𝓢crambling to get to the camera application on my phone, I swiped to record the whole conversation.

"Let's hope they don't back out..."

"They won't. They've provided the funds," I shuffled closer, trying to capture the faces, my hand outstretched, the phone held by the very tips of my fingers. I tipped forward slightly as my heart exploded against the front of my chest, the force of the revelation making me sway.

"I can't wait to see the look on the beast's face when he realizes that someone cut off his legs from underneath him."

"Would serve him right," he said roughly in agreement.

"I'll let him know that you've done the job on your end. Thanks for the tip. We'll move the timeline to the second quarter," I somehow heard him speak over the pounding of my heart, and then turn away, giving me the back of his head, blocking out the face and shape of the other man responsible. Anger surged and I sank my teeth into my lip until I tasted blood before drawing it into my mouth and sucking. They nodded at each other and left, leaving me standing unnoticed in the shadows.

I had to find Taimoor.

Turning on my heel I looked around for my husband, who seemed to have been herded into a group of eager men waiting to get their turn with him, a non-existent spotlight shining over him. As if sensing my appraisal, Taimoor scanned the crowd and when he spotted me, I felt a frisson of energy shimmer over me. He didn't look delighted. He looked... hungry. Time slowed down to the glimmer in his eyes, the turning of his shoulders, and the slight tilt of his head. The corner of his mouth inched up. And it felt...intimate. Like we shared a dirty secret. Like I was the one he would share all his secrets with.

Was there anything sexier than long looks across a crowded room where everyone else just melted into the background? Was there anything better than knowing that there was someone in the room that was waiting for you? My cheeks heated and desire revved to life. It made my head feel light and my knees feel weak.

He picked up on it and those unfairly melancholic eyes lit up with a spark.

"Mrs. Mughal."

Blinking rapidly to break Taimoor's gaze, I focused on the impeccably dressed man in front of me. Had he snuck up on me? How did I not see him approach me? It was hard to shift gears between being unreasonably turned on and being blindsided by an unexpected associate.

"Mr. Talpur."

His jaw ticked, but he remained impassive, nodding in greeting. "Please call me Badar."

There was no way I was calling him that. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Thought I'd drop by to support the cause," he flashed his unnaturally white teeth. His black Armani suit was tailored, and his Rolex polished to match his loafers. Even now, dressed to the nines, he looked rough around the edges. With his father's jaw and his mother's eyes, he had his street boy tan. His bow tie was knotted, tight against the open collar of his shirt. His mane was cropped at the collar, just rounding off into the shirt.

"Well, it was lovely to see you."

"I was hoping to run into you."

"Is that so?"

"I wanted to appreciate you," at my arched eyebrow he gave me a rakish smile. "You've managed to handle the company and dragged your husband out to meet us mere mortals."

My throat burned with the need to let out a frustrated cry. But I tamped it down.

"Your tone sounds more surprised than appreciative," I asked, feigning enthusiasm. My polite smile carried a warning he either didn't notice or he ignored.

"I am surprised," I gaped, hoping I'd misheard him. "We hadn't seen Taimoor in the past five years, and then you came along," I wanted to grab him by his too-long hair and bounce his forehead off the wall. Instead, I defaulted to channeling Taimoor's trademark frost. He took a step back, his gaze slightly alarmed."I didn't mean to offend."

"Maybe take care to choose your words a little more carefully."

"I'll defer to your wisdom," he answered smoothly, handing me a single white lily, plucking it from the arrangement placed near the wall. "An apology."

"What's going on here?"

The deep voice pierced into our conversation, and Badar jolted upright, narrowly missing sideswiping the corner of my face with the flower. I followed his gaze to the tall, dark-haired man who cut a path through the crowd. Steel eyes and an icy expression made Badar's jaw tighten and vicious satisfaction bloomed in the pit of my stomach.

"Taimoor."

"Badar."

Taimoor moved to my side and ran his hands down my bare arms from bicep to wrist. An intimate, friendly gesture. A warning.

"We should be heading back babe," he said with a low, tight voice, as he trailed his fingers up my bare neck, his thumb brushing over the smooth skin as he continued, a dangerous edge bleeding into his voice."It was nice to see you."

"And you," Taimoor ignored him, barely sparing him a glance."Taimoor, Mrs. Mughal."

