Chapter 18: Framed

Her eyes moved up to look at him, who wasn't paying any attention to her and was invested in his work. It was the first time she got the chance to closely analyze him.

He was handsome. He looked like a Greek god. His face was perfectly crafted. She would find chances to look at him, observe him, his face, and well-built body. Beauty attracted Sheharzaad, and she really wanted to memorize his features. His appearance was entirely opposite to the aura he carried. His face was angelic, yet his persona was dark. There was something mysterious about him. Something quiet, yet something screaming. He screamed danger and calmness at the same time.

He had a manly, peppered stubble. His eyebrows were thick, and he had a hawkish nose with a broad forehead. His lashes were long and curled upward, shadowing his well-defined cheekbones. He had a concrete jaw and broad shoulders. An earthy scent swirled around him. He had that appearance which would make him stand out in a crowd. An aura of coldness and mirthlessness surrounded him. Just by a single look from his eye, he could dominate the next person. He appeared to be so powerful, as if the world waited for the flick of his fingers to carry out a command.

He was a good-looking guy, but what always attracted her in other men was how they treated the women around them—mother, sister, wife, and all the other women. Physical beauty would be just a plus point for her. Beauty of character was the most important thing for her.

His beautiful features made her ask God why He gave such good looks to him. Those diamond eyes. Those perfect lips. Jawline. Eyelashes. Cheekbones. That perfect face. What deeds did he do to deserve such a face? And his body? Well, words would limit her ability to explain how immaculate he was. He was just perfect. His voice held a tinge of darkness and calmness at the same time. His voice was smooth, one that you would want to hear on and on.

He had that sense of mysteriousness around him, just like a riddle—cold, quiet, private, and distant. A "not-giving-a-damn" kind of person unless something concerned him.

He had those almond-shaped, hawk-like eyes. The grey emeralds appeared as dominating as his persona was. Intelligence, cleverness, and aptness sprinkled through his eyes, which were staring directly into hers, grasping her full attention.

"Staring at me?"

The sudden realization hit her hard, making her fall out of her reverie as she immediately looked away, denying that she had been inspecting him.

Despite her looking away from him, she could feel his austere gaze on her, making her queasy.

On cue, the door knocked and a man entered. Upon getting his permission, he sat on one of the chairs in front of his table.

"Good morning, sir," the man greeted.

"Have you brought what I asked for, Ali?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir. Here is the recording."

"Show," he commanded, and the man placed the laptop he had brought with him and turned it towards him.

"Sir, here it is."

Shehryaar inserted the pin of his earphones in the jack before wearing them and began to watch the video, his whole attention on the scene unfolding before his eyes. His face didn’t change expressions; his skeptical grey eyes seemed to observe every detail.

"What is it, Mr. Ali?" Sheharzaad asked the man in a low voice.

"It's the recording from last night. Sir Shehryaar had asked for it."

"Of what time and area?"

"Between 11 and 12, the corridors."

"Ok, thanks," she replied. She knew why he asked for the recordings; she was thankful there was a recording to prove her innocence.

A frown marred his brows as he looked up at Ali.

"Where is the rest of it?" Shehryaar suddenly asked, taking off his earbuds.

Ali looked down. Sheharzaad could tell he was nervous.

"Shall I repeat, Ali?"

"Sir, I apologize; the cameras weren't totally functional."

"And where is the footage of her cabin?" he asked again.

"Sir, we received a request to make the cameras in Ms. Sheharzaad's room non-functional."

"With whose permission exactly?"

"CFO, sir. Mr. Ijaz. We have a written record."

Shehryaar turned his attention toward her. His eyes manifested anger.

"Did you make that request?"

"No...no, sir. I wasn't even aware of that." Her voice slightly shook, given how enraged his eyes looked.

Shehryaar bore his eyes into Ali's as he spoke, "This footage doesn't make anything evident, Ali. What's the security staff doing? Why is the footage incomplete, with only blurred fragments available? I can't gauge anything out of it," he demanded, making their breaths catch in their throats. His anger was evident through his voice.

"I apologize for my error."

He smoldered with resentment. Intense rage gripped him, pulsing through his veins. Indolence and carelessness were unbearable to him.

"Get out of my office, now! Fucking apology," his not-so-loud roar made Sheharzaad jump in her seat, and Ali ran for his life.

As soon as he left, Shehryaar dialed a number and asked for her boss, Mr. Ijaz, to be in his office along with some papers. Sheharzaad could feel slight tremors leaving her body. Her body was turning hot and cold at the same time, and she could feel the floor slipping beneath her feet. His anger was making her fret.

Within seconds, he came, holding some papers in his hand.

"Report, Mr. Ijaz."

"Sir, here is the paper. Ms. Sheharzaad had asked me to sign this paper herself and requested to make the cameras in her room non-functional."

"Show me," he ordered, and Ijaz hurriedly passed one of the papers to him. He gave it a brief glance.

"Do you remember her taking your signature?" Shehryaar asked. His eyes stared at Sheharzaad whose face seemed to be paling and then his eyes moved back to Ijaz.

"Yes, sir, she personally requested me to do so." ijaz told. Sheharzaad couldn't believe his words.

shehryaar's furious eyes moved towards Sheharzaad, and she panicked.