𝕲od, if only my brothers could see me now.

Altamash, as expected, had thrown a hissy fit choosing to go head to head with Daada Jaan. Furious at my victory and humbled by the support I'd received, he'd left the house with his wife, only cementing how unfit he was for the role. Daada Jaan's disappointment and disapproval was a neon sign pointing to his plummeting levels of confidence in the new CEO of Mughal Co.

And the other one, Taimoor, also acted just as expected. He had maintained his sullen silence. Which was contrastingly, a vote of confidence from his end.

"You couldn't have picked a better time boss," Ushna grumbled out, one of her hands clutched around her coffee cup, the other swiping on her phone.

"Glad you approve."

"Oh I approve," her eyes moved to the figure waiting for us on the tarmac. "I approve wholeheartedly."

Clouds blanketed the sky and threatened rain, but Asfand wore sunglasses as he stood on the tarmac beside the family jet, deep in conversation on his phone as I climbed out of the back seat of the Rolls Royce that had been sent to pick us up.

When he spotted me lingering beside the car, he stopped talking mid-sentence. I couldn't see his gorgeous dark eyes behind the dark lenses, but I imagined them studying and evaluating me. I'd made a conscious effort not to dress too sexy, but when his sunglasses came off, it looked as if I'd failed.

My feelings came back with a vengeance.

Shit, I wanted him.

And he stared back like he wanted me, too.

"Whew, if that's how it's going to be, I can't wait to hangout with you guys. See you inside boss."

I should have followed her and went straight up the sleek, luxury airplane I'd spend the next six hours on with our small team, but instead my gaze stayed on the man dressed in a white dress shirt and jeans, casual and normal, looking anything but average.

A strange mixture of power and charisma, as my mother would have said, if she'd taken the time to look at him. There was an otherworldly sense about him, like the air parted and moved differently around him in a more respectful way.

It wasn't Asfand's fault he'd been born this way any more than it was my fault I'd come from a family that was wealthy. But as he stood there, looking like the world was at his fingertips, I felt both jealousy and admiration. I wanted a confidence like his. The easy going charm and natural poise. The knowledge that my presence was enough.

And maybe if I pulled it off at Monaco, it would be.

"Morning?"

"Good morning," the tension between us grew until it became unbearable, and I broke, walking towards him. When I reached the base of the stairs, he held out a hand, gesturing for me to go up first.

"After you."

I latched my fingers around the metal railing and began to climb, keeping my mind focused on the steps rather than the distraction following behind me.

Ushna sat at the back already on the phone, her laptop out, coordinating with the team on the ground. His personal assistant sat on the opposite side, standing up and giving me a brief nod as I approached. I watched him note the interior of the plane, a nice contrast to the constant darkness he'd been treated to. Spacious pairs of seats wrapped in creamy white leather partitioned with rich mahogany walls. Asfand handed him a file before he dropped down into the seat beside me, nodding to the flight attendant when she handed us glasses of fizzy water, and then turned his full attention on me.

"I know he'd never say it, but Taimoor is counting on you," the door to the plane pulled closed with a heavy thud.

"You're giving him a little too much credit."

Even with my attention out the window, I sensed the drop in mood in the man seated beside me.

"Look, I know you're upset and you've had a rocky relationship with him-"

"Ms. Mughal, we're ready to take off," the flight attendant interrupted to confirm the catering and then gave us the safety briefing. Outside, the engines warmed up and she took her seat behind the partition at the front.

"You never told me why you were helping Taimoor," I swallowed a breath and faced him. "Why are you doing this. Like really doing this?"

Pain clouded over him. "He was there when I needed him. It's my turn to return the favour."

We were moving now, taxiing toward the runway, and I watched the signal lights outside roll by, my heartrate ticking up a notch.

"So it's transactional?"

"Never. There's no such thing between friends."

"You're one of the few people I've met that offer him such blind loyalty. I don't understand-"

"Why?"

"Well, yes that and the fact that you're putting your reputation on the line. Why would you do that?" the question burst from me in a demanding rush.

"Some things are much bigger than just money. Having someone to count on? That's priceless. Your brother is just that," the engines ramped up and the plane accelerated, rocketing us down the runway.

"Well he's incredibly lucky he's got you."

"You've got me too."

"But I haven't done anything to-"

He moved abruptly.

"What did I just say? It's not transactional. Say the word Zee, I'll be there when you need me," his unblinking gaze locked on to mine as he took in a slow breath, drawing the moment out. Then, he straightened in his seat and shifted closer.

