Taimoor

𝕿he sight of her arrested me.

She sat in the armchair, eyes exhausted, her normally wild wavy hair straightened into a sleek back curtain, feet curled up underneath. The hair tumbled around her shoulders and there was now a slight print from the fabric of the chair etched into the smooth skin of one high cheekbone. In her silk dress, she was soft and sleepy, completely in her zone.

Every cell in my body screamed with the need to claim her. To stamp myself into her skin and feel the imprint of her burned into mine. To have her to myself so completely, without the fear that somebody will one day take her from me.

The thing I'd been trying to ignore since I beheld her, reared in me.

It was primitive.

Something older and bigger than the universe we existed in. Something visceral. Beyond human comprehension.

This girl was seeping into my skin.

"Have you been sleeping well?"

Slipping her teeth over her bottom lip, she paused for a millisecond, her eyes flicking downwards. Sometimes I forgot just how young Daania was. Inexperienced. But at moments like this, she reminded me. This was her tell. Something she could not control.

She was about to lie.

"Yes."

"You're lying," I said as casually as I could manage, not wanting to pressure her but needing to know the answer. "What's keeping you up at night?"

She looked like she wanted to argue, but with a weary sigh, she let it go. "The nightmares won't go away."

The wedding must have triggered her anxiety and post-traumatic stress. Meeting a group of ravenous sharks and having to put up with them was quite an ask for someone like Daania. She wasn't a wallflower, as my mother had rightly pointed out hours ago, but she wasn't immune to the poison spewed inside these walls day in and day out.

"What nightmares?"

"The-" her throat bobbed as she twiddled with her fingers."The ones about that night."

The vestiges of fear in those eyes were my undoing. The panic of those moments rushed back. My body still remembered the adrenaline that had coursed through every vein and deployed to every vital organ when I had punched the ever-living shit out of that asshole. The image of Daania's swollen, discolored cheek and the black and blue bruises encircling her neck, covered with soot, and the marks from where that bastard tried to choke her, still haunted and tortured me. I reached for her, barely trusting myself, but needing her to know I would keep her safe. She relented, letting me pull her onto my lap and brush the long hair back over her shoulders and away from her face.

"It's all over, that's never going to happen again."

"That's not what haunts me."

"What haunts you?"

"That I don't regret it," I released an extended breath at her reply, the band in my chest easing slightly.

"There's nothing to regret. You didn't do anything wrong," the conviction of the words vibrated in my chest, rattling across my ribcage, echoing in the space.

"Do you feel that way?"

"Regret saving you? Babe, I only regret not putting him six feet into the ground."

She coughed out a laugh, her body shaking at the motion."You've done much worse. You left him alive to face the consequences of his actions."

A harsh chuckle rumbled in my throat.

"Does that put your mind at ease?"

"It's not like I can control it. I wish I could," her voice was husky with fatigue."Do you ever just feel like the world is...spinning too fast? And that you just want it to stop? To press a pause button somewhere, somehow?"

"Is that what you do when you disappear into your head?"

"It helps calm the chaos."

Another puzzle slid into place.

"Have you ever considered therapy?" a brief smile lit up her face before she slumped back into me.

"I have, but I don't know. I don't want people to think I'm losing myself. I'm not. It's just," she expressed, raising her eyebrows slightly even as a part of her wanted to break the eye contact with me."To cope for a little while."

"I understand," and I did. So much responsibility, so much to do, so much weight, so much worry. Never-ending and always. How could she expect someone else to understand the peace and calm she experienced in her own head? By letting them in and inviting the confusion from outside?

"Do you-" unsure as to why her quiet hesitancy made something warm inside me unfurl, I waited in silence for a moment. "Have you ever felt that way?"

I'd been sleeping restlessly for years, with Mughal House groaning at night, and woken up with my legs tangled in the sheets, arms swinging to fight the shadows and sweating, under the cold showers trying to purge myself as thoroughly as possible. Trying to outrun the fire. Trying to keep myself busy.

"I know exactly what you mean."

She looked up, our gazes locking, and this time she didn't break it, instead, taking the chance to observe me up close, her eyes shimmering. She wasn't the only one. I brushed my hand through her long, dark hair, twining a strand around my finger. She relaxed and leaned her cheek into the palm of my hand.

