I guess today might be my last day on earth. I still can't believe I'm sitting on Mr. Asad Riaz, aka my fake mafia's lap. And no doubt, his thighs are smooth like butter. What's his problem, huh? He freaking threatens me, orders me around, punishes me by completely devouring my neck, and now he's pulling me onto his lap as if I weight nothing more than a feather!

I don't even know how to react at this moment, especially when he's staring deep into my soul, and my hands are on the verge of tearing that damn black shirt of his, with two buttons undone, giving me a perfect view of his bare, milky chest. How is this even possible? My luck couldn't be this good to have him in my life. Asad Riaz, the man every woman craves, is my arranged fiance?

"If you're done staring at my chest, look at me, love," he said, his grey eyes darkening as he brought his large, rough hand toward my jaw, lifting my chin to meet his gaze.

The moment I looked at him, I couldn't even blink. He's literally a walking red flag, yet here I am, head over heels for him.

"I'm hungry," I said shamelessly, speaking the right words at the absolute wrong time.

No, I'm not hungry for food. Instead, I need him-I need this rude man to be mine.

"Fine," his tone shifted in an instant. The stares, the smirk, the soft touches-all of it disappeared, as if he hadn't just sent millions of incredible punches to my stomach.

But instead of letting go, he held me even tighter against him.

One of his hands rested securely on my waist, caressing it, while the other was on my lap, placed there as it's his place.

I looked at him-expressionless now-and then at his hand, which was resting so casually in both places.

My luck must be cursed. I can't even yell at him, nor can I tell him how much the placement of his hands is affecting my poor heart and soul.

"W-will you leave me?" I stuttered, feeling completely embarrassed. No! I should act stern, but why am I stuttering?

"Never." That single word, spoken in his rough voice, was my new weakness.

"Then how are we supposed to get to the restaurant?" I asked, quickly averting my eyes from him. I couldn't hold his gaze any longer-because the more I looked, the deeper I drowned in those eyes.

"We're already near a restaurant," he said in a deep voice. I still didn't look at him. Instead, my gaze remained fixed on his hands. Even his veins seemed attractive-and that Rolex watch? Just the cherry on top of his perfection.

Where have I gotten myself into?

Asad carefully removed his hand from my waist and unbuckled his seatbelt. Then, without warning, he grabbed my waist again, holding me firmly in his arms as he stepped out of his Mercedes.

My hands instinctively wrapped around his neck as he lifted me in a bridal style, standing boldly in the middle of a public place.

And in that moment, my heart nearly stopped beating from the sheer audacity of his actions.

What the hell is wrong with him today?

Damn, I shouldn't have agreed to this date...

"Please put me down before I die out of embarrassment, Asad," I said, hiding my face against his chest. But even that turned out to be a mistake-my lips accidentally brushed against his bare chest, leaving a red lipstick mark behind.

"The whole world should know who you belong to, love," he said in a voice so seductive it was enough to make my heart stop. And as if that wasn't enough, he clutched me even closer to him.

"I think the world has seen enough. Please, do me the honor of putting me down," I said, resorting to a request instead of arguing with him. I knew by now that the more I argued, the more he'd pull stunts like this.

"As you say, Miss Nasr," he finally said, showing a rare moment of mercy as he carefully set me down. Yet, even then, he held my hand firmly to make sure I didn't stumble.

Stumble? If he doesn't let go of my hand now, I'll fall flat on the ground.

He's dangerous. He's dangerous. He's dangerous. Yet... he's so freaking hot! I was battling with my inner thoughts, all because of his mere touch.

I finally lifted my gaze and realized we were still near the museum. Feeling a bit confused, I glanced at Asad, who was busy staring at the museum. Sensing my gaze, he turned to look at me and raised his hand, pointing to our left. There, in full view, stood an old Italian restaurant.

The street, the museum, the restaurant-everything around us seemed alive and captivating, but somehow, he managed to steal the spotlight.

But wait... if the restaurant was right here, why did he take me to his car in the first place?

"Aren't you hungry anymore?" he taunted, noticing my silence.