"There is something really strange about that boy," I said weakly, my gaze clamoring back up to Taimoor's. "He's just so... odd."

"Probably out of his mind. Who does he think he is? Giving flowers to my wife?" the rush of hot air from his growl was more abrasive than the sound itself.

"We've got bigger problems than that..." I mumbled, ignoring the blooming warmth in my chest and relaying the whole conversation to him, outlining what I'd heard, showing him the video, hating how my voice wavered at the end."What are you going to do?"

My question was met with silence as we neared the fringes of the room.

"We are going home right now."

"But they'll know that we've left..."

"They don't care, we've made an appearance and a donation. Let's go."

Most of the attention was focused on the stage, and Taimoor was right, it appeared that the introductions and speeches were about to start, and no one looked at us as we slipped toward the far door. I followed behind him. His broad shoulders seemingly big enough to carry the entire world. Guilt bubbled up. I didn't want him to shoulder the whole burden alone, not when my family was responsible for a good chunk of it.

We zoomed past the city with Taimoor on his phone barking orders and assembling his legal team. I sent the video to Zeenia and asked her to be ready in fifteen. She replied with a thumbs up. My fingers also typed a message to Jibran, asking for him to arrange a meeting with Tara first thing in the morning.

Akbar met us at the front door, his gaze anticipatory. "Just like old time's sir?"

Taimoor barred his teeth in a predatory smile. "Just like old times."

There was darkness in him tonight, and he became a blend of vengeance and fury as he threw himself into the fray. Pushed to the edge, he became ruthless. As if every aggression he'd held back had spilled out and there was no putting it back in the bottle. The top two buttons of his pristine white shirt were open, teasing a glimpse of the bronze chest. The shirt hugged him in a way that said there were hard, rippling muscles and taut, heated skin beneath it. Not that I'd had to guess. I'd seen those muscles in action. More than once. His dark and thick hair- a few strands fell over his forehead, giving him an effortless, edgy, I-don't-give-a-fuck kind of look. They were the obvious complement to his darkness, adding a rakish handsomeness to his already devastating impact.

He was a predator out for a hunt tonight.

"Yahya, how are we on the NDA's?"

"We've got three of the four locked."

"Make sure to go over the board members and their contracts. If there's a loophole, I want to find it," arrogance threaded through his expression."When I nail this, I don't want any of those bastards to be sitting on the board."

"What about the fake accounts we've been tracking?" his eyes flicked my way and I shrugged.

"I have someone from the SECP looking at them," his frame hardened, and the muscle along his jaw ticked. It restrained his biting tone. "Move up the patent filing. Call your contact and get him to start the paperwork, get the word out, do anything to make sure that we can file it as soon as possible and that they know that it's under my name."

"How much time do we have?"

"End of February, but we can't risk it."

"Boss, you might want to check out the recent transactions in Europe," the guy with the square glasses held up a stack of papers and then shared his screen.

"I'm looking at the file right now Waseem, explain the financials to me."

"Your tip was right. There has been a shift in the money. We just don't know where it's being funneled to."

"Get on it Waseem, if they're using their wives or kids, pull your contacts and get their bank statements."

"Also boss, the IT guy you hired found two anomalies," meaning he put him in a high-level position to get this information. "A company named Zeus and a company named Ashes."

"Not very subtle are they?" I muttered under my breath. Taimoor shrugged like we weren't talking about a company worth billions of dollars.

"Do we have a potential list of suspects?" the new PR specialist asked, her fingers clicking away on her laptop.

"Anyone who's worked with me," all five of them looked up, their eyes displaying the same shock I was feeling. "Focus on the ones with the biggest stake in the company. Check their share portfolios and bonuses," he said calmly as if he hadn't dropped a bombshell on all of us. The smile on his lips was faint, but a wicked grin threatened the edges of his mouth.

That could mean all of them. What if all of them were out to get him? What if none of them wanted a young dynamic CEO at the helm? What if we were wrong? If if if...

Taimoor ended the call until it was Zeenia on the line, her face filled with worry.

"What's the plan?"

"We strike back and we strike back hard."

"What do you have in mind?"

"We're going to get multiple cease and detests ready. We're not going to file them, not right now-"

"You've invited the board members to the reception right?"