"Do you feel this?" her fingers drifted up to my arms, fluttering up and down, ghosting over the flesh. "It's like a river that won't stop flowing," her eyes came back up to mine. A current of electricity zapped through my spine, the intensity in those brown orbs nearly knocking me back. "Like a transformation in the air, a metamorphosis of the molecules, the singular need to connect."

I couldn't put words to it, but she did. She summarized exactly what had me clawing out of my skin to be inside of her. Something -chemical, emotional, psychological, I didn't know – came together like molten lava and hot ash, caused by an eruption unpredictable to us both. Almost sentient in the way it kept evolving and bringing us together. But even after hearing it from her lips, I needed her to make the first move. I needed to know she was fine; that if I lost control, she would not break. That she would not run.

"Don't look at me like that little dragon, not with that look in your eyes," I pressed our foreheads together, praying for control. "It makes me want things."

"Things like what?" she whispered, pulse thundering wildly, her gaze locked with mine. She gripped my neck and huddled closer.

"Things like having you under me, my hands in your hair, you in my bed. Things that should be left unspoken for now."

Her pulse fluttered in her neck, her nipples hardened against the fabric of her dress. Her doe eyes fell on me, her smile turning timid with the blush of her cheeks.

"This is lust," she whispered, trying to validate and excuse it with muted blush-stained cheeks and the plump mouth that I dreamt about at night. "Moor, this is nothing but lust."

"No little dragon, this isn't lust," the side of my lips twitched."This is an obsession, a need."

Her pupils dilated further. "Madness."

It felt like madness. Crazy, catastrophic, and destructive.

Fatal. Addictive.

And this thing, it was getting hungrier every single day. She looked up at me, her hand coming up to touch my mouth as I'd touched hers. Her fingers were gentle as she traced my lips our eyes never moving off one another.

I locked myself in place.

Unhurriedly she raised herself and pressed her lips to her fingers over my mouth, our noses touching as she tilted her head and removed her hand, leaving that last inch of space between them. I breathed her in, holding her hips with both hands, and locked eyes with her.

"If this is madness," she whispered almost against my lips. "I want to drown in it."

Well fuck.

The words hung in the air between us, crackling, colliding, consuming. She clutched my shoulders with her hands, the feeling of her warm body, heat rolling off her skin. movement. I inhaled, her chest pressing deeper into me just as she exhaled, exchanging the same breath of charged air between us.

"This is our madness," those four words came out harsh and punishing, almost as if I wanted her to know what she was choosing. Wanted us both to see that we were dancing at the cliff's edge.

Daania nodded, the lust in the air infusing every inch of her and embedding in my being. My mouth came down on hers, mouth slanting over hers as my other hand guided her hip up, letting her legs fall to either side of my waist. A noise I didn't recognize left her, swallowed by my mouth, our kissing frantic.

And my control stretched to a tenuous, razor-thin thread. Chests heaving, pupils blown wide, my mouth parting hers. I took a moment to enjoy the view - Daania's flushed, heated skin, the way her pitch-black hair lay against her, and the way the straps of her dress clung to dainty shoulders.

I gripped her arms and yanked her up harder than I should have and kissed her until she could not breathe, couldn't think- sucking on those velvet lips, grazing them with my teeth, dominating her with the thrust of my tongue. That simple movement felt so good, heating my blood and stirring my very dominant and very male organ, and I wanted to start all over again, surge into her and lose all sense of the world except Daania as my one point of light.

It was everything, pleasure so pure, so untainted, so primal it was endless.

With my eyes closed, every other sense awakened. The mewling little sounds she made, the way her nails dug into my arms, little claws holding me still so she could get it just how she wanted. It felt so good like she peeled back the skin and was recreating and rearranging my molecules, my DNA. Panting, I pulled back, my chest heaving, and I dipped my nose to her neck, absorbing the smell of the roses and the alluring scent that was hers alone, praying for some sort of control. Daania looked up at me, dazed, her body still buzzing with little aftershocks.

"Ambrosia," I muttered, giving her velvety lower lip a soft lick, my head dizzy with the sensations. Daania's innocent-looking eyes narrowed, reading me like she was a visual lie detector. Satisfied, at what she found, she curled her hands around my neck, her head on my chest, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.

"You and your family's obsession with mythology."

I felt a laugh bubble out of me. She was too damn smart. "A family tradition, unfortunately."

"Why?"

"My great-grandmother was Italian."

"I know that, I just don't know why you continue to reference them-" her eyes took in the library we were in. "Even now."

