Taimoor

❞𝖂ill you at least listen to me?" she hissed. Anger and shame slithered over her face like a pit of snakes, writhing and strangling her from the inside. "This isn't proper. Let me talk to my parents. Forcing me to go with you isn't a good look."

"Later."

"Why not now? This makes no sense!"

She could say that again. None of this made any sense. Not the intense possessiveness I felt watching that shit piece of a cousin try to hurt her. Not the urge to pummel him six feet into the ground seeing the marks on her neck and the rapidly turning purple bruise on her face.

"How did he know you'd be working late?"

"I don't know! He mentioned that someone had let him up. How did you know I was there?"

The phone rang and I held up a finger to silence her. "Speak."

"The police have seen the footage. He entered the building, charmed the receptionist, met a tall dark-haired man on the previous floor she worked on, and then came to the top floor."

"Keep me updated," I muttered before disconnecting the call, my body hungering for violence. Having her close eased me some. It soothed the beast I kept chained inside. Ensured that I wouldn't go tumbling into the dark.

"Asad," she said, clearly eavesdropping into the conversation.

"Asad who?"

"Asad from IT. Ghazanfar mentioned him but I-"

"He probably thought he was a relative," her mouth formed an angry pout and I watched the action like a fool, captivated.

"Shouldn't I go to the doctor? To have an examination? So they can include this in the FIR?"

I typed a quick message to Akbar. "She'll meet you at the house."

"I still don't understand why this is necessary. He's in police custody. It's not like he's going to come after me."

"He came after me, so yes, this is necessary," she froze, our gazes colliding in a fiery clash.

"I'm not your possession."

"Never said that."

"You implied that."

"Why do you always go for the worst possible interpretation?"

"Your tone leads me there."

A cruel, joyless smile spread across my face like wildfire. "It could also lead you somewhere else."

She looked up at me for a moment, her expression closed. I was being an ass, I knew that. She was traumatized and shaken but I couldn't help it. The flush in her cheeks, the rapid rise of her chest had me wanting more. It didn't make sense, which pissed me off. This was supposed to be simple. I had planned it that way. Ruining Mansoor Khan and using him as bait to further my plans was easy to execute and easier to profit from, and if I'd known his daughter would become a part of my life, all innocent and embarrassed and trying her level best to fight with me...

I still would've done it.

An unexpected surprise—the intense attraction between us, a nuisance I'd thought that needed to be avoided, but well, here we were. Here we fucking were.

"Where are we going?" it was a deliberate question from her, intended to move away from anything suggestive.

"Mughal House," panic and unease flitted across her face as she bit her lip, her hands coming up to tuck a wayward strand of her hair.

I took in a deep controlling breath and looked away.

"How long will I be staying? A day? Two days at most?" her question was a mere whisper, a frightened plea in the dark.

"As long as I deem necessary," I didn't have to see her eyes to know they would be burning; I could feel them, setting my soul ablaze, mentally dousing me in kerosene as she stepped back to admire the flames. "Ask your sister to send over the bare necessities. Everything else will be provided to you."

She glanced out the window and watched the road speeding by. "You're making a mistake."

As we drove closer to the house, the high of the fight faded and I started to grow antsy. Having her in the house would lead to complications. The scope of what I'd gotten myself into was finally starting to hit me. By the time we pulled up to the elaborate scrolled iron gate surrounded by the high stone wall, I was sure I was making a mistake.

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The Mercedes rolled to a stop and she stared at the house, squinting at it in the dark.

She tilted her head and gazed quizzically at me from under a pair of long, black lashes. "Who's that?" she stared out of the window, her eyes taking in the shape. "Is that Affandi?"

I followed her gaze and groaned.

Standing in front of the massive front door, next to my housekeeper, with his legs braced wide and his arms crossed over his chest stood Affandi, in regulation black everything, wearing an expression like he was about to launch a nuclear war.

The doors opened and we got out, the girl clutching my suit jacket around her slender shoulders, shivering from the early November frost, her ring glinting in the dim moonlight. A primal sense of ownership flowed through me and I bit back a satisfied smile.

