𝕽aw.

Raw, terrified, and conflicted. That's what I felt when I picked my way back to my room. I hadn't bothered with dinner. I didn't know if he had either.

We'd barely made it an hour. It had taken all of thirty minutes for us to tear each other apart.

Kicking off my shoes, so much for wearing them, feelings of neglect hurt, and panic filtered through me. Somehow, I felt like I should find him and apologize for my harsh words. Another part of me rebelled from the idea. Why should I? He deserved those words.

He had played me. He had poked and prodded at a wound I'd long convinced myself didn't exist. This whole thing had been a game to him. And who could blame him? I'd played with his head, he'd played with mine.

He was just a lot better at it than I was.

More ruthless too.

Unzipping and tossing the dress on the chaise, my body collapsed on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. My relationship with Baba was a mess. We were just too alike. We were both headstrong, stubborn individuals, and to top it all off, I'd been cursed with my mother's temper.

But I loved him.

How could I not? Despite all of his flaws, he was still my father. He was still the man who had held my hand for my first day at school. The same man who'd championed me at my dance recitals. The man who had tried to balance his passion for his work and his love for his daughters, ignoring all the hearsay he heard from the people around him. The man who had taught me how to fight. To stand up for myself. How could I just disregard all the things he had done to hold him accountable for something he didn't do? Or something that was, in all fairness, beyond his capacity.

That little stunt had caused me to lose some of the best years of my life. Baba had succumbed to his upbringing, to the generalizations created by society and I'd suffered for it. Both of us knew he had broken my heart. His regret and apologies could never heal what he'd destroyed. And he hadn't tried. He hadn't tried to bridge that gap. The whole family had just collectively decided to move on. What else could we have done? There was no other option.

Until now.

Taimoor finally had what he'd wanted. What been pushing for. He wanted me to be selfish. Wanted me to give in to the darkness within me. Well, here it was. I hated his connection with my father. Hated how casually he had tossed that information at me, mocking me, using it like an arrow to pierce the small chunk in my armor. I loathed not knowing. I loathed being left out. I loathed being on the defensive. And the fact that he'd shared something with Baba made me jealous. It made me wildly possessive and jealous. Jealous that Baba had found someone worthy of his attention, maybe even his affection. That in Taimoor, he'd found someone he could share his passions with. Baba had probably gone out of his way to teach him how to play chess. Never had Baba once mentioned it. Not even when he was an employee at the company. Why didn't he tell me he had known him so intimately? That they had spent time together?

I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.

And if they'd been this close, who knew how far would Taimoor go to destroy my father. Who truly knew of the bad blood between the two.

I thought I'd taken the brunt of his anger. I thought I'd bartered enough of my freedom and self-respect to direct his attention to me. Not enough. Not nearly enough. He knew my father too well. He knew me too well. He'd threatened to have me kidnapped. How much of that had been a bluff? His ambition was too big to be pushed aside for a mere project. If it wasn't for his grandfather's will, would he have let me go? Technically, I only had a month left in his employment. Would that have been it? Theoretically at least, I would have had the freedom to walk away. But would he have let me walk away?

Baba's warnings echoed in my head.

'He won't leave us alone.'

And now that I'd seen his behavior. Seen his actions, I wasn't so sure. The mere fact that Taimoor had just picked me up and deposited me into his house, was enough to scare me.

'Whatever he's promised you, he won't stick to it. There will always be a catch to his promises.'

What was I missing here? What was the catch? He could choose to never let me go.

And I would never be able to escape.

Why was I not scared of that? Why did I trust him? He had been clear from the start. His actions had been decisive and final. He'd brushed aside my assault case to protect his reputation. But he hadn't hesitated to punch Ghazanfar in the face. He'd sacrifice me in a heartbeat to get what he wanted.

But, in some way, so would I. Hell, we'd both trampled on the sacred institution of marriage to get what we wanted. To protect what and who we loved. We were equally perverse in our desire to achieve our goals. To do what was necessary.