Making a split-second decision, I eased her off me, immediately missing her warmth. Grasping her hand in mine, I led her to a small corner of the room, pushing open a cleverly hidden doo. "Let me show you something."

The small observatory had been completely redone the past year, making it more luxurious than it had any right to be. Dark, almost black wooden shelves stood tall in neat rows at the back, filled with charts and a collection of lenses. A big fireplace adorned the west wall, the mantle above displaying a range of old maps that must have belonged to the owner of this place. Small cushions adorned the rug in front of the fireplace, looking comfortable with their deep green and brown covers. Surprisingly, a very modern telescope was placed in one corner beside the desk, pointed towards the glass ceiling, the only thing modern and out of place in the entire room.

Daania's wide, awed eyes swept over the furniture, the shelves, absorbing it all, her feet taking her to the center of the room. She raised her eyes to the curved, domed ceiling made entirely of clear glass, quietly gaping at the view. Above us, the sky was jet black... dotted with the most magnificent colors of the night. Swirls of silver and grey- all danced together, forming a striking pattern. "This place is amazing."

"A late addition by Dada Jaan, a couple of years before his death. When he was trying to persuade me to get out of Mughal House and join polite society, 'like a man', as he so eloquently put."

Daania tapped her puffy, thoroughly ravaged lips, furrowing her brow worriedly. "Your family is..."

"A shit show."

She turned to me her eyes dancing with laughter. "I want to say no, just to be polite but-"

"We're beyond pleasantries now," not when she'd met all of them in all their glory. Not when my mother had ambushed her.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Thought I'd let you bask under the stars," she narrowed her eyes like she was trying to figure out if I was mocking her. I kept my features utterly neutral, wanting to tease her. "You asked about our obsession with mythology," I gestured towards the maps on the shelves. "After his self-inflicted retirement, Dada Jaan decided to spend the rest of his days marking constellations and charting them, all based on his mother's stories. It had made him feel closer to her. As if he was honoring a part of her."

She clasped her hands together. "That's so sweet."

"Never use that word to refer to Dada Jaan."

"Is anyone in your family normal?"

"But what is normal?" she unleashed her fiercest scowl and I smirked shamelessly.

"You know what I mean."

"No I really don't," her mouth puckered into a little pout and I knew she was resisting the urge to stomp her foot. My smile was slow and full."Take a look, someone always has this set to look at some star or another."

"How will we know which is which?" she moved towards the telescope, bending at an angle to peer out into the night sky.

Pulling out one of the ledgers, I flipped it open."He's described them."

"All I see is a lot of milky white stuff."

She did not just say that. Ignoring the double innuendo in my mind, I shook my head.

"Probably Andromeda."

She nodded and moved around adjusting the telescope, all of her sleep forgotten, her hands guiding me to what she wanted to see, neither one of us bothering to let the other know about the time.

The warmth of the midday sun roused me from dreams. Settled on the cushions, covered only by a thin throw rug, I dragged the small body next to me into mine, where her slight frame perfectly melded into my much larger form. With my face pressed into her nape, I screwed my eyes shut. Her scent penetrated the chaos inside my head, the warm and inviting aroma calming me, slowing my pulse. Wrapping her tighter against me, I felt her body tick with life, her heartbeat and steady exhale like a metronome that lured me back to the present.

I'd had nightmares before and woke up to cold sweats. This time, I was grateful for Daania's presence. The way she soothed the restlessness that clawed inside of me. The wretched demons of my past spoiling for their usual nightly torment. I'd been careful to avoid repeating the mistakes of my past, of tangling myself in a web of commitments and responsibilities, but this girl was different somehow. I could feel my defenses crumbling when I was around her, and as much as that might frustrate the hell out of me, I didn't hate it, either.

I craved it.

Turning to face me, she raised her brows, the sight of her tightening the knot in my stomach.

"Morning," her eyebrows crinkled to an incredulous look, and in spite of the late hour, and the disruption of our schedules, the nonchalant expression was a brief distraction.

Reflexively, my grip tightened like a band around her. "Morning."

She ran a thumb over the scars along my cheek, the tips of her fingers traveling over the jagged, irregular edges of wounds that hadn't sealed properly. "Someone is going to have an aneurysm when they figure out we're missing and that we've spent the night here."

"Spent the night here or spent the night together?" a flare of embarrassment heated her cheeks, the conversation taking an uncomfortable turn. Not that I minded. We had to have this conversation one time or another. Slowly...and yet not slowly at all, the closeness, the intimacy that had been building between us, flowed freer and easier.