"Mrs. Khan can you take my wife inside and have her situated comfortably?"

"Are you okay Daania? Where are the bruises from?"

"I'm fine, I just-"

"Mrs. Khan, will you please escort Mrs. Mughal to her rooms?"

Mrs. Khan gently guided her to the house, the tiny but plump woman navigating the distance with ease, her warm gaze on the girl, her posture fiercely protective. "Come this way, Ma'am."

Heat crawled up the little dragon's neck and suffused her cheeks at my curt dismissal.

Affandi stood peering at me with narrowed eyes, his head cocked. As soon as she was out of hearing range, he snapped. "What is she doing here Taimoor?"

I kept my expression neutral and turned to study him. "She's my wife, she's supposed to live with me in my house."

"As if you actually cared about that," I gave him a tight smile and turned on my heel, striding my way into the house, away down the echoing hallway, turning a corner, and walking to the study, letting him trail after me. "She's a girl who's scared."

"She's not scared of me," a fact that irritated me constantly. My normally blank face austere, I felt a spurt of annoyance. I knew my longtime friend had something to say, and normally he was more than liberal with his words.

"Not of you, of her circumstances," he opened the small wooden box resting on the table in front of me, inspecting the selection of pens, half of them gifted by Zeenia. "Wait, did you kidnap her?"

"No."

"Did you drug her?"

"Do I look like a mafia lord?"

"I've never met one," his tone was uncertain. "Why is she here Taimoor? Zeenia will go ballistic!"

"She was attacked and assaulted by that idiot cousin of hers. Zeenia and her sensibilities can take a backseat," and her waste of oxygen cousin had seen my face. No doubt he was going to spin stories out of this whole encounter, trying to get ahead of anything I would say. The charismatic bastard would bad mouth me and people would believe him. Everyone wanted to believe the good looking man with a golden reputation. No one would sympathize with a raging beast.

Monster.

The familiar slur sent a shot of anger through my veins and I refocused my attention on my overly concerned brother-in-law.

"Shit. Is she okay?"

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. A shadow moved near the door and my entire body froze. Was it a trick of the light?

"She's fine," shaken, bruised but not broken. Not the little dragon.

"And her parents are okay with this?"

Had I imagined the shadow? Had I imagined the movement near the door? A patch of light blinked briefly. I didn't know-how. I didn't know why but someone was listening.

"What other choice do they have?" they would have to be okay with it. Her father would be an issue but I'd sent Akbar to explain the situation to them. If his behavior at the wedding was any indication, the stubborn man still thought he had a say. That he had any control over my wife, the White Rose, or his life for that matter.

"I know you guys are missing a sensitivity chip, but she isn't. She's a good-hearted, pure, sheltered girl Taimoor. She's been through a traumatic event. You can't keep playing hot and cold with her, or her family."

I ignored his argument, hating his protectiveness towards the girl. He wasn't wrong. We did lack some measure of empathy. My mouth curled up in a self-deprecating smile. "Sensitivity chip? Really?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," I did. When he'd met her, Zeenia had been on a path of self-destruction. With the company in my care, the tragedy, and our absentee parents, I had little time to check in with my sister. I never thought I'd needed to. Not until Affandi had stepped in and made us realize our selfish hedonistic ways. "Having a woman, especially your wife, in the house with you isn't a game. You're living with her. You can't escape her presence and proximity. You can't just uproot her and hide her like a dirty secret. Are you sure you're up for it?"

"If you think I'm going to throw myself at her feet," I glared at Affandi, trying not to think about those doe eyes and that smart mouth. "That's not going to happen. She's not my type."

At least that was the truth. She was definitely not my type. Too soft, too desirable, too emotional. Too human.

"You mean she's too good for you?" he smiled at my obvious annoyance, his mouth hardening as something seemed to occur to him."Is she pursuing this as a case?"

"She wants to. I've pacified her for the moment."

"What did you say to her?"

