Chapter 76: Future Wife

"You were not supposed to step out of this room without my permission," his voice came as

his finger underneath her chin, forced her to look up at him, "my little lady,"

"I understand now. I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She desperately

wished to be far away from him, out of this suffocating room, and beyond his overpowering

presence.

His piercing gaze lingered on her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He could see the

defiance brewing within her, the error in her judgment.

His little kitten was always so eager to diffuse his warnings in the air, always dancing on the

edge of his patience.

"Sit. I want to talk to you," he ordered.

She immediately complied, sitting down on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding in

dread. Her mind was convinced that he was about to announce her punishment for her

offense of stepping out.

The thought alone made her face pale.

“Give me your hand,” he said, extending his own in front of her. His palm lay open, waiting.

She glanced at it before making up the way to his face and then back at his hand.

Rubbing her tongue against her bottom lip, she contemplated, and then a voice barely a

whisper she said. “No.”

Impulsive much? Yes, she was. Very much.

“No?” he repeated, he shook his head and raised his brow.

"I don’t want you to touch me. Please!" she burst out, her words a mix of desperation and

courage. Her voice trembled, but her emotions gave her strength. "Y-you don’t have any

right to touch me!" The words spilled out in a rush, her voice growing louder. “You’ve

suffocated me in this room. With what right? Who are you to me? Who?!”

For how long will she remain cowering before him?

The next second she heard him laugh. A deep, mocking laugh that reverberated through the

room. It was the laugh of someone utterly in control, who found amusement in her futile

rebellion.

Going down on his knees, he squatted in front of her, bringing his face level with hers. His

eyes bore into her, sharp and unforgiving. “You like to rub that on my face, don’t you?” he

asked, his voice deceptively calm. “Who am I to you? Etcetera, etcetera.” He shook his head

slightly, as though pitying her naivety.

“I’m just… just telling,” she muttered, her voice faltering now that he was so close.

“Oh, Sheharzaad,” he murmured, leaning closer. His eyes locked onto hers, and it felt as if he

were looking straight into her soul, which had her paralyzed instantly, “This is what you fail

to understand. I have every right to you. To possess you. Your every inch, from head to toe,

belongs to me.”

He pointed to his chest, emphasizing each word. “To me. Shehryaar Haider Syed.”

A tremor shot through her body as his words sunk in, each syllable hitting her like a blow.

“And I swear on my life,” he continued, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, “as fucked

up as I am, I’ll fuck your life too if you ever dare to run these words on your tongue again.”

She flinched as he reached for her hand. She hadn’t even noticed the ring until now, the cool

metal encasing her ring finger. His lips brushed against it, sealing it with a kiss as he spoke.

“From now on,” he declared, “you belong to me.”

As soon as he was done, he stood up and she felt her legs shaking badly though she was

sitting. Her eyes had turned glassy and fretful tremors shook her petite frame.

“Dare to take a step beyond that door without my acknowledgment,” he continued, his

finger pointing toward the wooden barrier, “and see what I do.” His smirk widened, the

pride in his eyes unmistakable. “Because now,” he said with triumph, “you officially belong

to me.”

Her shivering hand moved on its own accord and was perfectly fitted in his. Her mind

couldn't muster up the courage to deny him.

She stood up, holding his hand whilst her eyes were focused on the ring and his eyes on her

face.

Her mind was too stunned to pull out a response. As if every cell of her brain had stopped

doing its job.

“Congratulations,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re engaged.”

The words hung heavily in the air. She felt as though the ground beneath her had crumbled

away. Her body squirmed under the intensity of his stare. She wanted to scream, to cry, to

protest, but her voice was trapped in her throat.

Even the simplest act of speaking seemed impossible in front of him.

Her shock and fear must have been evident in her eyes because his expression shifted. His

hand moved to the small of her back, and the heat of his touch burned through the fabric of

her clothes.

His skin tingled under his touch. A jolt by his hand brought her closer to him and she looked

down to his chest. Her cheek felt the sense of his hot breath.

“Finally and truly, my woman,” he whispered, the possessiveness in his voice sending chills

down her spine. His lips brushed against her ear before his teeth nipped at her earlobe. “My

future wife.”

The word caught her attention.

Wife...

Her heart stopped for a moment, her breath became shallow. The bucket of cold water was

thrown at her, jolting her senses back.

Future wife...

The words echoed in her head, their meaning sinking deeper into her consciousness. Her

breathing hitched as the realization seeped into her bones.

Future wife?

Her wide, disbelieving eyes moved to meet his. She tried to speak, but her voice refused to

cooperate. Before she could process what was happening, her knees buckled. Her legs gave

out, and she fell forward.

Only to fall right on his arms.

Shehryaar’s arms wrapped around her, steadying her trembling frame. His smirk returned,

dark and triumphant. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice mocking. “I wouldn’t want my

fiancée hurting herself.”