And the attraction. Holy hell, the attraction was the problem in all of this. I did not think he considered it when we negotiated this. I definitely hadn't. Whatever feelings and reservations I had towards him, disappeared, evaporated into the air when he was in a room with me. My body hummed in his presence, attuned to his every move, craving his attention. Living together had made it worse. It had heightened every thought, every dream, splashing color into the black and white dreamscape and expanding on all of the possibilities of what could be.

And there was absolutely no way to fight it.

I slammed my pillow over my head and screamed.

This whole relationship screamed toxicity. If a friend came up to me and explained my situation to me, I would have told her to run. Run as far as she was able to. And this whole mess didn't even cover the one Zeenia had hinted at earlier in the day.

The Mughal family was a royal mess. Senior Mughal was a notorious womanizer, who hated his wife but loved her wealth. Mrs. Mughal was a sad caricature of an American trophy wife, traveling the world with her friends and blowing her money on the world's best plastic surgeons. Her youngest son, Azaan, was the typical rich boy standout, captain of the rowing team at Harvard, pursuing a shiny law degree. Apart from the usual dysfunctional elements, what else could Zeenia have been hinting at? What was she pointing towards?

Indecision and disgust and hatred and something else I didn't want to acknowledge had my limbs tangling in the bedding until the moon had risen high beyond the windows. Darkness gathered in patches over the floor and in the corners of the room, broken only by lighter shadows that bobbed and drifted.

There was so much I did not know. So much that no one was telling me. Where did I even start?

༻✺༺

Two nightmares and a sunrise later, I scarfed down my breakfast and hurried to get ready.

I felt like a child waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. Ready to go, I lounged in the foyer, hoping to catch him before he left. I had no idea if he was going to honor our new deal. He could just walk away and leave me stranded.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and I straightened up, quickly fixing my hair and grabbing my bag.

"Tell Aziz we'll take the Bently today," we. Thank God. "I see you're ready to escape."

No mention of last night. Nothing.

"Only for a few hours."

"Won't be a few hours. We'll go to the office, grab my things and come back. I have to fly for Dubai at nine, so you'll be working from here for a couple of days."

What the hell? "But-"

"You go with me and you come back with me. That was what we agreed on," mother- "Save that expression for another time. You still have to meet your security detail."

That conniving, petty piece of crap. And to think I was ready to apologize. Well, he could have that apology once he decided to stop acting like a brat.

We sat in the car and he practically glued himself to his door, his suit jacket folded on the seat between us. The sleeves of his black button-down were flipped up to mid-forearm, revealing corded muscles and more skin. Scrolling through his phone with the pad of one thumb, he stroked at the underside of his stubbly jaw with the other. The screen shifted so quickly, it was hard for me to imagine he was even processing any of the information.

To say I'd sulked my way through the introductions with my three-person security team was an understatement. A lump materialized in my throat, and I swallowed it down. In my fight with Taimoor, I'd forgotten about the threat plaguing me. Ghazanafar was out on bail and I still wasn't safe.

After a brief introduction, the head of the team, Scorpio, an imported hire, with a shaved head and a tattoo sleeve running up his left arm, was tasked with standing by the elevator, repeatedly scaring Jibran half to death. Two more men, local hires, Kaleem and Qasim, were told to wait in the lobby, where they would follow me when we left the office.

True to his word, Taimoor left for Dubai a couple of hours later, leaving me to languish in Mughal House for two whole days. Two days where I was bored out of my mind, memorizing and researching on the twenty-four board members of Mughal Co. Twelve of them were from Pakistan, where the company originated, six of them resided in Europe and six of them were part of the North American division. By the end of the first afternoon, I could recite the whole dossier by heart.

"How are you holding up sweetie?" I glanced up to see Mrs. Khan's beaming face, a silver tray in her hands. "I've brought your tea."

My lips pulled up in an exhausted smile.

"I'm fine. I have enough work to keep me busy," I answered gesturing to my laptop and the papers strewn around it.

"I know how you feel," she placed the tray down and started to pour the tea out. "I remember when my husband used to be away. It was miserable, and I ached like half of me was missing."

I was not sure what to say. The concept of loving someone other than my family so much that I put them first was almost completely foreign to me. It was not the operating system I saw in my parents' marriage, or in any of the marriages I saw growing up.