"She wants the police to handle it. So I'll handle it discreetly," and ensure his ruin. Personally. The prick was going to rue the day he was born. The idiot thought he could get away with assaulting my wife. He deserved to be put into the ground.

"What if it leaks out to the media? It'll ruin her reputation."

"It'll ruin mine too. The board will have another excuse to keep Dad in charge," his eyes whipped back to mine and glared right through me. There was no mercy, no softness in his stony expression, so I knew there would be none in his reply either.

"You're not going to pursue it because of your reputation? Are you mad? Can you be more of an asshole?"

"Not the last time I checked," I wasn't going to pursue this legally. Not through the police and not immediately.

I heard it again.

I wasn't imagining it. I wasn't that lost. My eyes narrowed at the shadows, feeling how angry she was by my statement. I wanted her to come in and confront me. To fight with me. To give me a reason to stroke that fire within her. I wanted to see her as desire and fury strangled her body, lit her up, made her glow.

"That's not fair to her Taimoor," his eyes narrowed like I wasn't good enough to have her. "How long will you keep her here?"

"As long as I want," it wasn't like the law or anyone could do anything about it. Legally, she was mine. She belonged by my side. "Why are you here?"

"I have your investment portfolios. Remember? The stuff you insisted and bullied me into handling?"

"You could have dropped it at the office."

"You've been avoiding the office. Your secretary told mine that I'd find you in your study, where you've been hiding since your wedding."

I ignored the jibe. "You can't tell Zeenia about this."

"And risk the baby? No way man. I'm not hiding anything from her, I don't want to increase her stress levels. You know how she is, she needs to be informed about everything."

"When is she due?"

"January," disappointment powered on in Affandi's eyes."You're her brother, you should know this."

I winced with guilt. "I've got a lot on my plate."

"You could, I don't know, be a decent person and try to maintain your relationship."

I settled back in my chair, giving him a bland look. "Now, why would I do that?"

He stood up to leave, his back straight."It doesn't have to be this way you know? You don't have to be cut off and alone."

"I know you went for therapy Asfandyaar. It didn't give you the license to psychoanalyze me."

"No, just to tell you," Affandi leaned against the table and dipped his head."You could have more. There's no harm in reaching for more."

More.

More was a very relative and a very dangerous word. More meant her. More conjured up spending time with her. More time with her could only lead to more trouble. The little dragon.

After his quiet exit, I discarded those thoughts with bristling annoyance. She was not my problem. Or my concern. I pushed those thoughts aside and finished my work for the day before I went in search of Mrs. Khan. I found her in the foyer, trying to manage the collection of vases I'd ordered to be donated.

"Oh!" she gasped. "I didn't hear you, sir."

"Not to worry, I was on my way to my rooms."

Something was odd about her. She seemed out of sorts and a little tired. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

I toyed with the wedding band on my finger, trying to figure out how to phrase my query.

"How is Mrs. Mughal?" I asked.

"Fine," she answered with a hint of confusion. "Last I saw, she was in the library. The check-up with the doctor had left her tired. I did suggest a quick nap. But other than that—"

"I would like you to inform her that she is to have dinner with me this evening."

A small hint of a smile brightened her face. "Oh, yes of course. Would you like something special?"

"No, the usual would be fine," I turned on my heel and paused."Oh, and I want it to be a private setting."

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She was late, again. The low light from the crystal chandelier threw dark shadows around the room. The dark mahogany doors stayed still as the clock inched towards nine-thirty and my anger spiked with each tick.

"Sir," Mrs. Khan and Akbar inched into the room, their steps hesitant.

I tipped my head back just enough for my blazing eyes to capture theirs, watching them almost shrink back from the burn of my glare."Where is she?"

"She-"

"What?"

"She declined."

"She what?" I snarled, lifting a green and white bowl from its stand and contemplating throwing it into the low flames of the hearth.

"She said that she wasn't going to dine with you as there is no reason for her to do so."

I stopped dead to stare at them, my eyes boring into theirs, placing the bowl on the table, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides."Fine, I'll go talk to her then."

