Chapter 34: A Death Wish

"Hello, Sheharzaad," his dark voice came from the other side of the phone, sending chills

down her spine and making her breathless within seconds. His voice caused a series of

goosebumps to erupt on her body. In an instant, she felt her heart skip a noticeable beat. His

gray eyes flashed in front of her, making her choke on her breath. She seemed to have

ceased breathing. Rather, she forgot how to breathe.

She stood up from her chair. Her hands holding the phone began to shiver. His voice alone

was making her tremble. After that night, she began to fear him so much.

Him. His presence. His voice. Everything.

That one night was enough to make her understand exactly who he was. He was not a guy to

play with.

She was traumatized.

And he traumatized her.

To an extent that she found herself shivering just from his voice on a phone call. When he

was not even in front of her.

"Cat got your tongue?" His voice hit her ears again, and she was reminded of the

predicament she was currently stuck in.

"Why did you call?" she demanded, trying not to show her fear through her voice, but her

voice shook in the middle.

"Don't get breathless, sweetheart," he stated, smugness exuding from his voice.

"I'm not," she denied.

"I can feel that. Your breathless voice is instilled in my ears," he tried to remind her of that

night.

"Say what you-you want to-to say, or I'll c-c-cut the c-ca-all."

"I dare you." His voice became deep and serious, void of the previous playfulness it had.

"You can't... you can't threaten me," she made a failed attempt to warn him.

"Oh baby. I can do more than just mere threats."

She didn't answer, feeling struck.

"Why aren't you coming to the office?" he asked.

"I would never come to that building again. Never."

"I want to see you in the office tomorrow. And meet me."

"I won't!"

"Oh?"

"Yes, and never call me... never call me again." She cut off the call and threw her phone away

as if it was scalding her. Suddenly, she began to take deep breaths. A horrifying expression

etched on her face as she looked at her phone.

"What have I done?" She penetrated her fingers through her locks as the realization sank in.

She rushed toward her phone and picked it up. "Why did I cut his call?" she whispered to

herself, feeling her heart throb in her chest.

"He will kill me." She turned on the phone to see if he was calling her again. It would be

better if he called her, or God knows how he would take it, and she would have to face the

consequences.

She kept looking at her phone screen, wishing he would call her again so she could make up

for her action.

Suddenly, her phone rang again, and she abruptly picked it up.

Placing it to her ear, she uttered in a shivering voice, "Hello?"

"Hello. Are you fine, Sheharzaad?" Hannan's concerned voice asked from the other side.

"Y-yes. Yes, I am. Wh-what happened?"

"You don't sound fine. I called to check up on you."

"I'm afraid," she said in a small voice. "Please, I'm so afraid. I feel like I-I made a mistake."

Panic was clear in her voice as she grew more and more breathless.

He couldn't understand what she was trying to say.

"Afraid? Of what? What happened, Sheharzaad? Is Amna fine?"

"I don't know what I should do. I-I will apologize, but—" she kept muttering gibberish,

which he couldn't understand.

"I was panicking. That's why I did that. I didn't do... didn't do (hiccup) it on pu-purpose."

"Are you crying? Don't panic. There's nothing to fear."

"I defied... defied h-him again, I-I-I—"

"Sheharzaad?" Hannan asked, concerned as he sensed her voice fading away.

She didn't answer, and when he heard a thump sound, he knew she had fainted.

His voice alone had triggered the trauma in her mind. It made all those scenes run in the

back of her mind. Only the mere thought that he would come in front of her because she

defied him again had her body shivering.

She was afraid of him.

So afraid.

Afraid to the point that the thought of crossing his path again made her trepidatious.

...

He looked at the phone that she had hung up on him. He could tell this girl had some

audacity in her, and he would love to break it so she would never dare step out of line when

with him. He needed to establish a boundary that she wouldn't dare to cross—or he would

break her legs.

He wanted her to submit to him in every aspect because, certainly, she had caught his

attention. Even one pleasurable night wasn't enough to get her out of his mind. Consuming

her in all the imaginable and unimaginable angles still didn't satisfy him. He wanted more of

her. He wanted her, on and on. She was a walking intoxication, and in just one night, he was

addicted to her.

Her effect on him was so strong that he didn’t look at another woman.

He just wanted her in his bed. One night wasn't enough to explore her. One night was

nothing.

Yet he had to admit, that was one of the most pleasurable one-night stands he had ever had.

Her naive responses to his touch, the fear in her eyes, her nervousness, moans, and cries

still lingered in his ears. He wished he could have more of her. He wished he could have

more than just a night with her.

And he knew how to make his wishes come true. Nobody went against him. But he would do

things as he desired. Att the moment, the matter at hand was to address the error she

committed by cutting the call on him, as he didn’t like it. He wasn't habitual to behaviours

like these. And he will surely address her.

Oh, girl, you have a death wish.