I planned to go with Zaid, but that traitor left me out for his woman, so now I was left with no choice but to head to Asad's place alone.

I stood outside the hotel, waiting for the driver to arrive. Five minutes later, a sleek Porsche pulled up. Just as I reached for the door, I saw her emerging from the hotel.

It was her-the dangerous woman, the dangerous hacker.

The moment I saw her, every encounter we'd had replayed in my mind. Out of all of them, the most dangerous one was when she punched me.

Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined someone could actually break into my own office, punch me, and not even apologize for it. As I looked at her, I remembered-she still hasn't apologized.

But why is she standing here all alone? Where's her family, her friends? Wait a minute... Why am I even thinking about her? It's none of my business.

Despite telling myself this, my gaze kept drifting back to her, watching her struggle with her outfit, her purse, her heels, and her loose hair. I was so absorbed in watching her that I didn't realize when our eyes met. In that moment, I couldn't look away; her almond eyes were locked onto mine, and even my own eyes betrayed me, refusing to turn away from her.

I have no idea what's happening to me. I've never stared at a woman for this long, but here I am, gazing at her as if she's the only sight my eyes crave for. But why? What is it about her? She's dangerous, she's crazy, clumsy, childish, and-most importantly-she's a hacker, a hacker who broke into my office and might as well hack into me, too.

Then why am I thinking about her so much?

"I know, Mr. Qureshi, I'm addictive, but that doesn't mean you should keep holding the car door and stare at me!" Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I realized she was standing right in front of me, just inches away, and my heart skipped a beat.

"W-what?" I stuttered under my breath as my voice wasn't audible to her. But the strange thing is why am I stuttering? Especially in front of her?

"I mean, thank you for holding the door for me," she said casually before slipping into the car, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded.

What just happened?

"Excuse me, you can't sit here!" I quickly bent down, showing her the note with stern expressions.

"I don't think my boss is that rude. Rude enough to refuse a lift to his employee," she responded with a cute pout, tucking her hair back.

I wanted to stay serious, but her hair-it's distracting me.

"So, this is how you ask for a lift?" I showed her the next note, while trying my my best to act stern.

"Um... Mr. Qureshi-"

"Sir!" I corrected her.

"Sir, can you give me a lift?" she asked with a forced smile.

"Don't you think something is missing in your sentence, Ms. Dangerous Woman?" I showed her my next text with a smirk playing on my lips.

"Sir, can you please give me a lift?" she repeated, now with gritted teeth, and I was thoroughly enjoying her annoyance.

"Fine!" I typed back, then closed the door, moved to the other side, and took my seat beside her. Once I was settled, I turned to find her already staring at me, her chin resting on her hands, as if she was admiring a baby or a flower.

I sat up straight, trying not to look at her, because there's something about her that's distracting me. My stone heart suddenly starts beating whenever she's around.

Even when she broke into my office, our eyes met, and my heart reacted just from looking at her. Now, as she is just inches away, even my breathing is betraying me.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of heat fill the car. I opened the window, but it wasn't enough. I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt.

"Why just one? Open all of them if you're feeling hot, Mr. Qureshi," I froze when I heard her seductive voice and turned toward her, only to see her giving me a bold smile. She's definitely crazy. And why on earth does her smile look so adorable? No woman has ever dared to even look at me, and here she is, not only staring but sitting with me and flirting as if she's my girlfriend.

Without responding, I turned back to my buttons and unbuttoned two more.

"Come on, just two more to go, Mr. Qureshi. You can do it, or should I help you?" Her voice sounded even more seductive. How can she say these things so casually?

I looked at her, shocked by her words.

"Should I?" she asked softly.

And that was it-I'd had enough. It was my mistake to give her a lift-or rather, she'd forced her way into my car.

"Thank you so much," I wrote, showing her with a tight smile.

"its okay, I'll open them in the future," she responded, and I almost choked, starting to cough. Her words alone could kill me.

The worst part is, I can't even shout at her. Not because I can't talk, but because my heart won't let me.

She handed me a bottle of water, and I gulped it down in one go.

"Are you alright?" she asked, taking the bottle back and closing it.

"All thanks to you," I wrote in the notebook.

"My pleasure," she replied casually.

I was just praying for this drive with her to end.

Silence filled the car as she got engrossed in her phone, while I-what was I doing? Why am I still thinking about her when she's right here? Rehan, stop thinking about her. I tried to reassure myself, feeling a strange uneasiness from her sudden silence.

I found myself sneaking glances at her. Her outfit fit her curves perfectly, with her bare waist just in view, and I remembered how I felt when I grabbed her waist. What might she be thinking of me?

Then my eyes traveled up to her face-not just her face, but a kind of addictive sight. Her black hair cascaded down to her waist. Without realizing it, I leaned closer, drawn by her scent. She was still focused on her phone, so I reached out, gently holding a strand of her hair, breathing in its fragrance. Her hair is just like her-addictive.

My gaze moved to her eyes, slightly downcast, highlighting her long lashes, then to her nose ring, which enhanced her soft cheeks. And if that wasn't enough, her lips drew my attention. Her red lips were more addictive than anything else.

I tried to look away, but my eyes betrayed me, refusing to look anywhere else. What's her name? At this point, I desperately wanted to know the name of the woman who had captured the attention of this mafia boss.

Who are you, crazy woman, and why do you seem familiar? I can't be drawn to you or any other woman except her, so why are you so captivating? Why is my heart reacting to you?

"What's your name?" I showed her the notebook.

"You don't know who I am?" she asked, giving me a pointed look.