"She isn't opening the door. She was very polite about it," of course she was. Her fury was reserved for me alone. The tension rose to the ceiling as the two of them stood there in silence, worried about how I would react. If I would force her out of her rooms.

She was trying to punish me. Trying to make a fool out of me in my own house.

"That's all," I waved the two of them away focusing on the elegant spread on the table, settling down to eat. Going to her was only going to create a scene. She wasn't going to listen to me and I wasn't going to beg. I wasn't going to bend and I definitely wasn't going to break.

If she wanted to play hardball, we would play hardball.

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For two days, meals were delivered and left outside her door. I went to my office or sat in my study, pacing the length of the room, thinking, regretting, worrying, trying to conjure a strategy that might end this madness. The girl wasn't responding to anyone in any way. She'd opened the door for her stylist, but that was it and that was a day ago. She wasn't eating properly, probably not even sleeping properly, only nibbling on her food, leaving most of it untouched. At this rate, she was going to either die from starvation or become extremely malnutritioned.

She hadn't responded to my messages, which I understood. She hadn't responded to Zeenia's messages, something Zeenia had taken to heart and if I didn't act soon, I'd have my sister at my doorstep with a very disapproving Affandi behind her, ready to reign havoc on me and my staff.

Placing the coffee on my desk, Akbar ran a careful hand through his hair, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched Mrs. Khan take another tray to the girl's room. For some reason, my household had taken a liking to her and were now in distress, distracted and fawning over the young mistress.

Just like their master.

"What is it Akbar?"

"I'm worried about her."

I pinned him with my gaze. "I didn't know I was paying you for that."

"I have some advice, though whether you choose to listen to me is up to you."

"Let me put this simply, then," my voice came out grim. "Anything with regards to the lady is unsolicited and unwelcome."

"I've known you since you were a child. You struggle with your emotions but you're not cruel."

"What do you suggest I do? Grovel at her feet?" I demanded. "She was the one who refused to have dinner with me. She's the one who refuses to leave her rooms."

"Talk to her. She's scared, still reeling from her trauma. She's lost her freedom and her family all in one day. A few words from her husband could ease her worries."

I scoffed at his words. If there had been any sort of understanding between us before, any hope for friendship, it was long gone now. She would rather shoot me dead than listen to anything I had to say. She'd announced her battle cry. The trumpets had been blown. There was no going back from it now.

Akbar raised an eyebrow and I sighed. This man was more of a father to me than my own father. If he was pushing for me to do this, it was time for an intervention however ill-fated it might turn out to be.

Determined, I strode to her side of the house, stopping before I unlocked the door using the antique master key. As though she could smell the flare of my ire—the air warmed with her hunger for vengeance—the pacing on the other side of the door ceased. Smoothing a hand over my already perfectly tousled hair, I opened it with a glare in place.

And was struck in the head by a candle stand.

I swayed but only momentarily, catching my murderous wife with my arms looped around her.

She squirmed and raged, legs flying behind her to kick me in the shins, breathing fire. I didn't care. I barely felt it. I carried her back inside her rooms and set her on her feet, taking in her swirling brown eyes and the heaving of her small chest.

What the hell was she wearing? What the actual fucking hell.

The silk camisole set was nearly transparent. The blush pink creating a striking contrast to her dark dusky skin. She wasn't indecent, far from it. But looking at her in a sleeveless silk top, with a plunging neckline and clingy silk pajamas left very little to my imagination. My mood unraveled further as my eyes caught on the delicate lace overlay of her bodice and the flushed expanse that rose above it.

I nearly lost my mind, my morals, and my good sense right there and then.

Noticing where my attention had landed, she snarled and I wiped my face clean of any emotion. Decadent brown eyes glared daggers at mine and I wondered if her whole body could become as red as her face.

"Has being hungry caused you to lose your senses?" I kicked the candle stand out of the way and closed the door as something trickled down my hairline. This woman was a force to be reckoned with. Fascinating. She'd drawn first blood.

Vicious little dragon.

