The office was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. Aisha’s heart raced as Arhan stepped closer, a single red rose in his hand. His eyes burned into hers, darker than night yet more intense than any fantasy she had ever read.
Arhan: “Your books give you fictional men… but I am real. I am everything you dream of, Aisha. And I want you.”
He held the rose out like a vow, his voice laced with possession.
Aisha’s lips parted, but no words came. For one stolen second, her heart betrayed her, thudding in hope. But then… reality struck. This man was powerful, dangerous, unpredictable. And she wasn’t a girl to surrender her heart just because someone demanded it.
Slowly, she let the rose fall from his hand. It touched the ground between them—fragile, beautiful, waiting for her decision.
And then—
Crunch.
Her heel pressed into the petals, crushing the bloom into the marble floor. Red smeared beneath her shoes like spilled secrets.
Aisha (coldly): “I don’t accept proposals that come with conditions… or control.”
For a heartbeat, Arhan froze. The rejection sliced sharper than any blade. But instead of breaking, his expression darkened, lips curling into the faintest, dangerous smile.
Arhan: “You can crush the flower, Aisha… but not my feelings. Not me.”
His voice was low, almost a promise. Her rejection didn’t end his desire—it ignited something far more dangerous.
As Aisha turned to leave, his gaze lingered on her retreating figure. Not with defeat. With determination.
“If she won’t come willingly,” he thought, “then I’ll make her see… she’s already mine.”
The storm had only begun.
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