"You never told me," I replied, showing her another line, genuinely confused.

"Great, find it out," she said casually, getting engrossed in her phone again. Her phone was now starting to annoy me. What's so important on it that she isn't even talking to me? And why am I so concerned to know her name?

A few minutes later, her phone rang, and she answered a video call. She adjusted herself, moving a bit further from me so I wouldn't be in view. I ignored her, staying focused on my phone, until I heard a male voice.

I looked over, only to see her smiling.

Who's bold enough to make her smile? And why does it bother me? I tried to focus on my phone again, but I couldn't help overhearing him compliment her.

"You look incredibly stunning, woman," his voice was energetic, like a fanboy.

Why the hell are my nerves twitching? He's probably just a friend.

"Thank you so much, Sahil," she responded with equal enthusiasm.

My eyes were on my phone, but my ears were fully tuned to their conversation.

"I'm sure many guys have asked you out. So, tell me, who's the lucky one?" he teased.

Whether she's been asked out or not is none of his business-or mine. But still, I was curious to know who had.

"Well, it doesn't matter how many ask me because my eyes are fixed on only one person. Let's see if he asks me out or not." She looked right at me when she answered.

I know I'm a mafia -I shouldn't blush-but I felt my cheeks grow warm as she looked at me, saying those words, and a proud smile appeared on my face. Her answer had spared many lives because those men who dared to ask her out wouldn't have seen another sunrise.

"But your eyes are fixed on me right now, so should I assume that I'm the one?" This man... I'll kill him. A sudden surge of anger rose within me, and instinctively, my hand traveled to her waist, holding her tightly. She looked at me, visibly confused, while I just stared at her.

"Speak up," that man interrupted us.

"Umm... I'll call you later, Sahil," she stammered, ending the call. She turned back to me, and for the first time, there was no boldness on her face-just a faint blush on her cheeks, which looked incredibly beautiful. In that moment, I realized something else about her: she doesn't need artificial blush; she has her own natural glow.

But what was causing her blush? Was it my hand on her waist, or that ridiculous question the guy asked? I hoped it was the first reason.

"Are you jealous, Mr. Qureshi?" she asked directly, catching me off guard.

Jealous? Me? Over her? Because of that guy? She seriously needed to see a psychiatrist.

Why would I be jealous if she talks to another man, smiles at him, even laughs with him, or tucks her hair in front of him? It's none of my business.

Instead of responding, I tightened my grip on her waist and pulled her closer.

"I guess you are!" she declared, not breaking eye contact.

Am I? Am I not? I don't know? 'Maybe!' that's the only option I could think of.

"Just admit it, you're jealous," she insisted, as if she would keep saying it until I admit it.

I tightened my grip and pulled her even closer, looking at her intently. Suddenly, she hissed in pain, and I let her go immediately.

She clutched her waist. Was I too rough?

"I'm sorry," I wrote in my notebook, unsure of what had happened to her.

"It's okay," she said, rubbing her waist.

I wanted to help her, but shame held me back. Why did I do that to her? Was I really jealous of that man? You messed up, Rehan, I scolded myself.

As we neared her friend's house, my eyes glanced at a medical store. I told the driver to stop and got out of the car.

"Where are you going?" she asked, looking confused.

"Just a minute, I'll be back," I wrote and took the diary with me.

Inside the store, I searched my phone for creams for rashes.

"How may I help you, sir?" a boy in his twenties asked.

"Can I get a cream for rashes?" I wrote in my notebook.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression, making me feel a bit awkward. Without saying anything, he packed the cream.

I was about to write down another item when his voice interrupted me.

"I guess you need chocolates, sir." I was surprised by his words-how did he know?

I nodded and picked out a few chocolates. The boy packed them, and holding the bag, I got back into the car.

"Here's something for you as my apology," I wrote on my note and handed her the bag.

"So this is my first gift from you, Mr. Qureshi." This woman can't be serious, even for a second. I'm the one who deserves an apology, yet here I am, apologizing to her. And instead of accepting it, she's teasing me!

"Do you want it?" I ignored her flirtatious remark and wrote my response.

"Of course, it's my first apology gift from you." She smiled as she took it, right now she looked like a little kid-a cute kid.

"Thank you," she mumbled, catching me off guard again.

Did she really just say "thank you"? She knows how to say that?

I nodded in response as we reached the mansion. Getting out, I opened the door for her and waited while my-- I mean the "dangerous woman" gathered all her things.

After about two minutes, she finally stepped out and was about to walk away when I grabbed her hand, pulling her close.

She was now right in front of me, our faces just inches apart. I took a step closer, leaned near her ear, and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Good night, Princess," I whispered softly. I looked at her and saw her standing there, stunned. Slowly, I lifted her hand and kissed it.

"Take care," I whispered again before turning to walk away. But I stopped when she suddenly pulled me closer.

If boldness had a face, it would definitely be hers. She didn't even hesitate to pull me closer.

"'Princess' sounds nice, but I'd love it if you called me by my name. It's Jasmine-for you, Mr. Qureshi," she whispered near my ear before heading toward the door. And I stood there, shocked.

No way-it's her. It can't be her. She can't possibly be that betrayer. She can't be the Jasmine I'm thinking of... No, she can't be! I screamed internally as I watched her disappearing figure.

Jasmine? Princess?

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! Your feedback means the world to me, but there's no pressure-vote or comment only if you feel moved to share your thoughts. Every reaction, every insight from you brings so much joy, and I'm always eager to hear what you think!

Thank you for reading and for being part of this journey. Looking forward to hearing from you in the comments.

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