They both looked at me. Zeenia was the one who answered. "Yes."

"And their families?"

"Yes."

"Have someone check their backgrounds..."

"Daania that could take ages."

My heart ground to a halt and the rest of me went on autopilot."Ghazanfar. What did Gahzanfar say? That there were people out to get you, people with grudges to settle."

"What do you mean?"

I hugged my arms around myself. My emotions made my throat raw and sapped the strength from my voice."He wasn't acting alone-" how could we have been this blind? They hadn't bought the shares overnight. This wasn't something that had happened over the course of a few months, Ghazanfar was a pawn. A pawn to weaken Taimoor.

"My contract. You think someone was trying to find a way for me to violate my contract?"

"Someone was trying to take out two birds with one stone," I said slowly. "What better way to do it from the shadows?"

I raised my tentative gaze back to Taimoor, not wanting to see his reaction. His expression was blank. Too guarded for anything to leak out, but his stare was piercing. "He can't say anything, with his broken jaw, and your aunt signed the NDA yesterday."

"Do you think your cousin could have been acting on his own?"

I shook my head at her question."He'd already tried once, why would he do it again?"

"He let me find you," comprehension smeared across my husband's face. "Damn it."

"Well shit," Zeenia cursed and started to type on her phone. "We need to check if there's any evidence that ties you to that place Taimoor."

Anger tightened his eyes to slits."I'll get Aziz on that."

"And we've already got the RSVPs, but I want you to prepare for the worst. For the next few weeks, the two of you have to be on your best behavior. No arguments and no fights. You charm those old crooks and make them believe that this is it. That Taimoor is the future of Mughal Co. and that the White Rose is going to revolutionize the world. Sell it like your life depends on it," because it did.

His future and my freedom.

A freedom that I wanted. And for some reason had forgotten about. My seams tore open as I unraveled. Everything was falling apart. Anxiety tensed the muscles of my back, making my posture stiff. The gauntlet I had to run to break free was going to be much longer and harder. My breath came and went in shallow pulls.

"Get some sleep Zeenia."

His eyes trapped mine, refusing to let go. I gasped as I felt my back pressed against the wall, his pulsing fingertips marking the skin on my upper arms, reminding me of another place, another night.

"Don't. Don't you dare go spiraling now," he began, capturing my gaze and holding it prisoner.

"I am not spiraling, I'm thinking. I'm thinking of how I missed this."

"I did too. We didn't know."

"Honestly, if it wasn't for the NDA, I think I'm tempted to punch the crap out of him right now," his mouth twitched.

"And I'd pay good money to watch you do that."

"I'm not going to let him ruin this. You'll get that damn seat."

"I don't doubt you for a second," he sounded so sincere, and I longed to believe him, but my mind refused. We'd begun as fiction and now I didn't even know which parts of us were real. I knew this was real. The time at the fundraiser was real, but there were too many unknowns, too many what if's."Did I mention you were great today?"

He was playing with me now.

It was manipulative on every level. Not just the obvious, where it would lower my inhibitions, but it was seductive. His gaze zeroed in on my lips, and my throat when it dipped in a swallow. It was a sweet, sliding, teasing dance. A tactic to get me to calm down and relax. But this side of him was setting alarm bells in my head. I'd watched him switch his emotions on and off. He'd come out of the shadows for me. I'd nursed him back to health. He'd saved my life. I was the key to his legacy. And yet, we hadn't connected beyond our attraction to one another.

My guard went up.

"You don't need to flatter me."

"I'm not flattering you," Taimoor held my gaze for an impossibly long moment. "I'm telling you the truth Daania, learn to deal with it."

My mouth went dry - and my witty-comeback reflex flatlined. For the first time ever, I didn't care if I won or lost this. The outcome was irrelevant. We were playing a more intricate game with higher stakes, and that was where my focus lay. In every scenario, I'd thought of and I'd forecasted, this was a possibility. This wasn't about comfort anymore. We were beyond that territory. He could not slither his way into my head or my heart.

"Taimoor-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was about to say."

"I know what you were going to say and no."

"You can't just say no."

"I think I just did."