Zee.

Warmth flooded down through me, and my breath went shallow as he reached out and traced his fingertips over the curve of my cheek. It was featherlight, just a hint of a touch, but goosebumps showered down my arms.

My voice was a whisper, and I doubted he could hear it over the roar of the engines as we continued our ascent. "What are you doing?"

His voice was thick,smoky. "Something I shouldn't."

Down his fingertips went, trailing over my skin. We were in this weird gray area where I couldn't tell what was real. While we were both attracted to each other, we couldn't act on it. Why couldn't we act on it? Oh yeah because my family was hell bent on marrying me off to the highest bidder.

Azaan's words came back to me. 'Just find someone you like.'

Could Asfand be that person? I didn't date - but we were currently jetting off on a week-long trip together. The line separating our relationship from fact and fiction was getting blurry. I stayed rooted to the spot as I stared at him, wondering what it would feel like if I just gave in - just to see.

It could work. Would he want to? Did I want it to?

My voice dipped down into a hush.

"Asfand-"

My words were cut off with the attendant's arrival, preparing the cabin for breakfast, ready to serve us. He drew back, giving me a glimpse of his hazy eyes and the way his pulse pounded in his neck. The rapid rise and fall of his chest announced he'd been as affected as I had been, but he recovered faster.

When our plates were cleared, he set his glass in the cupholder and turned his shoulders away from me. "Try to get some sleep. We've got a long week ahead of us."

༻❂༺

After we disembarked the plane at the airport in Nice, we took a short helicopter flight to Monaco and landed on the helipad atop a hotel in Monte Carlo.

Ushna teetered on her heels, taking her second pill of the day, eyes wide from its effects. Asfand on the other hand was faring better than I expected. It was eleven in the morning - but felt like five in the evening after a restless flight to me. Dark whiskers dusted his usually clean-shaven face, and his eyes weren't as bright as normal, but leave it to him to still look amazing when he was tired. He'd at least caught a few hours of shuteye after we'd finished going over the itinerary. There were so many events, I would be surprised if we got a moment to breathe between them.

The customer relations manager of the hotel greeted us with gusto and gave us a welcome smile through the reflection in the doors. He was a tall, elegant man with a thick French accent and perfect posture that would make a ballerina weep.

"Bienvenue madame et monsieur," he lifted a hand and signalled to the bell boy who came running. "Should I make arrangements for brunch?"

"We should try to nap before our meeting with Jan," Asfand said abruptly, taking off his glasses, his face angled towards me. "It'll help us get over the jet lag faster."

Ushna nodded gesturing to Farhan, Asfand's PA.

"Well, we'll see you later then."

All three of them nodded and we spilt, the boys following the bellboy out to the elevators.

"Madame," the manager said after leading Ushna and me down the hall and unlocking the only door at the end of it. "Your Suite."

He said a bunch of other things to Ushna after that, something about an award-winning designer and the Louis XVI furnishings, but I couldn't process anything once I stepped inside. The tasteful décor was carried through the bedroom and the bathroom that boasted a marble jetted tub.

The manager gave us a quick walkthrough of the penthouse, pointing out features, and I nodded enthusiastically while absorbing absolutely zero of it, walking over to the carafe of juice placed on the table and the understated orange bag with the word Hermès printed on it.

"A welcome gift for the madame," the manager commented before moving on. "Courtesy of the hotel."

The real star of the penthouse was the enormous private terrace outside. It was as big as the entire suite. On one side, a dining table sat beneath a large umbrella, and the other side was staged as an outdoor living space with couches and chairs.

Ushna let out a low appreciative whistle. "The casino square and gardens are just below."

The manager turned away from the stunning view to face us. "Would you like to have lunch on the terrace later? Or should I make arrangements elsewhere if you prefer?"

"Lunch here would be great," I glanced at him. "At two thirty and please inform the gentlemen I arrived with to join me."

The manager gave a single nod. "Excellent."

I walked to the railing at the edge of the terrace and shielded my eyes from the bright May sunshine, scanning the landscape that wrapped around us. Palm trees dotted the green areas between buildings and streets that wound their way up the cliffside. Down in the bright blue bay, yachts filled every inch of space of the sprawling marina, and plenty more superyachts were anchored offshore in the distance.

So many potential investors. So many different paths to my freedom. So many ways to get my own way.

I hadn't realized the manager had left until Ushna appeared beside me.

"It'll be a triumph. You'll ace this," she handed me a bottle of water. "Want to do a review before lunch?"