There was no stopping it - and why the hell would anyone want to? I wanted to get past every barrier, anything that would keep me from the innermost part of her, the part she was guarding and protecting.

I wanted that part.

Clambering to my feet, I held her stare and helped her up. "No one will dare say anything to you here Daania. You're my wife. Whatever we do, however we do it, isn't anyone's concern."

"But-"

"I'll see you at lunch?"

"Can't, everyone's being dragged out for a spa day. Can you imagine the gossip I'll get to hear once everyone's relaxed?"

Freaking Zeenia and her events. I half wanted to tell her to fuck it and spend the afternoon with me. But we were doing this whole thing for a reason. And to achieve those goals, both she and I had to spend some time with the guests.

"Don't know whether I should encourage your new Sherlock phase or be afraid of it."

"Encourage, always encourage, unless you're hiding any secrets?"

"Always," I bent forward and pressed my lips to her forehead, not wanting her to realize the reality of that statement."See you at dinner."

"I see you're in a good mood."

I barely raised my eyes.

The closeness between Akbar and me was different from the closeness I shared with my sister, but he felt more like my family than she ever did. We'd bonded around peril and adventure and all the things young men chased when they had no real sense of their own mortality, their limits. He was the one who patched me up, slowly bringing me out of the dark, his constant supervision and support being the only thing that stoked the fire of my recovery.

"It's a wonderful day," he hummed in agreement, eyeing me over his glasses.

"Apparently, your wife never came to her rooms last night."

"Is that so?"

"And you weren't in your rooms," he said placidly.

"As you were already aware."

"Your mother will be furious."

"Good."

"So it's serious then?" he asked with a low voice, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face because it felt like the right thing to do.

"I don't know about that. I just know it's more than it should have been."

༻✺༺

As expected, my mother could not stay away from making sure that she ruined my day. Sneering, she entered my office and sauntered over to the chair that was set out next to the window. She didn't embrace or greet me as some would expect - that just was not her way. But she touched my shoulder in passing. The most affectionate gesture she could muster in the circumstances. Plopping into the chair in front of me, she crossed her legs, looking exactly the same as she did last night. Perfectly coifed and proper. And because she looked the same, she appeared particularly unhappy at the moment.

"Why aren't you outside? Watching the match?"

Ironic coming from her. "You want me to watch people perform an activity I can no longer participate in?"

"You could mingle," she stared at me, taking me in and for a moment and her cold stare cracked, softened by some twisted form of motherly love she felt for me. The same love that had forced her to give up her beloved Cartier watch to me.

The one I still wore on my wrist today.

I exhaled loudly. "I saw the start of the Polo match. I'll be there to hand out the stupid fruit basket. Besides, Azaan was being an excellent host."

"He's scored three of the five goals. He's pummeling the opposition."

"Good, I knew he wanted those miniature pineapple hearts."

"Don't be absurd Taimoor," she said the sentence like it was foreign. Like absurdity and my name shouldn't ever be mentioned in the same sentence.

"How can I help you mother?" my tone was no less sharp but still respectful.

"I didn't expect this from you."

"What?"

"Spending the night with that girl! What will the servants say?" her voice sliced the air, bordering on shrill, another rarity.

"First of all, that girl you mentioned is my wife," her lips pursed, the way they did when she was trying to cap a smartass remark meant for my father, she set her glasses on the desk."Secondly, why would the servants say anything? We're married and it's not their concern."

"It's improper," her bracelets clinked as she stood with her back to me, peering into the gardens beyond."Not to mention, she's just a pawn. This isn't even a real marriage. Do you want to ruin her for whomever she actually marries after she's free of you?"

My jaw went hard and something twisted and ugly sprang up at this not being a real marriage. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, it was as real as it could be. "Again, that's also not your concern."

"You like her," it was a decent guess, but I was not going to dignify it with a response. 'Like' wasn't even in the same ballpark for my feelings regarding that girl. "Oh, my poor son. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything."

"Oh, darling, you know that isn't possible. I can't stop you, but I can warn you. Relationships in our family rarely, if ever, survive. They aren't for people like us, people like you and me."

Sometimes I thought it would be better if my family was schizophrenic. Dissociative. Possibly battling split personalities. It wouldn't be unheard of. All sorts of disorders showed up in ancient family trees- but being a failure at relationships, that was ours. If there was any question as to where my lack of faith in love and relationships originated, I was staring at half the reason right now.