There was rage flowing through his blood, but as the cold realization fell on him, I watched that fury become caged inside his stiff body. He yearned for reckless battle, but the strategic side of him was stronger. I held my ground as he shifted his weight, subtly leaning closer to me. Our eyes met, and the air developed another layer of thickness. My stomach bottomed out and my breath caught painfully in my lungs, but I pushed forward. I had to do this.

"You have to stop-"

"No."

Frustration dragged a sigh from my lungs. "You don't understand."

His eyes were crushed smoke—beautiful, hazy, and tarnished."You're not a coward Daania. Don't act like one."

Both of our phones vibrated in a short burst on the tabletop, and when he flipped his over, we each saw the list of potential suspects.

"You need to plan."

Resignation flagged in his eyes."You need to rest."

He put his hand over mine and scanned me from under his thick lashes, his throat bobbing with a swallow. My pulse tumbled and raced faster. His gaze lingered on my left hand, his eyes stuck on the ring. Slowly, his pulse calmed under his tailored suit, until we were breathing in sync. It was reckless to touch him, but I couldn't help it. It was like free-falling, just jumping off, without a parachute, without a single thing to keep you afloat above the ground. Headed towards a crash and burn.

"I will when I have a plan."

I held his stare for a beat too long, letting my double meaning settle on him. He gave a sigh of defeat, and when he pinched the bridge of his nose, my focus landed on the wedding band.

"Well, it's going to be a long couple of days then, because we're heading to Mughal Manor on Monday."

༻✺༺

A uniformed driver with a face like a slab of granite took our bags. It was close to sunset, the sky a spectacular orange and purple-blue. From the airport, it was a short drive through the bustling city of Multan to the countryside, where the houses kept getting larger and farther and farther apart. Finally, we pulled up in front of a majestic stone gate, and the driver punched a code into a small silver box mounted on a pole beside the driveway.

Beside me, Taimoor said."Breathe, Daania."

I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath. I released it in one big rush, smoothing my hands over my hair. We pulled past the stone gate and started down a long, winding lane, shaded on both sides by enormous peepal trees. Around a bend, I spotted the house in the distance. It was beautiful, but nowhere near as large as I'd expected- maybe half the size of Mughal House.

Taimoor must have been watching my face."It's the guest house."

"Oh."

That made sense. They were rich, of course, they had a guest house.

"There are thirteen on the property," he added.

My mouth dropped open. I stared at him in disbelief.

"Thirteen guest houses?"

"Yes and that's the small one."

When I made a noise of shock, he smiled, only it was a dark smile, totally devoid of humor.

He said. "You'll see."

I didn't wait to see. I googled.

His dark humor was justified.

The estate was comprised of a significant amount of land, a lake, thirteen guest cottages, mango gardens, a park, a stable yard, and its own greenhouses and farms. The main residence had thirty-seven bedrooms- an entire wing dedicated to servants' quarters, a helicopter pad, a bowling alley, basketball and tennis courts, and a theatre.

We sped past several small cottages, partly hidden behind stands of trees and lush gardens. Then we crested a low hill, and the main estate came into view.

I gasped.

"Welcome to Mughal Manor," Taimoor muttered.

A beautiful haveli, a brighter, livelier, and picturesque version of Nur Mahal. Elegant and romantic. With gardens filled with cascading fountains, the grass-covered with every type of flower imaginable, and flocks of doves soaring through the clear blue skies. A place ripped from the pages of a desi fairy tale where a Princess waited for her Prince. Where she laid and languished in luxury surrounded by her trusty servants and the wonderful southern Punjab weather, dressed in the lightest of fabrics, dancing and running barefoot through the marbled corridors, the train of her clothing trailing after her. The car passed through a shadowed enclave, then pulled to a smooth stop at the crest of a circular drive.

I exhaled an awed breath that contained a lot of vowels. Then, panicked, I gripped Taimoor's arm. He patted my hand and wrapped his fingers around mine, giving them a light squeeze.

"Let's just get through the ten days here, all right?"

He didn't wait for the driver to open his door. He burst from the car, rounded the rear, and yanked open my door. He was wearing jeans, relaxed and worn, with a casual black button-down. And a baseball hat pulled low over his forehead. For some reason, seeing him in jeans was funny and a little jarring. Out of place. He stuck out his hand and impatiently wiggled his fingers. So conversation time was over.

Now it was facing the in-law's time. Showtime.

