But right now, I couldn’t even keep my eyes open for ten straight minutes without feeling like I might drop.

Maybe it was the flu. Or some kind of cold. Or whatever it is people catch when their bodies are trying to force them to rest. I didn’t know.

But what I did know?

I hadn’t felt like myself since Dubai.

And no matter how hard I tried to shake it off, something about that trip… something about that night with Liam…

It was still haunting me.

I couldn’t even put my finger on it. I didn’t know what was wrong exactly. I wasn’t coughing or sneezing. I wasn’t puking. I just felt off — like my body was running on empty, like my bones were tired of holding me together. It wasn’t just stress. It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was something deeper… something strange.

And it was frustrating.

I hated not knowing what was wrong. I hated that I couldn’t slap a label on it and fix it with one of my thousand to-do lists.

Becca had been such a sweetheart, though. She kept fussing over me like I was some fragile porcelain doll about to crack. She had her own life now — booming, classy, rich. She deserved it.

After the media linked her to me, it was like boom — spotlight. Suddenly, the brands that didn’t even want to look at her were calling back-to-back. People were offering her deals, invites, endorsements. The girl was booked and busy. A whole multi-millionaire.

And she still made time to check on me.

“I have to head out,” she said that morning, slipping on her heels, adjusting her silk blouse like the boss babe she’d become. “I’ve got that shoot with Valentino today and then a dinner with the beauty brand peeps at four.”

“Go,” I said, pulling the blanket tighter around myself. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

Becca leaned down and kissed my forehead, her perfume soft and familiar. “If you need anything, call me. Or send a voice note. I’ll be in between meetings.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Lies.

But I needed to say it. I really need to.

She left, her heels clicking against the marble like confidence incarnate, and then there I was — alone. In my huge mansion that suddenly felt like a cage.

I sat there in my living room, arms wrapped around myself, staring at the glass windows like they had the answers. The house was dim and quiet, just like I liked it, but this time… it didn’t feel peaceful. It felt empty.

The air was too still.

My skin felt too hot.

And I couldn’t sit still.

I pressed the button on the little bell beside my couch, and one of the maids walked in.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Please bring me some painkillers. The strong ones.”

“Right away.”

She left and I leaned my head back, staring up at the ceiling like it might split open and give me a break. I was tired. Not just physically — but tired in my bones, in my soul. I felt like I was running and running and never arriving.

This wasn’t just stress.

Something was wrong.