I give her a withering smirk. "Are you telling your son that he's doomed to a loveless life?"

"I'm asking you to make wise choices and to not be guided by your emotions," she huffed.

"I heard you loud and clear last night."

My mother's eyes darkened like an approaching storm.

"And yet you spent the night with her."

"What is the problem here? The fact that I spent the night with my wife or that I ignored what you'd said?"

"Both."

"I'll clear up any confusion you might have then," I crossed my arms."She is my wife. I expect you to treat her with respect as you would have treated anyone I would have married. You wanted me to be happy, to return to the world. And now that I have, you have issues with the girl who's prompted this change?"

Her teeth ground so hard I think I heard them. "She's the daughter of the man who put you in this position."

"It was an accident and she's making amends. You know that."

"I also know that she has considerable influence over my son and my daughter."

"Maybe because she uses reasons and logic to balance her arguments and isn't just propelled by her emotions?"

"This should have been a game Taimoor," she said sharply not amused. "Just a quick fling where you get the reins of the company and secure your place as the de-facto CEO."

That's how it had started anyway.

"I would advise you to stay out of it. We need your help trying to fish out the culprits, can you do that?"

"If that would get rid of her sooner."

"It would grant you your freedom sooner."

"I will not bargain my son away for money," her voice was rough with pointless, illogical longing. Her abrupt declaration broke me out of my shock and I glared at her.

"Really? I thought that was your way. In the years that we were being mentally tortured by your husband and your in-laws, did you not bargain our mental peace and stability away for your own?"

"I was young, I didn't know what to do. You know that," she ignored the dig and leaned away, eyes smattering with tears.

"I do. Which is why I'm giving you the chance to leave."

"Since when did you become so cold?"

"Since you decided your children were not worth the effort," I glanced at the clock on my desk, and at my watch that read twenty-to-four. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm expecting to meet with Uncle Imran. I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow."

He didn't take too long to arrive. Coming in to give me a brief hug, he didn't ask for permission before he dropped into the chair in front of me. Dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit, he cut an imposing figure.

"How are you doing? Hope you're not exhausting yourself."

"Not yet no. The real party starts tomorrow," the smile he slapped on his face was just this side of frozen letting me know how much he enjoyed that statement.

"The rehearsal dinner. Your mother didn't let go of a single function."

"It's go big or go home with her," his face pinched together. "How're the kids? Settling in well in Australia?"

"They're fine. I talked to Junaid yesterday. He's setting up an architectural firm in Sydney."

"That's not a bad idea."

"Something geared towards environmental design."

"I like the thought process."

"Me too. So, how can I help you? When I got your call, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to think," leaning forward, he steepled his fingers together, signalling that I had his full attention.

"It's bad."

"You can't tell me this wasn't expected. You're young. It was bound to happen."

"But right now?"

"Why not now? This is a perfect time. They'll never let you get to that seat. The moment you do, it's game over for most of them."

He angled his head as if contemplating. His fingers played with the file on my desk and with a sigh, he pushed it towards me."Those old bastards have a history of wanting people they can control."

"You wanted me to check on my contacts," the weight of the information on my desk was getting too heavy to ignore.

"Yes."

My hands on the file paused for a split second, waiting. Eyes scanning over the few lines scrawled onto the paper, the world shifted from underneath my feet.

"And, they've sent me this."

Riffling through the notes, I found a list of names and scanned the scribbled shorthand for the details I'd marked. A few moments later, flipping through pages I knew like they told the story of my own life. The silence that followed told him of a wordless examination of the folder he'd placed.

"This is bad."

"I'll let you go through it," he halted in his steps to the door, only half turning over my shoulder to meet my gaze. "You're next move could make or break the company. I expect you to move wisely."

"No pressure," I exhaled loudly and slowly, squeezing my eyes shut, and took a deep breath, sitting in the dark, staring at the shadows the chandelier cast across my office ceiling. I'd spent the last several hours pondering the information. No concrete documents, but enough corroborating coincidence for me to be satisfied. Once I had all the pieces to the puzzle though, it became child's play to see how they fit together.

The click of the lock sprung my thoughts forward and my eyes narrowed in the darkening light of the room.

"Sir?" Akbar asked from the doorway. I snapped my eyes open and my body jerked in frustration. "Where are you going?"