She narrowed her eyes and then dropped them to the carpet before the bed, long lashes cresting her hollow cheeks, the bruises on her face and neck now a dark black. "Just... go away."

"Great answer," I replied, feeling a twist in my gut. "Why aren't you eating?" her silence was telling, loud in the way it spoke of all we both already knew. "You heard me in the study. If you think I'm going to apologize for what I said-"

She rolled her eyes. "I know better than to expect that."

"Then what's with the hunger strike?" an odd mixture of guilt and curiosity blended together and tightened the band in my chest.

"I didn't feel like eating."

"You need to eat. Starving yourself won't convince me to let you go. Suicide would only mean mutual ruin. And you won't run away from me either, you know why?" I stepped forward and rubbed my thumb over her soft plump bottom lip and watched her pupils explode with her rush of breath before she stepped away. "Because I'd find you," I said, gently, softly, trying to get the message across. Trying to make her understand.

"I'm well aware of the position I am."

"The position- " I scowled, my body becoming harder than it had ever been before in my life, pushing at its confines in such a way that I knew if she brushed past me, she would feel it. I could imagine in her all kinds of positions now. On the bed, against the wall, on her knees, back arching as she pushed back... Goddamn it. My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose, willing my body to calm down."This isn't about positions."

"No this is about you being a caveman and locking me up."

"You're not locked up. You're to stay here until things get sorted out."

"What things? Things you're not ready to pursue?" a lick of shame trudged up to my spine. A better man would have apologized, but I wasn't much of a gentleman, not anymore. Though for some inane reason, she made me want to remember how to be one. "Oh right, my mistake. I actually thought you cared."

"You're free to roam around."

"I know," her eyes met mine, and resentment, not gratitude, shone in them for a long moment before her eyelashes lowered with demure, if false, obeisance. She was not accustomed to taking orders from anyone, even though her family was the kind who would force her to do so. She would have been raised to be the perfect, biddable wife, but clearly, the little dragon did not fit that mold by a long shot.

"And yet you've locked yourself up in your room."

"I didn't want to explore the confines of my prison."

"You're not a prisoner. As soon as it's safe, you can go back to work."

"See that's where the problem is, that should be my decision. When and if I want to go back to work."

"There's no if about it. You're supporting your family. They're relying on your income, you have to go back to work," a hint of hurt passed over her eyes before it was gone.

"It should be my decision."

And though every sense warned against opening my mouth, I did it anyway. "Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"Why are you so hell-bent on controlling me?"

"I'm trying to take care of you."

"No, you're trying to make sure that there's no spillover. If you wanted to take care of me, you would have done what I'd asked of you. You would have listened to me," she smoothed a dark strand of hair from her face, attempting to gather her words."You're forcing your decisions on me. I thought this was supposed to be a partnership?"

"It is."

"Then prove it."

Prove it.

I could have done a lot of things—laughed or smirked at her words. But I didn't. I stared at her like her words hadn't registered. Boringly blank. "I don't have to prove anything. You'll join me for dinner tomorrow and that's not a request. Enough of these childish games."

Storm clouds rolled into her eyes, and her lips parted, speechless, for the first time in perhaps forever. She looked hurt by this. As if these words were more than she could bear and fuck, I felt that. I felt something. I felt—I vanished before she said something that set fire to my blood and I did something reckless. Before I bent her over that bed to explore what I knew my words, my touch, my presence could dampen.

I vanished to my rooms, and in the silence, the roar of my blood in my ears helped drown the one that ravaged my throat.

Thank you! I love this edit @qanootshahid14 🖤

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Baby let the games begin 🌚 Are you ready for it?

These were the longest five days of my life 😭😭😭😭 I've wanted to share this chapter with you for so long! As promised, I've written a longer chapter. Also, weirdly, I'm enjoying writing from Taimoor's point of view. He's so much more liberating and fun to write.

So, comments, feedback? Thoughts? The story has just gotten interesting. The next update is on Sunday (I knooooow) but consistent updates are better than no updates, right? RIGHT? 😭

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