"Huh," Mrs. Khan's brows creased at that, deepening the lines upon her face.

"Stay strong ma'am. He'll be home soon."

He was home soon. And right on time.

Two days later, a joyful Akbar came to collect me, telling me that Taimoor was waiting for me at the office. A familiar ache spread from my heart outward, flowing through my veins as it belonged there. Despite not having seen Taimoor for days, for which I was thankful, he wasn't ever far from my thoughts. Or dreams.

Once I was dressed, in slim black pants, stiletto ankle boots, and a silky mist-colored camisole under my black lambskin blazer, I felt a little more confidant, in control, and ready to meet him. I jumped into the car before I could rethink it, planting my heels on the foot mat in an effort to stop the giddiness from overflowing.

I should have known better.

"Why is Jibran telling me that he works for you now?"

Tom Ford, if my eyes were right, and my eyes was unfailing when it came to him—lay against him like a lover. He wore it with a white, open-collared silk shirt without a tie, his hair in it's usual crafted mess and I approved.

"Oh yeah, I needed a personal assistant," his gaze followed me as I placed my stuff on my desk, watching him from the corner of my eyes.

"And you chose mine?"

"He applied. It was a very intense screening process."

He held out his hands for the papers and I deliberately brushed my fingers with his. I couldn't help it. The magnetic pull to him whenever we touched had always been strong, but it didn't compare to the awareness flooding down through my body now. Had this connection amplified itself a thousand times from his absence? Becoming more electric and fierce, stealing my breath.

He felt it too because it knocked him back a half-step.

Taimoor's expression filled with confusion, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. He lifted his chin and pulled his guard back in place, returning to the calm, controlled man I was more familiar with and locked his fingers tighter around mine.

"Since I'm without an assistant now and I don't have the time to find one, the pleasure of the job now falls on you," I sucked in a breath as his grip claimed around my wrist. So small in his large hand, as it sat there a moment, I lost the little control I'd had, finally meeting his eyes.

"That's not in my job description."

"You're to do whatever task I ask you to," he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, staying there. I went boneless. My mind was disconnected like he'd pulled it out and plugged in a new operating system that was controlled by him. That would explain why I didn't pull away. His body curled around me, shielding me from prying eyes, his hand on the desk, playing with the files there. "Learn to pick your battles little dragon, you can't win all of them."

I groaned my frustration, balled my hands into fists, and turned to lift my gaze to his. "You-"

Too close. We were too close. From here I could see his puckered skin, could almost press my lips to his cheek. I tried to pull free by wiggling my arm, but he didn't budge. The look in his penetrating eyes was carnal. My breathing became uneven, my heartbeat sharp and bruising.

This was a cruel form of punishment.

"You'll find that your new assistant can help you out with this," he gripped my chin, latching gazes with me. "I'd suggest getting to your feet. You've got a busy day ahead," he continued, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll see you at seven."

And that was that.

The day passed with a mind-bending routine and pent-up anticipation. We stayed silent on the car ride back home, my eyes tracking the pale-gold swatches, tinged with pink and orange, appeared first, catching on the edges of the brown maze and gilding them in light. This was turning into another one of our games. To tease and then to withdraw.

As the sun dipped into the darkness, the shimmering hues spun and danced, bidding farewell to the world afresh in color, I arrived for dinner in another dress, in an emerald green color, fitted over my chest and shoulders, flaring out from the waist, my legs accentuated by kitten heels.

Taimoor was already there, looking sexy as fuck as he sat back against his couch and crossed his arms, his Cartier watch peeking out from behind a sleeve cuff. His hair was dark in the low light, and his angular face and expression were darker still. He was a wolf watching its next meal from the shadows, planning exactly when to strike, ready for his revenge. Anxiety twisted me tightly, and the heated blood flowing through my system left me jittery and quivering.

A sinister knowing smile tugged at his lips.

Sweat threatened the back of my neck.

He was not going to go easy on me, I was going to get decimated tonight.

And I did. He beat me at chess. Again.

I stared at the floor trying to compose myself, trying to anticipate what he would do next. Wondering if he would walk away again or if this time, he would stay.

"This could go two ways."

