Chapter 62: His Guest

It was 4 p.m., and now was the time to go home, but she needed to inform her boss first

before leaving the office.

At the same time, she didn’t even want to see his face. The moment she had read that

contract, her heart exploded into an unfathomable rage. She wanted to kill him in that

moment, but she stored all her rage within her heart. That rage would play a key role as a

fire in her mission to take her revenge on Shehryaar.

She would also give him the same pain he gave her. If not the same, then at least close. The

company he sat in, the mafia he ran, she would destroy it all. She would gather evidence and

give it to Khaleda, and if Khaleda wouldn’t help, she would release it to the press, but she

would go to every length.

She would go down, but not without a fight.

But what was tensing her was the fear that had been settled within her.

She knew this fear would have her commit a mistake. And even if it was a minor one, given

how apt and sharp he was, he would guess right away that something was wrong with her.

At this point, she was sure he knew her like the back of his hand.

He was in the mafia; he ran a multinational company at the same time. That was the reason

she had no doubt in his adroitness. She knew he could read people, so she had to be normal,

keep her calm, and put her plan in action when things settled down a bit.

Before those customers of her house would come, she had to collect at least one piece of

evidence that could act as a lead for the FBI.

She got up and thought to leave the office without his permission. She remembered him

telling her to leave her office only by his permission, but at this point, she wanted to go

home and take some rest before taking Amna to the hospital.

Amna had been discharged, but the weekly treatment sessions were ongoing. Amna was

more at the hospital than at home due to her deteriorating health, and Sheharzaad would be

by her side all the time. After she would get free from her work, she would look after Amna,

and when she was not there, Ahmed, Amna’s fiancé, would take care of her.

The doctors had told her if the treatment hadn’t started, then Amna might have died. The

money she got from selling herself bought Amna’s life, yet at the same time, Sheharzaad’s

life was in trouble. She had been encaged, and those invincible walls of her cage could only

be felt when she would step out of the line set by Shehryaar.

Only she and he were aware of the boundaries he had drawn around her. No matter how

bold she would get in front of him, she was aware that if he wanted, in that very moment, he

could perish her existence. That was why she was afraid of challenging him due to the

power he held, more due to the aura he carried around himself as if he was aware of what

each and every single person around him was up to.

She didn’t want to challenge him. She couldn’t dare to do that. That one night she had spent

with him was enough for her to gauge what battles she was supposed to pick with him.

And something that had been worrying her for the past few days was the incident at his

home. She had slapped him because he kissed her, but he didn’t come for her. He hadn’t

done anything to her yet. It was worrying her, and her sixth sense was already telling her

that something was going on in his mind.

The trail of her thoughts broke when her phone suddenly rang as she received a message

from Ahmed on her WhatsApp.

"Please, can you tell me the recipe of biryani that you and Amna like to eat?"

"Oh, so you’re trying to impress my friend with her favorite dish? I see, Ahmed Bhai?"

"You can say that, but let’s see whether this dish impresses you or not."

Sheharzaad frowned.

"Why me?" she thought.

"Ok, I’ll tell you the recipe,"

She said and proceeded to record a voice note for him on WhatsApp, and in the middle,

suddenly the telecom rang, and she jumped. She knew he was calling.

She immediately picked it up, quickly putting her phone aside.

"Come to my room," he ordered and hung up.

She felt all the life leaving her legs. Her face paled within seconds, thinking he was going to

punish her. Sweat popped on her forehead, but she immediately cleared it and drank a glass

of water to calm her nerves.

She got up, taking her phone in her hands, and went to his office.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Report to me the occurrences in the office during my absence, the business deals we

received, and the progress of our ongoing ones," he demanded, while covered up in heaps of

files. His voice was serious.

"I’ve been mailing you that," she muttered under her breath.

"Speak out loud,"

"I mailed you."

"What did I just say?" he looked up at her.

"To—to report to you."

"Then report to me."

She inhaled a sharp breath, "Ok, can I get that file?" she asked and went back to her room to

get the file.

"Go."

It took her at least ten minutes to get that file because she forgot where she had placed it,

and after those tense ten minutes, she at last got the file and rushed to his office. When she

entered, she saw a woman already sitting there.

Her unannounced entry caused them both to look at her.

The woman, with her fox-like eyes, gave her a look before turning her face back to

Shehryaar. Sheharzaad could already feel an air of sheer arrogance around her.

She was wearing a sleeveless, long white kameez and capri trousers underneath. The neck

of the shirt was so deep that it revealed her cleavage, and through her shirt, one could see

her white bra as the material was so thin and flimsy. The capri reached halfway through her

foreleg, revealing her silky skin. Her one hand held a glass, and there was apple juice in it,

she supposed. Sheharzaad noticed her biting her lips, which were painted with a lip color

redder than blood while gawking at Shehryaar, who was looking at her.

"Come back," Shehryaar spoke before looking at his wristwatch, "five minutes later. Leave."

"Ok," she said and stepped out.

She wondered who that woman was.