Not bothering to answer him. I swiped the keys from the desk where they'd been left earlier and made my way toward the door. "Sir, you shouldn't go anywhere right now."

The warning in Akbar's voice failed to breach the haze of determination as I headed toward the exit.

"Taimoor!"

My feet skidded to a stop, refusing to acknowledge the trail of electricity that migrated down my spine hearing my name on her lips. Her navy-blue silk top, beneath a light gray cashmere coat, highlighted her dusky skin, and tight dark jeans tucked into knee-high heeled boots accentuated those long, slender legs. How was she here? And why?

"Oh were you headed somewhere?" and it was as if a civil war waged across her face-half of her wanting to bolt, the other half wanting to say what she came here to say. After a few moments of indecision, the latter won."I just thought we were meeting for dinner. It's okay if you've got plans."

Her irises changed to the color of coffee, so dark they were nearly black. Framed with long lashes and lined with a charcoal shadow, her eyes could bring a weaker man to his knees. She looked into my eyes and I was lost. Wrecked. Owned. There was no thought, no desire - except to please her. To see her smile. Emotion coiled inside me - so new and unfamiliar.

More.

"We are going out for dinner."

She glanced at Akbar, who just stared at us, his eyes swinging back and forth, darting between us, his face lightening up.

"There's a nice place half an hour away. Up for a ride?"

"Sure, let me go change."

I grabbed her elbow. "You look great. Come on."

"Akbar, will you handle things-?"

"Of course Ma'am. Enjoy your outing."

The quick brisk ride, with her legs wrapped around my waist on the Ducati was a rush. Pure undiluted pleasure. My hand went to her thigh, gripping it tight as she let go of my waist and spread her arms wide.

I chuckled into the wind.

Not many would let themselves go on a ride, but she was fearless. She had this fire, and damn it, that fire was making it hard for me to think clearly. To think of anyone or anything besides her. Instantly, her arms clamped around my ribs and I gunned the engine, shooting us forward and reviling in the thunder of my bike on the road.

The small quaint establishment was a blast from my past. A dwelling I visited when I wanted to hide from my parents or find a quick place to eat. Quickly ordering the food and having it ready to go, we rode off a few miles into the estate, away from the main house but still in its perimeters. Daania munched on her fries, holding the cardboard tray steady in her dainty hands, her eyes on the horizon.

My hands longed to trace her face as she'd traced mine, to feel every dip, memorize every curve. Fighting the urge to do just that, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath."What do you like to read?"

Daania relaxed on the bike, her eyes still on the dark landscape, now sipping on her milkshake.

"That's a random question."

"You mentioned wanting to read last night. What would have picked?"

"Anything? Everything? It depends on my mood really."

"Do you read to escape reality?"

"I read to live," our eyes held for a few moments, and a spark of mischief lit in Daania's. "And to escape reality. It's nice to see someone else suffer for a change."

"Very nice. So fantasy?"

"Amongst other things, but yeah, fiction mostly."

"Interesting."

"What about you? What would you read? If you ever had the time?"

"If I ever got the chance, anything that doesn't remind me of my work."

"Fair enough," she ran her tongue along her top lip, sucking gently."Why motorcycles?"

"Pardon?"

"Why not a traditional car? Why a motorcycle?"

"Do you think there's anything traditional about me?" she raised an eyebrow. "It was a form of rebellion. Just something different. Something that I could own."

"And now?" her voice was like a curl of smoke, swirling around us and blocking out the noise.

"Now? Now it's a way to remind me that no matter how high I go, I'll always crave the rush of the wind."

That earned me a full-blown smile. Her dark eyes sparkled and those pretty, rosy lips spread wide."So do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"The thing that had you rushing out of the house?"

I dipped my head slightly. "Have you met the people in that house?"

"I know Zeenia can be a little overwhelming, but she just had a baby and now she has to manage all these different people while worrying about a potential corporate coop," she held one arm across her stomach and used it to support her other elbow, resting her fingertips against her lips as she studied me critically.

"She'll be fine once we get the patent filed."

I tipped forward slightly as my heart exploded against the front of my chest, unease bubbling in my stomach. "Yeah about that."

Her lips parted as she sipped in air. It forced me to consider kissing her again. I wanted to examine if her mouth would be as soft and inviting as it had been the night before and if she'd sigh the same way when I slicked my tongue across hers.

"What?"

I somehow heard myself speak over the confusion in my head. "Someone is lobbying against the company."