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have said what I said. It was-" a different kind of pressure built inside me as I recalled the memory. Violent and dark. "That wasn't me."

"That's where you're wrong. That was you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You're insane you know that right?"

"Insanely right?"

"I-"

"I won't be in the city for the next couple of days," not again.

"I won't be going to the office then?"

"No."

I still wasn't forgiven. Damn it."That's not fair. I have a whole security detail now! I'm sure Scorpio is more than capable of protecting me."

"No."

"But-"

"No to the office. No to the long hours. You can go to your parent's house, or to the events with Zeenia and that's it."

"Great, you've got your sister babysitting me."

"She needs the practice."

"Only because you want that seat on the board."

"I never implied otherwise."

I reacted on instinct, bolting to my feet and my gaze flying toward the door. I wanted to run. But if I did, my bluff would be called.

"Fine. I'll behave. This time."

I had only breathed the last syllable before he got up and yanked me hard against his front, my body molding like the needy coagulation of desire it was against him. His lips grazed over my ear, and my lungs grew tight with uncertainty. "You'll see that it's in your best interest to comply."

Shocked, I moved away, scrambling towards the exit and hating myself for it but too afraid he'd back out of the agreement we'd already made. "I wouldn't count on it."

༻✺༺

He wasn't going to be home for the whole week. A whole week of nothing to do. There was a feeling in my chest, heavy, and unstable, and consuming. The staff had tried to make the time pass easier. I didn't know if they missed their master or they were just being nice to the new mistress but they were going above and beyond. Akbar had placed a list of books he'd curated for me, placing the list with the selected books on the main table, before leaving with Taimoor. Mrs. Khan consistently spoiled me with her cooking, whipping up treats such as pastries and crumpets to feed me. Roses were trimmed and picked from the gardens only to be placed in the vases scattered around my rooms in freshly made bouquets.

Their kindness had been jarring and unexpected but not unwelcome.

To break the monotony, Zeenia came to collect me for a charity game on Saturday. Almost half an hour in and it was the most boring thing I'd ever been to. It was loud with conversation and laughter, aided by food and sweetened liquids. The event appeared to be well attended, and the space was crowded, full of the finest families the city had to offer. We rounded behind the stables, watching the playing field come into view. Staff had placed outdoor couches, tables, and portable heaters in a semi-circle for the audience of the game, and currently, the guests milled about the area, the wives grouped together, and the men evaluating their equipment and safety gear.

Two of the board members and their families were here in the crowd somewhere.

Zeenia stood next to me, looking politely interested, balancing herself only God knew how in those six-inch stilettos and I could bet my shiny new earrings that she was bored out of her mind.

"Please tell me there's some sort of relief from this torture."

"Try saying that with your smile in place."

"How does this look?"

"Like you're slightly insane," she answered, genuine amusement flashing on her features.

"Great, so I fit in with the family."

"Touchè," she raised her glass in acknowledgment and sipped the fruity liquid. "There he is. Jalal Talpur."

My eyes tracked the man who had his arm around a beautiful young woman. "Who's next to him? That's not his wife."

"Fucking hell," her curse caught me by surprise. "That's his... ah, campaign head. Most of the board members have trouble staying faithful to their wives, he's no exception. But I assumed he'd taken precautions during his indiscretions now he was running for Parliament."

He'd make an excellent politician. He was packaged correctly with wealth, looks, a strong background, and little moral conviction.

"That's just great. And I'm assuming the woman near the canapes is his poor wife?" she stood on the far side, trying and failing to mask the hurt on her face.

"Yes, and oh there's his son," a man, a couple of years older than me, board-shouldered, dressed in a dark suit, came and stood next to his father.

"Yeesh. He's got a son that old," damn it and now they were headed our way. His son had his father's looks, his brown hair ruffling in the cold winter breeze.

"Zeenia. Such a pleasure to see you out and about," Jalal greeted and delivered a practiced smile, and it was nearly convincing. His voice however, was less convincing than his smile had been. He shook Zeenia's hand firmly.

"Jalal, how lovely to see you," Zeenia muttered, the edges of her words so sharp it made Jalal's son look away. But Jalal wasn't fazed. "Please allow me to introduce you to Taimoor's wife, Mrs. Daania Mughal."