"Rude Mafia," I blurted out, narrowing my eyes at him. He raised his eyebrows in response, but instead of backing down or getting flustered, I flipped my hair confidently. Unfortunately, they brushed against his face. I knew I should apologize, but would I? Nah.

I was about to walk toward the restaurant when I felt his strong hand grab me and pull me close again.

"You're either walking with me, or we're not going in," he declared, his intense gaze fixed on me.

Why does he always look at me like there's nothing else in the world to focus on? Even when he's threatening me or saying something normal, his eyes never leave mine.

Utterly famished, I gave up arguing with him and gently squeezed his hand as a sign of agreement.

Taking that as his cue, we started walking toward the restaurant.

The place was absolutely ethereal, exuding an ancient charm. It was one of the oldest restaurants in the area, with a cozy brown-themed decor. As we entered, a waiter approached us and guided us to our table.

To my surprise, the section he took us to was completely empty. There wasn't a single soul around-just a table for two in the center, decorated with red flowers atop a pristine white tablecloth.

"Don't tell me you booked this place... and it's actually a date?" I asked, utterly mesmerized and shocked at the same time. This beautiful setup could only be described as a dream-like lunch date.

"It's not a date," he replied sternly, then turned his attention to the waiter, placing our orders while still holding my hand.

Standing beside him, I looked down at our intertwined hands, blushing slightly before letting my gaze wander back to him.

He's a masterpiece, a sculpture crafted by God with the utmost patience, leaving no flaws. Except, of course, for the fact that God must have forgotten to add manners and, instead, poured in an ocean of attitude and beauty.

After ordering something-which I completely missed because I was too distracted by admiring him-he finally looked at me. He didn't say a word, but for a moment, I saw something different in his eyes. What was it? It only lasted a second, but it felt as if his soul had paused.

Then he led me to the table and pulled the chair out for me. I was still lost in that fleeting eye contact, replaying it in my mind. His eyes had been blank, yet it felt as though, for a second, everything within him had stopped.

"Let's order. What do you want to have, Ms. Nasr?" Asad asked as he sat across from me, effortlessly crossing his legs and resting his hands on his thigh. He looked like a model straight out of a magazine.

"You," I blurted out, completely out of nowhere.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer and resting his jaw on his hand.

"You order," I quickly corrected myself, trying to salvage the situation.

"You're okay with whatever I order, Ms. Nasr?" he asked, smirking, a playful smile dancing on his addictive lips.

No! I hated his taste, but I couldn't backtrack on my words now, so I forced myself to nod.

"Yes, Mr. Riaz. Well, I don't think you have bad taste, so sure, go ahead," I said through gritted teeth, though every fiber of my being wanted to run away. How could I keep embarrassing myself like this?

"Well, I do have bad taste, and you're a live example of it," he teased, still resting his jaw on his hand. I couldn't believe his audacity-he had this ability to infuriate me to the point of boiling my blood pressure and, at the same time, melt me into a puddle with that rare, devastating smile of his.

He smiled-it wasn't just happiness, it was peace radiating from him. And it stirred something in me because I saw something different in him today.

"Well, you can always change your taste. I don't think that would be too hard for you," I replied confidently, refusing to let him have the upper hand.

"Guess I'm too used to bad habits," he said, his tone calm but clear. And I knew-I was the bad habit he couldn't get rid of.

"Don't you want to change it?" I asked, further.

"Never," came his firm reply, without hesitation.

If you don't want to leave me, then why can't you love me, Asad? Am I really that unworthy of your love? Do I deserve your hatred? I wanted to ask him so many questions. Why did he hate me? What was the reason behind it? And what was the reason behind his loss? And what had he lost?

I didn't say another word and lowered my gaze to my lap, where the memory of his hand resting lingered, replaying itself in my mind.

I never knew what love was, nor do I know its true meaning.

During my childhood, my mom and dad were busy building their careers to give us a better life, but they never gave us their time or attention. Then, in my adult years, I got busy building my own career and moved to America. While living there, I never missed our conversations because, truthfully, we never had any. But I did miss their presence.

And now there is this person who claims to hate me, yet gives me his full attention. He looks at me as if he's seeing himself in my eyes, staring at me as if he's reading the entire existence of Aleena Nasr.

I never craved love or attention before, but now I do. I crave his gaze, his touch.