"Would do you mean?" her mouth thinned in frustration and she placed the milkshake on the ground.

"Someone is slowing down the approval of the application. So Yayha and the team are having trouble nailing down a timeline for the process," in the most simplistic of terms.

"And you're telling me this now?" I tensed at the anger in her voice.

"I got the message before you came to find me."

"Is there nothing we can do?" she paused and raised a hand as some slight apology for considering such a thing, even though the flash in her eye said she wasn't sorry for asking me at all. The energy between us cracked with secrets, danger and desire. She wanted to know. And I couldn't tell her.

Not yet.

"Not yet. They're all going to be off for the next ten days or so."

Her expression became pained, but she reined it in. My jaw tightened and an unfamiliar sensation bloomed in the pit of my stomach.

"So after New Year?"

Soon little dragon. Soon.

"Yeah. And by then, we'll be ready to fly to Italy."

"God we need to weed these people out."

"We might have to move the vote up as well."

"How early?"

I saw the way her eyes probed me, still quite unsure where I was going with this."Maybe near the end of March. Could be April."

"Shit."

"Exactly," I surmised. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to face the truth. I never should've let her light down into the dark, closed cage I'd shackled around my heart.

Relationships in our family rarely, if ever, survive, my mother's words echoed in my mind. If I told her the truth, would she still look at me the way she did last night? Would she even want me? Would she forgive me?

"Do you have a plan?"

"I do."

"Do you want to share it?"

My mind reeled. Actualities clicking into place like tines inside of a lock once the right key was inserted, giving me access to details I never suspected.

"Not until I have the details planned out."

"Oh. What can I do?"

"For now? Stick to the program."

It was just after sunset when I finished up with my work, on the night of the rehearsal dinner, The sky was still golden and luminous. After heading up to my rooms for a quick change I saw Daania waiting for me at the foot of the stairs and I forgot all about the problems we were battling. I forgot to breathe.

She was a vision.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and my palms started to sweat. It was that feeling you got when you're almost to the top of that first hill on a roller coaster. Having her in my world could burn me. Could make me sweat until I was brought to my knees. Her presence could bring untold damage to the world I'd created.

But letting her go was going to be a problem. One I couldn't manage or afford. To give her up would mean to give up her light. To give her up would mean turning from the life she had awakened within me.

My pulse went out of rhythm, then settled back into its steady tempo. Without hesitation, the beast inside me longed to be set free to remind her that she'd been the one to fight for her presence in my life and in my arms. The beast roared to tell her I'd kill the next man who looked at her like he wanted her and touched her as if he could have her.

Instead, I took her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist, a ritual I was becoming fond of. "You look amazing."

She did. Her lips were dark rose and shiny, her hair swept up elegantly. She looked stunning.

"Thank you," she beamed, lightly brushing the plum-colored material. "I like the fact that the dinner is in the greenhouse."

"It was only possible in the winter," interest unfurled in her eyes."The greenhouse boils up pretty quickly in the summer."

"How are we getting there? Are we walking?"

"With you dressed like this? No, I've arranged for a series of golf carts, they'll take us to the venue," Zeenia's words seemed to have knocked Daania down a black hole into an alternate universe. She stood there with a strange expression on her face, her body still as a statue.

"You'll get used to it," Affandi chimed in, offering Daania a comforting smile. She smiled back, still uneasy.

"Where's Azaan?"

"He went in a little early," no doubt deployed by Zeenia to keep an eye on our wandering father. The white cart rolled to a stop and Daania hopped in, her arms shaking slightly. I got in behind her.

"Are you okay?"

She tried to continue with her blasé attitude, but it came out forced. "I'm fine."

Not wanting to push her, I sat back, my thumb pressed to the inside of her wrist. Directly on her pulse. Feeling each staggered breath, each hitched puff. We rounded behind the stables, and the greenhouse came into view. The golf cart hadn't yet come to a stop before I stepped out and held out my hand to help her out.

And then Azaan came out out of the glass structure - unsteady on his feet, his eyes bloodshot - and I warred between concern and condemnation. What the fuck was wrong with him? He zeroed in on Daania with a dopey smile.

"Daania. You're still here - I'm so glad."

Then he moved forward to hug her, causing her to move back seeking refuge behind me. Taking her hand, I automatically put myself between her and my idiot brother.

"What is wrong with you?" I could not stop myself from hissing. "Are you drunk?"