"Mrs. Mughal, please accept my heartiest congratulations on your nuptials," his eyes twinkled and I forced up an artificial smile. "Allow me to introduce my son, Badar."

Zeenia and I both tilted our heads in greeting, our actions synchronized.

"How is Taimoor? We haven't seen him in a while."

"You know him. He's busy running the company," Zeenia laughed, her voice light and airy. "Hardly has any free time nowadays."

"He should be, the quarterly reports seem to be a little alarming."

"Business here? Come on Mr. Talpur, you've come to have a little fun. I've heard you're an excellent player?" I drawled, smiling through my teeth, imitating Zeenia's light tone.

This man was a snake.

"I am, but I'm afraid my son has taken my position. I have had to hang up the hat."

"Really?" I asked turning towards Badar, flashing a polite smile his way. "I didn't expect that."

"Preparing for this since I was boy," his teeth sparkled in the dim sun and my stomach twisted into a knot at the action. There was something very off about this man.

"Have you seen Zahid? Is he late?"

"He said he wouldn't be able to make it. He's fractured his shoulder I'm afraid."

Well, there went the other board member. "Pity, I looked forward to seeing his daughter."

"She's working for the United Nations isn't she?"

"The same," Zeenia said, gently pulling me away from the two men.

"Hope we'll be seeing you at the birthday bash," I added, sidestepping their circle and sensing Scorpio shadow my move.

"Of course, we look forward to the event."

From there I was whisked away, for the first time in days, to go somewhere on my own. A surprising pattern of relentless rain splattered the car's windows, the glass that encased the exterior creating a violent rattle and tapping as thunder boomed overhead. As Scorpio pulled up to the house, a strange sensation of wastefulness settled on me. The house was the same as I remembered and yet the feeling was completely different. As if I was a different person.

I rang the doorbell and stood back, my shoes getting trenched in the torrent.

"Daania?"

"Mama," my arms engulfed her in a desperate hug, eyes prickling with tears, a familiar warmth spreading through my body. God, I'd missed her.

"How's my baby? Are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No Mama, Taimoor got there in time."

"Uh-" she hesitated and it took me a beat to realize she'd asked if Taimoor had hurt me.

"He would never hurt me, Mama."

"But your father said-"

"Where is Baba?"

"He's in his office upstairs."

"I have to talk to him," I whispered, moving away.

"I wish you would have called, I would have made arrangements, I could have cooked something for you," her hand fluttered around me, patting my head and smoothing my clothes. Laughing, I kissed her cheek.

"It's okay Mama, I'll have whatever you're having."

"But you're married to a Mughal."

Amusement pinged through me. "I'm still your daughter."

She smiled. "Yes, yes you are."

"Where's Nazia?"

"Out and about," her eyes guarded up as she took a seat beside me.

"Has she gotten a job?"

"It's not that easy-" I gave her a bland look. "She's been different. She says she doesn't want a job. Wants to settle down."

"What do you mean? Like marriage? Has she lost her mind?"

"It's her life Daania. And it's not like she's making the wrong decision, the sooner she gets married, the better it is for us."

"She's so young," she only gave me a patronizing look and ushered me towards the living room.

"She's twenty-two."

"And she has no idea who tough life can be," to my credit, there was only a faint hint of a wobble in my voice before I got control of my emotions. "Does she have someone in mind?"

"There's a boy. He's coming over with his family next week."

My lips thinned and in spite of my protest, I couldn't stop myself from asking. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"We thought you'd be busy!"

"With what?"

"With your husband. I'm sure you're already planning your honeymoon."

Honeymoon? Not if it was to drown the other.

"I'll go and greet Baba, and then we'll talk okay?"

She nodded and turned towards the kitchen, her face and steps so much lighter than the ones I'd seen weeks ago. She looked calm. At peace. Slightly pacified, I started to climb up the stairs, my feet carrying me towards my father.

"Baba?"

"Daania? Beta, is that you?"

"How have you been?"

"Missed you," he said gruffly giving me a loving pat on the shoulder and I shifted under his penetrating stare. Coming from my father, that was an atomic explosion."It's strange without you in the house."