When he holds my hand, I feel safe. When he sees me, I feel safe. When he talks to me, I feel safe. I don't know what it is-is it really love, or just a mere infatuation? I don't know, and I don't want to know either, because I'm happy just thinking that he is with me.

"Are you okay, love?" Asad's calm voice broke through my thoughts, and when I looked up, I realized he was already staring at me.

Don't look at me with those eyes, Asad. I'm afraid if you see my darkness, you won't ever look at me again. And I'm terrified of losing you now.

"Yes, I'm fine," I lied. I don't know what's happening to me, but perhaps it's his care that's making me think this way.

After five minutes, our order arrived. Pushing aside my thoughts, I looked at the dishes, and a small smile crept onto my lips.

Indian dishes were placed before us-the same ones we had on our engagement day at an Italian restaurant, and here we are again at another Italian restaurant.

He still remembers my choices?

I looked at him; he looked at me. He smiled. I blushed.

He began serving me, and I quickly looked down, hiding my emotions.

"You're great at making deals, aren't you, Miss Nasr?" His sudden question made me look at him.

"Any doubt, Mr. Riaz?" I asked while taking a bite of kebab.

"Yes," he said, and I paused midway through eating.

Before I could give him a narrowed look, he continued, "Let's test your ability, Miss Nasr," his tone turning professional.

"My work isn't so small that it needs testing, Mr. Riaz," I replied confidently, matching his professional demeanor.

"Then?" he questioned, waiting for my response.

"What do you have to offer me?" I countered.

"Anything you want," Asad smirked.

"Your car," I replied instantly, watching his smile vanish in seconds.

"Some dreams never come true, Miss Nasr," Asad's tone turned serious.

"It's not a dream, it's a deal, Mr. Riaz. If you want me to do something for you, I'll need something in return," I said firmly.

"Let's make it easier. You can drive it once-"

"Done!" I agreed immediately, cutting him off.

Although I wanted the whole car, for now, I was okay with just driving his Rolls Royce. To be honest, I was never a car enthusiast, but his car was something special. The urge to have it from him became my new mission. Half of it was now completed, and soon, I'd have the keys too.

"So, how can I help you?" I asked, ready to hear his offer.

"You thought about it sooner than I expected," he taunted, but I ignored him and continued serving him the dishes.

He explained his offer, and with that, we completed our lunch date.

Sharp at 5, we found ourselves returning to Asad's farmhouse. On my way to the entrance, I saw Jasmine walking toward us, looking every bit like a boss.

Her straight hair was left open, she was wearing a tight black outfit paired with sports shoes-radiating total baddie vibes. She stopped near me.

Asad walked ahead, busy on a call, and I immediately pulled Jasmine's hand, whispering to her, "Is this how you're going on a date, Jasmine?" I asked, shocked by her look. In the morning, she looked like a princess, and now she was giving off total badass vibes.

"Yes, my love," she teased, using the term endearingly, then smirked and walked out of the door.

Without giving much thought to her and her wild date ideas, I made my way to the hall and started browsing for a movie to watch.



At exactly 4:30, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, fixing my hair for a date I never planned to attend.

First and foremost, she's crazy. Second, she's driving me crazy. She told me to be ready by 5 for a date, and here I am, ready 30 minutes earlier than the scheduled time.

Why am I even doing this in the first place?

Am I really a lawyer?

Why am I following her orders?

At this point, I seriously needed to have a serious talk with myself.

No, she's just my soon-to-be employee, and I'm her boss. It's not a date; it's a deal where I treat her a cup of coffee every day. That's it, I reassured myself.

But, what's so wrong about going on a date?

Everything is wrong about going on a date with Jasmin. She's utterly dangerous, and I have no idea what she'll do next. It's insane, but I'm afraid of her unpredictable moves.

At our first meeting, she punched me.

At the second, she made me lose myself so much that I got jealous when her male friend made her smile.

At the third, she pushed me into a pool.

At the fourth, she literally stared at my bare back and didn't hesitate for a second to say something that completely froze my mind.

And now, this doesn't feel like a date. It feels more like a dangerous date, one I don't want to unfold but feel forced to.

But... I can always say no to her, right?