"No. Get some rest, you'll need it for the week ahead."

༻❂༺

Lunch could have been delicious, but I didn't notice. It was taking all my remaining energy to keep my eyes open. I'd mistakenly thought the shower would help me power through, but the moment I sat at the table and stopped moving, exhaustion took over.

Asfand and I both had an appointment with a stylist later this afternoon. She'd be dressing both of us for the week and we still had to go through the final fittings.

"Hey, why don't I drop out of this?" the shift in Asfand's mood was visible. "I don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of-"

"I know you weren't aware of this Asfand, but I'm pulling rank here," he let out a breath and leaned back, casting an arm over the back of the empty chair beside him. His posture looked relaxed, but I knew better. Tension rested in his shoulders.

"At least let me pay for mine."

I frowned and flipped through the papers. "Company card being used, it's a business expense."

He turned to glance at the scenery, and the wind blew, ruffling his soft brown hair. "You're not being fair."

"Hardly anything ever is," he lifted a hand and signaled to the butler that we were finished, ending both our lunch and the conversation. While our plates were cleared and loaded onto a trolley, he followed me back inside the sitting area.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?" the butler asked.

Asfand's response came quickly. "No, that will be all. Thank you."

"Is there something else?" I tucked my hair behind my ear as I gazed at him. It gave me the perfect view of him in profile, and since he didn't notice I was watching, it allowed me to appreciate every inch of him.

He could look the part of a hedge fund manager in a bespoke suit, or an approachable politician in slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back.

But I thought he looked best in the role he wore now - a young, stylish, and confident man who was the symbol of his family and their brand. An embodiment of wealth and class and beauty. In a white polo shirt and a pair of slacks, and he looked so fucking good, I could hardly stand it.

"I-," he rubbed a hand across his chin and sighed. "No, nothing. We should head out."

It was a short walk from our hotel. We met Jan, a French-Pakistani designer outside a chic-trendy boutique, and after introductions, we were ushered to the back of the store. There was a set of sleek leather couches arranged around a low, glass table, with bottles of wine and water set on it, along with a rainbow assortment of macarons and other French pastries.

Jan was short and fit, and everything about her announced she was a force to be reckoned with, from her custom off-center jeans to her shockingly blue hair. Her French accent was charming at times, but sharp when it needed to be. Her team had at least six people on it not including herself, but it was hard to keep track because they kept rotating in and out of the back room while they presented different looks to the three of us.

I'd never worked with her but at Sara's behest and recommendation, I'd had Ushna reach out and fill out a form for her including my measurements, shoe size, and which colors I felt worked best on me. I'd had her send the itinerary of events to Jan, and she'd already chosen a few looks, so it went much quicker than I'd expected.

Nearly everything I tried on fit me, and while some of the pieces weren't things I would have picked for myself - like a red off shoulder top paired with a beige suit - Jan didn't dress me like I was suddenly a different person. She expertly found my style, where the clothes were feminine, professional and sexy but not risqué.

When I modeled a white one-shoulder dress with black trim, Asfand's gaze worked its way up my legs and his smile grew.

"Beautiful," he said in a rich voice.

Jan's head snapped toward him, then back to me, like she couldn't believe his words. Her tone verged on a sigh. "Wait till I get to you, you'll both look fabulous."

He laughed. "No offence to your clothes Jan, but with her standing next to me? We both know who the star is here."

I laughed. And then abruptly my face crumbled as tears sprang into my eyes. The rush of emotion was so strong, it was all I could do to blink them back. Asfand and Jan were both up out of their seats in a heartbeat, but he beat her to the platform I was standing on in front of the mirrors. His strong hands circled my waist, and he pulled me in.

"What's wrong?"

I tried to play it off like I found the whole thing amusing and not touching. "No, no. It's okay. It's not that, I just...I got caught by surprise."

That did nothing to alleviate his concern. "What happened?"

"It's so stupid that it's hitting me now, but," I swallowed a breath. I felt terrible. Absolutely terrible. "This all of this. What I agreed to. I'm betraying my family. We're betraying my family. I've been telling myself it isn't real, but what if I can't do it? What if I fail? What if I end up damaging Taimoor?"

His gorgeous eyes widened and flooded with a pain that showed he understood. He didn't turn away from me, but it was clear he was speaking to Jan. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Yes, of course," she said and strode quickly from the room.