"It's strange not being in the house."

"How's he treating you?"

"He's-"

"Hope he's not hurting you."

Why did they think he would hurt me? Why did they keep asking me that question? Sadness and pain cut through my chest, creating a fresh burning wound.

"He would never hurt me, Baba, he's not like Ghazanfar."

He flinched. "I deserved that."

"I can't believe you would have just handed me to him."

"I didn't know Daania. I thought it was the best decision at the time. I thought he could help us," he began with a rueful laugh. "I never wanted to put you in danger. No father wants to do that, but it seems I keep failing in protecting you."

"It's-" his hand rose when I made a move to speak.

"It's absolutely my fault. I should have been better, more present. It's-" Baba leaned back against the back of the chair, his words a ragged whisper. "I should have known."

"You couldn't have. No one could have."

His hands shook, the slight tremble burying a serrated knife in my heart. "I failed you girls. I put you in danger. I put you in his path."

"No one knew Ghanzanfar would do this."

"Not that na-mard," shock made me go still. My usually composed father had cursed. He'd abused his own nephew. "I'm talking about Taimoor."

My head began to pound. "What about him?"

"You don't know him."

"Not as well as you I'm sure."

"What has he said?"

"Only that you taught him how to play chess."

"That was a long time ago."

"But you did," tears gathered in my eyes, spilling over my lips, tasting salty on my tongue, the emotions jumbling into a huge messy ball at the back of my throat. "You had spent some time with him."

"I-"

"You didn't tell me that Baba. Why? Didn't you think it would be helpful for me to know that my father and my husband have a history? One that's shrouded in the past? One that might impact and affect me?"

"I asked you to stay away from him, you chose to go work for him. Why didn't you stay away?"

"How else was I supposed to save you?"

"There was another way-"

"What other way? What else was I supposed to do? Let you stay in jail? How could you expect me to do that? To leave you and run away?"

"Daania," my anger reared its head, stealing the breath straight from my lungs.

"No, I'm sick and tired of everyone making me feel inconsequential. Like there were other options. As if anyone else was going to step up to save us," I said harshly. "All of our so-called friends, our social circle, none of them stepped up. They were ready to tear us apart."

"Daania."

"What is going on with you and Taimoor, Baba?" he shook his head, his eyes flickering with something heavy. "And don't say it's about the White Rose, this goes beyond that."

I gave him a chance to fill the silence between us. He opened his mouth and my heart grew tight with uncertainty, then inflated with relief that he was giving in.

"He was my intern. With such enormous potential. I coached him for a year before he went off for college. He was such a bright boy, still is, but so intense. He had ambitions, bigger than the ones his father and his brother chased," a bitter laugh escaped him."I was drawn to him, felt understood by him. He's as charismatic as the devil when he wants to be. He used the same charm his grandfather used to build the business. But he was hungry. He was so hungry and broken."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a darkness inside him Daania. His soul hungers for more."

Blood, veins, and my heart went ice cold—and, with one fell swoop, my world crashed to the floor around me. I guessed as much. "What does that mean?"

"We thought of the White Rose together. Worked on it day and night. He made the plans and I executed his vision. We didn't finish it that year. There wasn't much time. I worked on it after he went off, and two years later, I had a breakthrough," his chin bobbed in a slow, tired gesture. "I suppose you remember the party we went to? Taimoor and Zeenia's twentieth birthday?"

"Roughly," my eyes fluttered, but I closed them again when pain cut through my head like a knife.

"His father found out. Hated that his son had more potential in his pinky than he had in his whole body. He demanded that I give the program to his brother, that Altamash would be the one to head this, to take the credit. He was going to lead Mughal and Co. in the future, hence he should be the one spearheading the project."

"You didn't agree."

"No. I couldn't do that to Taimoor."

"I don't understand-"

"They let me believe I'd won, they let me resign with all of the benefits, with a payout and then gave the program, a prototype at that stage, to Altamash."

"How could they do that? It belonged to you!"

"The coding belonged to me, the idea, its execution, and its vision belonged to Taimoor. Or more accurately, since he was an intern, to the company."

