Chapter 25: A Fiery Exchange

The next day in the office, after contemplating a lot, she decided to address Shehryaar directly. The whole night, she had been gathering courage. There were moments when she felt a surge of bravery, making her want to call Shehryaar right then and release all the pent-up anger in her heart. But in the very next second, she would remember his dark eyes—scary, like diamond shards, soulless, and cold. His words would echo in her mind, making her retreat, cocooning herself in a blanket, wanting to hide somewhere his grey eyes could never follow.

His words had a dual effect, fueling both her fear and her rage. She had never been the type to back down, let alone without a fight. How long would she continue being afraid of him, running away? This needed to stop. She believed that if she talked to Shehryaar directly, he might back off, or at least his rigidness might soften. She sensed that her fear was only emboldening him.

She needed to face him. What did he think of himself? And why this obsession with her? She needed answers.

Standing up, she began walking toward his office with quick steps. His secretary tried to stop her, saying he was in a meeting, but she glared at her, violently turned the handle, and barged into the office with the secretary standing behind.

"Sir, I tried to stop her, but—" the secretary followed her inside the office to explain Shehryar.

Sheharzaad could see he was in a meeting, with a man seated across from him. They had been discussing something.

Shehryaar looked at Sheharzaad, his secretary and then at the person sitting infront of him.

"I’ll talk to you later; you may go," he said to the person. He snapped his fingers to dismiss his PA, who then stepped out. The other man also left, closing the door, leaving them alone. Sheharzaad looked at the close door and then at Shehryaar. Sheharzaad got closer to the door and slightly opened it.

He looked up at her, leaning back in his seat to observe her from head to toe without uttering a word. He had expected this. He would have been surprised if she hadn’t shown any fight.

Sheharzaad looked directly into his eyes. Suddenly, his threat from yesterday flashed in front of her. She gulped, a wave of fear washing over her. His calm, calculating eyes gave her another spike of fear, but she took a deep breath, swallowing it. She didn’t want her terror to consume her now; she was here to talk, face-to-face.

"Shehryaar Haider Syed!" she called out loudly, ensuring anyone outside his office could hear. She had deliberately left the door slightly ajar—she didn’t want to be left alone with him.

He raised an eyebrow, admiring her audacity. This girl was something else.

Pointing a finger at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, she demanded, "How dare you ask something so sickening from me? Who do you think I am? And who do you think you are?"

Silence settled between them as he simply looked back, his eyes meeting hers. His gaze was calm and calculated; hers, emotional and enraged.

They stood locked in a staring contest, as if neither would back down.

Finally, he broke the intense eye contact. Taking a sharp breath, he stood from his chair, walking toward her. She felt an urge to back away, to run, but she held her ground.

"Sheharzaad," he said calmly, leaning against the front of his desk, "What brings you here?"

"Who do you think you are, Shehryaar Haider? Who do you think you are?" she hissed.

"Your boss. The same man because of whom you're standing in this company,"

"My boss? My boss, my foot! How dare you say something like that to me? I want answers from you," she bellowed.

"What answers?" His voice was calm.

"What did you take me as? How dare you say such words to me?! And who the hell do you think you are?!" Sheharzaad's face was growing red with anger. On the other hand Shehryaar was calm. And observant of her. He did not say a word. Neither did he respond to her question.

"Answer! How can you threat me like that? I will tell everyone! I will go to the police! I will take help from court!"

And then she heard him chuckle. Her heart skipped a beat at that. As if police and court were nothing for him.

"Go where you want to," was his answer.

"Don't you have mother?! Or a sister? How can you say such despicable words to a woman,"

"Lower your voice," his voice suddenly took a sharp edge, a frown creasing his brows in disapproval. His eyes grew colder.

"I won’t, Mr. Shehryaar."

In a few quick strides, he was in front of her, but she didn’t budge. Yes, fear bubbled up inside her, but would she show it to him? No. Never.

Her gray eyes pierced into his, and his showed his rage. His fingers resisted the urge to wrap around her neck and silence her.

"Who do you think you’re talking to?" he asked in a low, restrained voice, seething with fury.

"Control your tongue, Mr. Shehryaar," she warned, raising her finger, looking straight into his eyes.

His eyes bored into hers, his anger crystal-clear. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a sharp breath, then opened them again, calm as if he had absorbed his rage. He knew how to handle her.

"What if I don’t?" he whispered, stepping closer to her.

"I know how to protect myself."

"And I know how to break hands raised against me, Sheharzaad."

She blinked twice, absorbing his words.

"Shut up! I’m not here to hear your absurd talk. I came just to remind you who y—"

"If you want, I can cut your ears and have you disabled so you can’t hear what I say."

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Ears or not, but I’d love to," he said, wrapping his hand around her pointing finger, "cut this digit of yours just to make sure you know who you’re talking to."