Try to act sweet and charming so everyone bought our act. I cursed myself for not being prepared enough. Hopefully, with the arrival of the guests and the countless functions Zeenia had planned, I wouldn't have much time to get to know any of them and I could slip away from this whole ordeal unscathed. Taimoor unloaded me from the car like a piece of luggage. When I was steady on my feet, I looked up into his grim face and poked him in the chest, which nearly broke my finger. Maybe he was wearing a bulletproof vest.

"Relax, it's my neck on the line here."

He exhaled loudly and folded my hand into the crook of his arm. "It's both of our necks."

The inside of the house was exactly what I'd expected it to be like. Hanging tapestries, oil paintings, lots of elaborate stonework, and beveled windows. The floor was polished to a mirror sheen. Bouquets of flowers were arranged in delicate Chinese porcelain vases in every corner of the room, again, what was this obsession with vases? There was an overabundance of carved mahogany paneling on the walls. The entire effect was one of stately, distinguished elegance.

"Huh, it's both less and more of what I'd thought it would be like."

Akbar met us inside, his mouth pressed in a single flat line, and shook his head twice. Standing beside me in the foyer, Taimoor breathed a little easier. I took it as a win. The driver followed us in with the luggage.

"To your rooms, sir?" he said. Akbar nodded, and both he and the driver disappeared down a corridor to our right.

There wasn't enough time for a tour before dinner, so we went straight up to Taimoor's room via one of the elevators he informed me were scattered all over the place. Once inside the door, I stopped dead.

"Your grandfather really loved the Romans," I commented, gazing around the room.

More oil paintings, more soaring ceilings, more priceless antiques. But the thing that truly made this room so beautiful was the massive wall of windows that gave way to the view of the gardens and lake and woodlands beyond. A fire crackled in the huge stone hearth on one end of the room. On the other end, a door stood slightly open, giving a peek of what looked to be a mega-size bathtub in the en suite bathroom. Taimoor went straight to the enormous bed centered under the windows and plopped down onto the silk duvet cover, where he remained unmoving. Which is when I realized we'd never had a talk about the sleeping arrangements. Even if we had been living together for the better part of the month.

We weren't technically married, yet.

But there were no technicalities in this relationship, we were all over the place.

Taimoor rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head. That made his shirt ride up to his abdomen a few inches, exposing a hard expanse of golden skin and a fine trail of dark hair that disappeared under the waistband of his jeans.

I hoped my gulp wasn't audible.

I tossed my handbag onto a chair by the door and wandered into the room. Ignoring him, I roamed around for a few minutes, touching things, being nosy. I poked my head into the bathroom and wondered how many people would fit into the room. Even with his eyes closed, I knew he was watching me the way I always knew he was watching me. Giving up the act, I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and looked down at him.

He stubbornly refused to open his eyes.

"Taimoor," no reply. "Taimoor?"

Taimoor groaned like he'd been stabbed in the gut. "What?"

"You can't just close your eyes and pretend you're not here."

"Oh, but doesn't it help? You should try it."

"Look, we've got a game plan. Zeenia's already freaked out, do you want her to worry about this too?"

"Emotional blackmailing isn't going to work."

"I'm urging you to be realistic."

"I like how your mind works."

"You'll like me more when you do what I'm asking you to."

He looked at me with cautious eyes, like what I was saying was too good to be true."See, you're already slipping into your role."

"My role?"

"That's not... you know what I meant," those gorgeous eyes looked deep into mine, pulling me right in. Taimoor tried to cover up his agitation by scowling and looking away, but it was too late. He was nervous. Or worried. Or both and he so much so that he was struggling to maintain his calm facade.

"I know," God, the nerves were getting the better of us. "It's going to be okay. We can pull this off."

He turned to face me, his face perplexed."You're oddly optimistic."

"I know who I am and I know who you are, what could possibly go wrong?" a shit load of stuff could go wrong, but we weren't focusing on the negatives here.

"You're right."

"I usually am."

"I like this side of you."

"What's the worse that could happen."

Genuine surprise rolled through him. He hadn't expected me to play hardball. He leaned over, put his head in his hands, and cursed. "Where my family is involved? Anything."

"You can't be serious."

"I am," through gritted teeth, Taimoor said. "A lifetime of privilege gives you the license to do whatever you want."

"We'll be fine."