Oh, Taimoor.

Betrayal. From his own blood. From his mentor.

"And you didn't try to explain this to him?"

"How could I? I didn't fight them, I didn't fight for him. I took the money and left. Built my own company. Took care of my daughters."

"He-"

"He's amassed quite an empire for himself," he bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees."I've heard he's strict but fair."

"I'm working on completing the project for him," I whispered.

"I know. I guessed as much."

"But I know that it's not that easy. He only knows the original program, not the one you modified."

"And he can never know that. Using a program that could change nuclear energy into circular clean energy, something that would never run out should be enough for him," my throat tightened, and pain burned the backs of my eyes."It won't be. He'll want more. Can you imagine the power he would have? The money that would bring?"

Crap. Double crap.

"You're not going to stop me?"

"Not sure I have the right to. This is his project as much as it is mine. You're old enough to make your own mistakes, what do you think?"

What did I think? I couldn't think. That was the whole problem.

Mughal House was shrouded in darkness when I arrived and I couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights. I walked around the house, absently making my way, my shoes in my hand. I didn't want to think, didn't want to consider the possibilities of such a massive shift. I entered the bedroom and pretended I was in control of my life. When that was so far from the truth.

I'd never felt so lost.

Cold, white light woke me up the next morning and I pointed my toes under the covers, trying to push away how confused I was. I tossed and turned on the bed, staring at the ceiling until all I could do was feel. When I turned, a prickling sense that I wasn't alone touched my back. I didn't hear the door open or click shut, or the footsteps that approached. It was only the unnerving sense I was being watched that caught my attention. My head swung to see someone sitting on the edge of a chaise, elbows on his knees. I glanced up to find a pair of hungry eyes staring at me.

Eyes of steel and dark thunderclouds captured mine.

My heart stilled and then filled with a desperate hum. Confusion flickered through me, and I blinked.

"Well hello Goldilocks."

"What are you doing in my room?"

"You mean my room?"

"How can it be your room? And weren't you supposed to be away?"

Shit shit shit.

I'd been so wrapped up in my feelings that I'd probably made a wrong turn and mistaken his room for mine. Now that I peered around, the structure of the room was very similar to mine. Except that this room was bigger. Much much bigger. Gleaming wood paneling. Thick, dark rugs. It felt like a fortress. Taimoor had his own fireplace, more massive in scale than any of the others. Enormous windows looked out over the early morning-kissed grounds. Distant trees were black silhouettes against a navy sky dotted with stars.

I started to get up but then stopped.

My lungs seized with an awful, cut-off sound. I'd taken off my silk shirt before I got under the covers and had tossed that away. I was clad only in my jeans and a lacy bra.

I was half naked, on a bed, in a room with him.

Taimoor continued like he hadn't noticed that a single thing was wrong. He knew I couldn't leave. The shirt was right there. Beside him.

"You went to visit your family yesterday?"

My fingers clutched the comforter around me, drawing it up to my chin. I was trapped and the bastard was using this to his advantage.

"Yes," I gave him a slow, plain blink, letting him know I wasn't going to engage.

"How did it go?"

"Fine," I said, tone curt.

"Doesn't sound fine," the floor beneath my feet softened, and I struggled to stand on this newly uneven ground. I could handle Taimoor treating me in a variety of ways. He could be indifferent, or annoying, or even cruel, but he'd never been like this before.

It was unsettling.

"Why are you so interested?"

"Scorpio told me you were in and out in thirty minutes."

"I had work to do."

"And you couldn't spare an hour?" the touch of his eyes ran over my face like a caress.

"What is your point?"

"You'd gone to such lengths to bargain your way for a visit and you couldn't even spare an hour for them?"

"They've moved on."

"What do you mean?"

"They-" the admission burned, my throat and my tongue and my lips."They're all set in their lives."

"What did you expect?"

"A little more- I don't know," I admitted, a little uneasy for doing so, not wanting to tell him about the conversation with my father.

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?"

"What do you mean?" I fired back, proud that I'd kept my voice steady when he slowly turned, and my insides quaked.

"You went to see your father didn't you?"

