Chapter 29: The Devil's Pawn

"It’s as simple as that, Sheharzaad," he said, his voice chillingly straightforward. "You were on my mind, and I want to fuck you out of this brain. Regardless of the text, I would have you in my bed."

He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. "Unknowingly, you have become a new obsession of mine, and I want to get rid of it as it is an unhealthy infatuation. And there is only one solution."

His eyes flickered with a dangerous light. "You. In. My. Bed."

Sheherzaad felt her chest burn with a thick, hot, seething rage. "You’re nothing but a bastard, Shehryaar!" she spat out. She didn't care if her words provoked him. She didn't care that he was the one in power. She didn't care about anything.

Any fear she felt was overpowered by her anger.

He tilted his head a little, a dark smile pulling at his lips. "That, I am." With these words, he got up from his chair and moved towards her, his predatory, calculating eyes fixed on her.

Sheherzaad felt her heart skip a beat as he approached her. It was then her brain registered the grave error she had committed by cursing him.

"And you know what I do with those who run their mouths on me?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft yet laced with a threat that made her blood run cold.

With every step he took closer to her, she felt two conflicting emotions—sheer rage and unadulterated fear.

Her instincts screamed for her to run, yet her pride rooted her to the spot.

She was a hothead by nature, but this emotion of fear was something she discovered in herself upon meeting him. He introduced her to new heights of fear she had never experienced. She had never felt this vulnerable before, as she did after meeting him, being so close to him.

He stopped for a moment and said, "I simply cut their tongues or have them cut their own tongue. So which one do you like more?"

A cold sweat broke out over her skin, and she felt her throat constricting with fear. There was a glint in his eyes, a dark amusement as if he was savoring her reaction. After what he did moments ago, she knew damn well that these were not empty threats. He was capable of doing something like that.

As he continued to walk towards her, she stood up from the chair she had been rooted to. Her eyes inspected his form as if to confirm that he wasn't carrying any gun or knife.

"No, don't come close to me," her panicked voice tried to threaten him, but he kept on, undeterred, until he had her pinned to the wall.

She was trembling, trying to hide herself within the wall, but he was standing too close to her, their breaths mingling and his arms caging her from both sides.

His cold, dark eyes refused to leave her for even one second. She was trapped. Trapped like prey is trapped by its predator.

"Look at me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a command she felt in every nerve of her body.

She refused. She turned her head away.

“Shh… come on, look at me,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, almost coaxing. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear, but she only whimpered in response, shutting her eyes tightly.

Her body was giving up on her. It felt as if life had already left her legs; she felt as if she was going to slump down. But before that could happen, his knee pressed into her thigh, pinning her firmly against the wall.

“Look at me, Sheharzaad,” he repeated, his tone sharper and much firmer, still quiet but with an edge.

Her eyes snapped open against her will, and she found herself staring into his deep, mysterious dark eyes. Eyes that, on the surface, felt like those of a predator, yet unbeknownst to most, deep down held a far more vulnerable and sensitive secret. A secret that had so many walls protecting it because it would crumble with the first harsh touch.

In that moment, Sheherzaad felt as if her body was operating on his consent rather than her own.

"You want the money, right?" he asked, one brow raised as his fingers dug into her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker.

Her tongue had gone dry, and she was unable to speak, so she gave him a small nod as a hiccup was struck within her throat.

“Then open your legs for me. I’ll give you as much money as you want,” he declared unabashedly.

No. That was the response every bit of her gave. She shook her head. But despite her strong resolve, her eyes gave away her helplessness and desperation.

“Don’t forget,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, a harsh whisper against her ear, “I want your answer by tonight. Make sure it’s yes.” The finality in his tone made her throat clog, his threat seeping into her bones.

She shook her head. Her crystal eyes looked at his devilish orbs. Her eyes pleaded, telling him without words how deeply she denied him. But his eyes offered no mercy, only a silent reminder that he was capable of far worse than just threats.

She could feel his threat radiating off him. He wasn't a normal man. Or perhaps he was—even the devil had not committed the gruesome crimes a man had. At least the one in front of her would not do something like that.

At least a part of her chuckled at that thought. She was at such a stage of life that she had to be grateful that at least he would not dismember her and throw her to the wolves or, worse, become the wolf himself.

Gathering her strength, she pushed him with all her might and ran out of his office while he stared at her retreating back.

But as she left, one thought stayed with her: she couldn’t run from this forever. She could not run away from him forever