"Yes, we will be," he rubbed his finger along his bottom lip, sizing me up and I automatically moved back."Come on, let me show you to your rooms."

My rooms were an exact copy of Taimoor's, albeit a smaller version and much to his dismay, a whole flight of stairs away. Apparently, I was supposed to behave like a newlywed blushing bride and to stay away from my lawful husband.

Message received.

I wasn't going to oppose a bit of distance between the two of us. Taking a quick shower, I emerged from the bathroom and perked up when I saw what had been left on the bed. A gorgeous navy blue dress beckoned. It was sleeveless, with a fitted waist and a flared skirt to accentuate my waist. When I ran my fingers over the fabric, it shimmered like silk. Because it was silk. No doubt sent over on Zeenia's instructions. Speaking of, where was she? She had said that she would meet me before dinner.

Scooping up the dress. I headed into the bathroom to change and give myself a pep talk in front of the mirror. When finished with both, I had to admit I looked rather well. My eyes sparkled. The dress fit like a dream, and the color flattered my complexion. I dug out a pair of strappy silver heels from the closet, someone had gone through my luggage and arranged my wardrobe, because they were elegant enough to make the whole ensemble sing.

"Hair down."

I jumped.

Taimoor stood in the open doorway, eating me up with his eyes. I glanced over to find him leaning against it with one shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest, the picture of casual confidence. He made a gesture to indicate my updo held in place with its usual clip.

"Um. Okay," biting my lip, I released the clip and shook my hair out. It fell around my shoulders in a swirling cloud. There was the slightest tremor in my hands as I scooped up my hair, pulled it to the front, and draped it over my shoulder.

Our eyes met in the mirror. He didn't even glance at himself, he just kept staring at me with wild caveman eyes that did all sorts of unusual things to my body. His gaze drifted slowly down my body, then back up again - one long, lingering sweep that was unabashedly lustful. I had to put a hand on the counter to steady myself. He was big, he was beautiful, and he was giving me a look like he was about to call the whole dinner off and lock the door to the room and keep me with him, and it was all too much for me.

He didn't smile, but I got the sense he wanted to. I got the sense that he was pleased with himself, so I sent him a frown. Dressed in a dark blue shirt and grey dress pants, the shirt buttoned and tucked in, he looked like a dream. A very delectable, dangerous, wild dream.

"Well, Zeenia is having her fun," I muttered gesturing to our color-coordinated outfits and tried to laugh but ended up sounding like I was attempting to expel a hairball from my throat. He searched my face, those eyes falling to my mouth like he couldn't tear his eyes away.

So attractive.

"Ready?" he said, his voice husky.

"For dinner," I clarified, refusing to give an inch and let him see the nerves swirling inside me.

"Of course. What else would I be talking about?" he blinked at me, innocent as ever, and I knew I was in serious trouble. Nothing with him was ever just simple or innocent.

We were greeted in the dining room by a three-person-welcoming committee. Zeenia and Affandi offered us small tight smiles as a tall woman glided forward. Taimoor's mother was beautiful in a superficial way. The same way I'd imagined her to be. Everything was too groomed and too tight, leathery skin on newly bleached hair, blow-dried to perfection, and decked in a satin gown in silver.

"Taimoor, my son! How have you been? How's Mughal House?" she purred, sauntering over to him, placing a kiss on each of his cheeks.

"Mother-"

"You look like you haven't eaten in days," what the fuck was happening? "Zeenia told me you'd be here today, so sorry I wasn't here to receive you, but you know about my engagements darling. I couldn't just back out of a commitment."

"Mother, meet my wife, Daania Taimoor Mughal."

Her eyes zeroed in on me and I wanted to melt into the floor.

"How nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

"Zeenia, ask them to commence with dinner."

Both Affandi and Taimoor relaxed by my side, their bodies deflating. That was it. Done. I was dismissed. I didn't know if I should have been insulted or relieved. I decided to let my eyes wander instead. The dining room was dominated by a double-sided fireplace and a chandelier so high it had its own atmosphere. The table looked exactly like what I imagined their dining table would be like. A long, black slab of wood, surrounded by black, elaborately carved chairs. Clear glass goblets stood beside bone china place settings rimmed in gold. It was oddly terrifying. The grandfather clock on the wall gonged solemnly eight times, and the haunted vibe was complete.