Unease suddenly rose up to choke me, and I couldn't pretend to be normal anymore. Shoes and shirt forgotten, I turned and grabbed the coverlet, wrapping it around me, shuffling towards the door. But before I could get the door open all the way, his hand appeared above my head and slammed it shut.

The echo sent a tremor through me.

His shoulders blocked out the light. His presence, heavy and palpable, skimmed down my bare spine.

"I have to go."

"What's the rush?"

Words evaporated from my mind.

Every single one.

I couldn't think with him behind me, cornering me against the door, so I turned. Big mistake. I was internally shaking. At his closeness, his unexplained concern, the fact I was trapped, and I wasn't getting out unless he chose to let me go. Just the idea he might touch me sent every nerve ending in my back tingling in expectation.

"I thought you'd be back later in the day."

"I didn't need to be there for the final negotiations. Thought I'd come back. Why? Would that given you enough time to escape to your rooms?" his lips curled upwards and I willed myself to ignore the rush of it brought me.

"This was a mistake. It's a huge house, I lost my way."

A startled laugh. "Sure."

I drew in a sharp breath, knowing this was going nowhere and that perhaps the little I could do would go nowhere too."Look, I didn't mean to barge into your space. I really didn't know."

"Okay."

My gaze softened, lips parted, as flames licked at my skin. His grip tightened on the coverlet, and I stumbled a step closer. He was too close, and I had to place a hand on his stomach to catch myself from falling.

We were crossing so many lines.

"You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you," his gaze was inescapable, though. It was quicksand, and I stayed absolutely still, knowing it'd suck me in faster if I tried to fight it.

I chewed on my bottom lip trying to figure out how to maneuver the conversation to my exit but he carried on, his tone curious. "Did you sleep here?"

While he was away.

That's what he was hinting at.

It was strange to say the truth with him, but it was a calculated risk, and it paid off when he inhaled a deep breath. "No."

A faint smile lurked in his eyes, but then they turned serious. "You missed me."

"I didn't say that."

"Not in so many words."

"Goodbye Taimoor."

Oh, that sexy jaw. When I tried to have my own way, it set, the muscle tightening and flexing. His eyes turned stormy. Taimoor's gaze moved like a glacier over me, taking in every inch of my skin, lingering on my lips."No."

He glared at me with his strict eyes and his sexy mouth pressed into a scowl, and it was scorching. He was an emotional rollercoaster. One second I was on an exhilarating high, and the next he sent my stomach crashing to the ground.

"I'll walk with you."

"Afraid someone will rescue me?"

"I'd like to see someone try to take you away from me."

As soon as his words were out in the room, the air became volatile. They lingered in the air, dangerous and exciting. Desire cinched around me, making everything tight and locking me in place, but his admission lit me up inside. Despite my circumstances, and with everything that I knew, the fact that I was in over my head, warmth bloomed over my skin as I stood and endured the onslaught of his gaze. It whispered things to me. Made promises and threats and guarantees that this thing between us would come to a head. Try as we might resist, we were doomed.

My shoulders lifted as I inhaled deeply, and I flicked my gaze to his."I can make my own way."

"I can see that," he gently laced the words into the quiet enveloping us, stabbing a hand through his hair. His eyes went wide then narrowed in displeasure, although it seemed like it was with himself.

Should I ask him? Did that make me desperate? What game were we even playing now? Which field were we on?

"I won't be working today."

"I'll see you tonight at the party," his lips pressed into a hard line. The battle waged inside his head over the sensible thing versus what he wanted to do. His business mind considered the pros and the cons, and when he arrived at the decision, he tossed it aside and gave me a condescending look."If you can recognize me."

A challenge? He was entirely too smug, and his confidence reminded me not to underestimate him. Well, hell if that didn't turn me on, just a little—but he didn't need to know that. "Don't count on it."

There was no doubt in his mind I'd lose, and he was only humoring me with his answer. His hand slid off the door and he stepped away."We'll see."

I inhaled slowly. Released it.

"Yes," I muttered softly, pausing in the hallway, giving him a final lingering look."We shall."

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Again, sorry for the delay. Enjoy.

Thoughts, comments? Feedback?

Next update is on Sunday 😄

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