Yeah, all I have to do is say, "Princess, I'm not coming on a date." That's it. Yes, that's it. I encouraged myself one last time and, wearing a white men's vest, black leather jacket, black leather pants, and boots, with my long hair flowing freely, I walked toward her room.

While planning which room to give to the ladies, her room, which was right next to mine, caught my attention, and I declared it would be hers. Not because I wanted her close to me, but because it would be easier to walk over and ask if she needed anything. That's it!

Giving myself all these false reasons, I stood near her door, waiting for her to open it.

In seconds, she opened the door and I... Forgot... To... Blink.

"I'll be right back," I said, walking to my room and slamming the door behind me. I'm sure she heard the sound, but what was I supposed to do?

I placed my hand on my heart and then looked down. Realization hit me-I placed my hand on the wrong side. My heart is on the left!

There's no way I'm going out with her. She literally has no right to look this hot. I don't even know how many lives I would take today if anyone even dares to raise their eyes and look at her.

I'm not taking that risk!

I said to myself, sitting on my bed, but my legs were shaking uneasily, telling me to open the door, break into her room, push her against the nearest wall, and kiss those lips of hers for looking this beautiful right now.

The morning view of her wasn't enough. Now, she's literally planning to kill me?

What a woman she is. Incredibly dangerous, yet this attractive at the same time.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard a knock, and she called out. I immediately walked over and opened the door.

And once again, I forgot to blink.

First, her dark, long hair. Second, her breath-taking black outfit that hugged her curves just right, with her long, embroidered sleeves making her hands even more beautiful. Third, the nose pin, which only added to her beauty, leaving me-Rehan Qureshi-breathless. And last, but definitely not least, her entire existence standing in front of me, looking at me.

"Let's go," she said.

"Yes," I replied.

Congratulations, Rehan Qureshi, for being the first to ruin yourself, I taunted myself.

"I'll be waiting outside," Jasmin said. Somehow, she understood that I needed time to collect myself after seeing her like this, so she left. I cursed myself for losing control.

What the hell was wrong with you, Rehan? Was it really that hard to say no, that you said yes in an instant?

Calming my nerves, I grabbed my phone and wallet and walked out, ready to unfold this forced date of hers.

I walked out and was met with another surprise-she was standing next to two bikes.

She's definitely crazy, I thought, but impressive at the same time.

"Ready for the date, Mr. Qureshi?" Jasmine asked, bringing the helmet toward me.

"Of course I am." A sudden wave of excitement filled me, eager to experience something adventurous with her. I seized the helmet and put it on.

Before I could put on the helmet, I noticed her struggling to remove the strap. I walked over and offered my help. Without saying a word, she handed it to me. As Jasmine watched my hand movements, I took small glances at her, capturing every little detail.

Her nose pin, on the right side of her nose, lt looked like a diamond is wearing a diamond, and I was admiring both at the same time.

Her plump maroon lips caught my attention, and I gulped hard, thinking about what I had considered doing with those lips just moments ago.

I didn't want my imagination to run wild. If I dared to act on those thoughts, she wouldn't hesitate to punch me again, but I doubt... would she push me away or pull me closer? My heart raced at the thought, but I tried not to show any emotions I was feeling.

After removing the strap, I gently caressed her hair and brushed the back of her ear. Jasmine looked at me, her eyes filled with peace.

"Can I?" I asked calmly.

She nodded, and I placed the helmet on her head, securing the strap. As she started to walk away, I pulled her closer by grabbing her waist with both hands. The moment my hands touched her waist, I felt a sense of peace, as if everything was in place. It's crazy to think that I'm getting used to her waist now.

"Where are we heading, princess?" I asked, removing the shield from her helmet so I could look into her dark eyes.

"On a ride," she replied cheerfully.

"You know how to ride a bike?" I asked with a smirk.

"Not just bikes, Mr. Qureshi," she said, and her words were like a whirlwind, leaving me speechless.

How does she pull this off?

"I'm not good at riding," I said, pulling her even closer and squeezing her waist, feeling her audacity to flirt so smoothly.

"But I am," she replied, once again leaving me speechless.

She is surely going to be the death of me one day with her words.

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