"Where's your father? Hope he's not having a rendevous with his flavor of the month."

"Not today Rania, that's planned for tomorrow," she scowled, shooting a nasty look his way. Mr. Mughal looked as perfect as ever, not a strand out of place, his gaze sharpened like a knife right before it plunged in. Zeenia shuffled back and forth her eyes bouncing from her mother to her father, eventually landing on the dining-room door.

"As long as you keep the trash out of the estate, I could not be bothered less."

"I'm aware," I couldn't get a read on Mughal Senior's expression. As the moments stretched on, a bud of nervousness bloomed in my stomach, its vine wrapping around my vocal chords."You've met our lovely daughter-in-law?"

"How's the business Asfand? Going well I hope?"

I didn't hear Affandi's answer. I was too busy trying to stay calm. Taimoor's fingers clasped my wrist and his thumb rubbed in a small circle over my thrumming pulse. Following the still talking duo, we headed to be seated and I tamped down my increasing anxiety. Judging by Taimoor's silent performance so far, I'd have to float the conversation for the rest of the night. His parents were seated at opposite ends of the long dining table. the four of us sat across from each other, separated by a forest of food platters, drinks, and fruit bowls. The servants stood vigilant to guard against the walls. It was like something straight out of a historical movie.

"So Daania, I hear you met my son at the office."

"Quite a business woman this girl," Mughal senior began, fingering an invisible goatee, possibly mulling over our last meeting.

"Shut up Haider. Let the girl talk."

Affandi shoveled a spoonful of soup into his mouth and Zeenia looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here.

"I did."

"How did you two meet?"

"She presented me her ideas for a project I was working on," he flicked those steely gray eyes in my direction, and I thought I spotted a hint of amusement before the walls crashed down again. "I was impressed by her ingenuity and intellect."

"You were impressed? Must be quite an idea. I never heard you talk about Altamash this way."

My ears perked up. Taimoor's expression broke, turning dark and resentful as she spoke. I had a terrible suspicion that these words meant a lot more to him than he let on.

"Mother."

"What?" she rubbed the side of her forehead, looking around for an imaginary person to explain everything to her."Does she not know about him?"

"Is this conversation appropriate for dinner?" Zeenia jumped in bravely, her eyes fixed on her husband.

"Don't interrupt."

"Don't tell her what to do," Affandi snapped, his gaze on Mr. Mughal.

Now it was their mother's turn to sigh and throw her hands in the air. "There's no need to be this way, we're all just trying to have a conversation here."

Oozing fury, Taimoor sat beside me, a plank of wood bristling. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back so hard I thought he'd crush my bones. If I thought Taimoor was stiff before, now he became an icicle. But he didn't say a word. It was like he'd shut down all cylinders except the outrage one. I knew I was in the middle of an ancient family drama and was ticked at Taimoor and Zeenia for not giving me a compass to navigate my way.

"Mother, why don't we talk about the reception?"

"I'd rather talk about my daughter-in-law," she spat the word out like it was poisonous. "My friends were curious to know about the girl who's managed to capture your heart Taimoor."

"She's in front of you."

"And so far I can not see the allure."

Hot anger and shame bubbled and sizzled behind my ribcage. Taimoor's jaw tensed and locked in anger.

"That's it," Taimoor spat, getting up and dragging me up with him, the chair screeching against the floor. "You do not get to talk to my wife this way."

"Taimoor beta-"

"Let's go," he cut her off, balling his hands into fists and grabbing my wrist so hard I thought he was going to yank my arm off. I think he realized it too, because he withdrew his hand slightly, softening his grip and leading me out of the room.

Not once did he meet my eyes.

༻✺༺
Catastrophic family dinners are my favorite. So what do you think? How's the whole debacle? Are we having fun? Thoughts? Comments? Feedback?

Daania is finally realizing that it's not all fun and games. And Taimoor now knows that he's in it to win it 😉

The next update will be the week after this one... I have a lot of assignments and I thought that skipping a week would be beneficial. That doesn't mean you won't be getting Daimoor content 😨 Stay tuned for a lot of stuff coming your way ✨

Oh and happy 15K! Give me a week and we'll party like it's 20K (hint hint) 😄 See you soon 🤍

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