"No," he scoffed."I'm medicated."

"Azaan," anxiety ringed in Zeenias voice like the ping of a tapped crystal glass, her expression as friendly as the grim reaper's."I can not believe you would be so irresponsible. You know how important this is!"

"I am not. I was fine, I swear," he rubbed his forehead."And then daddy dearest opened his mouth, and I decided to get medicated."

For the love of God. Not my parents. Not today.

Zeenia swatted the air with her hands, leaning against Affandi, like that would help sober him up. She moved Affandi to the side and stepped closer to Azaan, his bleary eyes landing on me.

"So...what's new?"

And I smacked him.

Hard.

Blinking owlishly, he reached for the spot I'd struck. "Fuck! What the hell?"

"What the hell? It's my rehearsal dinner and you're pissed off drunk."

"I'm just trying to cope. You should try it mister abstinence, but you always hated losing control."

Daania glanced at me, unsure, then returned her attention to the mess in front of her. The look of shock on her face sliced through me as sharply as a blade. Apprehension washed through me at her look, seemingly scathed by the current situation.

"Maybe we should just all go in."

"Yeah, they're all waiting for you... can you imagine? Them waiting for you because you're the bride and groom and not because they actually care," he meant money- they cared about our money because that's what these people ever really cared about.

Zeenia eked out half of a pained smile and typed on her phone. "We'll just tell everyone that he got sick."

"Who's going to take him back to the manor?"

"I'll do it," Akbar came out of the shadows and offered his shoulder to Azaan, his troubled gaze on mine, no doubt wondering why he was putting up with our shit.

"Just get him to his room Akbar, I'll make sure he realizes what he's done tomorrow," Azaan let out a strangled gasp, and I could see the tremor of fear as it vibrated through every layer of his inebriated body. Akbar nodded and guided him to the cart.

"So, I guess it's damage control time?"

My head flung wildly to the side, trying to take in every detail of Daania's expression, but it was the equivalent of trying to catalog every star in the universe. There were so many.

"You don't have to do this."

"Of course we do, there's no backing now," color returned to her face-it always did when she was determined to defy me. She placed her hand in the crook of my arm."Let's go."

I didn't take in the decor. I didn't think either one of us was in the right frame of mind to do so. We just jumped into the fray, shaking hands, offering smiles, trying to contain the damage. As we moved through the crush, the crowd drew together with smiles and comradery, pulling us apart in two different currents.

Watching Daania struggle with a group of older women had me excusing myself and swearing under my breath. I pushed off the wall and into the throng of people. Blonde, brown, brown, red... I gave up on remembering the names of the faces of the people for a moment, focusing only on the woman in front of me, keeping my eyes on my wife.

I caught the way her spine tensed, sensing my gaze and feeling me, as I watched her. I didn't understand why she tensed, it wasn't because of my constant pursuit of her, no.

It was because of a tall slender body coming my way.

My world - the one that spun on revenge and restitution - came to a grinding halt, frozen by an unwelcome and a very familiar face. And like the clouds blowing across the sun on a summer day, the memories of my past invaded and twisted the vines tighter around my chest.

A muscle in my jaw ticked, as she bypassed my wife.

"Hello, Taimoor."

It was that disgusting meek voice that, at this moment, made me want to tear her vocal chords right out of her throat. I imagined wrapping my hands around her throat. Squeezing until her face turned ghostly white. The very foundation of her had been a lie, and everything on top of that had only been a frosting of fabrications. Only from the darkness had I seen how blinding her false facade was.

"It's been a long time."

"Not nearly long enough."

All my muscles tensed. The rage in my voice must have reached her loud and clear, because she slowly shifted her gaze, eyes wide and cautious as if a monster stood before her. The same look she'd given me when they'd unwrapped them bandages on my face after the accident.

A look of pure disgust and repulsiveness.

"Let me offer my sincere congra-"

"Don't bother," I cut her off, never wanting to hear her voice or see her again.

Life had the charming ability to dish out more pain than we deserved, and in most cases, it was inflicted by the very people we used to consider our own.

༻✺༺
Here's your update! It's filled with stuff. I was going to make the chapter longer but I realized we hadn't dived into Taimoor's feelings and thought maybe we should explore them a bit. Also, it would have been extremely long. But yeah. Things are going down the drain. Whoops.

God this is the longest wedding in history. But, eventful 🤓 Thoughts? Comments? Feedback?

See you on Monday 👋🏽
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