He stared at me as if he could see the weight of all that I was carrying and thought it was unwarranted. "You're not doing this for them, you're doing this for you. Both you and I know that this would only piss your grandfather and brother, it wouldn't harm them. But it will end up securing your future, Taimoor's future. There is no reason for you to doubt yourself. You've got this."

"But-"

His hands tightened to keep me from running away from the truth. "Whatever happens here, good or bad, that isn't the end. And believe me, you're the only one that can make these deals happen. Taimoor knows this, Altamash knows this, hell even your grandfather agrees. Why do you think you're here?" his voice was steel. "If they had the slightest doubt that you couldn't perform the way that you can, the way I know you can, we wouldn't be here."

My shoulders lifted as I drew in an enormous, calming breath. As I evened out, he did the same, and the body I was pressed against began to soften. His hands moved, sliding to the small of my back and then working their way up, inch by slow inch.

He needed a connection, just as I did.

"You have so much faith in me," I gave a dry laugh.

"I trust you implicitly," he stated, his intense gaze on mine. That one sentence backed by so much emotion, my own feelings seem to awaken, my eyes getting teary for no reason.

I blinked away the dampness, offering him a small smile.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He nodded, yet it looked like he didn't know what to do with that information so he climbed down the single step and went to fetch Jan, who after several reassurances from me, continued with the styling.

༻❂༺

It seemed like time moved twice as fast whenever we left the hotel. I'd always enjoyed coming to the Monte Carlo, but Asfand made it a million times better.

On Tuesday, we took a tour of the pit lane and garages, where we each got a chance to fit ourselves in the driver's seat of a Formula One car, and practice changing a tire like the crew did. I forwarded the pictures I took to Ushna, who would probably have someone edit and post them to my Instagram account. I hadn't managed my social media in years and was glad she was on it.

On Wednesday we had dinner with the director of operations from the European branch of our partner company. A gourmet feast prepared by a three-star Michelin chef, but the director and his wife had been more taken with Asfand than with their meal. He charmed and flattered them in a way that seemed authentic. Natural.

Thursday, we ate a long lunch at a rooftop restaurant which overlooked one of the race turns while practice commenced below. We watched the cars slide around the corner, navigating the tight turn of the street that was boxed in by the barriers, and listened to the high-pitched whine of their engines ricochet off the surrounding buildings. I'd been to this race enough times, I knew what to expect, but getting to witness it through Asfand's eyes was both satisfying and entertaining. To appreciate the sophisticated engineering on display as the Mercedes car sped across the pavement so fast, it looked like it was gliding.

One of the drivers said it was like driving in a cage, and I could understand why. Tall chain-link fencing rose above the barrier wall to ensure no debris flew off the track and damaged the buildings lining the streets. I'd seen video from inside the car during the race, and it was terrifying.

"I saw some of my old buddies in the corner there," Asfand told me, standing at a distance, after one of the cars zoomed past. "My old work place is expanding its portfolio."

"Oh," I blinked, and his gaze drifted off. Was that a frown? He'd made a conscious decision to keep his distance ever since my small breakdown at Jan's boutique. "What's going on there?"

"They're looking to spend some money. Grab a few of those Mughal shares and drop them once they get hot."

"How much are they willing to spend?"

With a drink in his hand, he stepped closer toward me, yet careful to keep distance between us, it seemed, as he came to a stop at some invisible line.

"Seventy five percent of our current fund."

"Is there a reason they're being so generous?"

"Connection to the Mughals. Easy money," he pushed up the sleeves on his sweater and rested a hand on the railing beside me. He offered his statement like I needed more explanation. "Less red tape to get through, less complications."

"How do I get them to sign?"

"We'll see them at the party later. You can get them to sign then," he gave me a lopsided smile. "And maybe even get their loyalty."

We couldn't talk much during the ride over to where the party was being held that evening because the small boat moved fast and the wind was loud. Once we boarded the impressive yacht where the cocktails were flowing, it was all business. As the face of one of the events premiere sponsors, both Asfand and I were VIPs. We floated from one conversation to the next so everyone could express their gratitude.

We posed for pictures with the drivers, with the team principal, and other members of the crew, talking about the enhancements and improvements from the previous event. It cost hundreds of millions of dollars to race a single season in Formula One, and Mughal Co. was not only a sponsor but a participant. Our research had designed and curated the lightest of eco friendly fuels meant to make the sports cars faster, reduce their mass and be environmentally friendly.

Asfand took it all in stride.

He wasn't used to the weeklong, nonstop parties that were typical for Monaco. Could this man roll with whatever life threw at him? If he disliked working the room, I couldn't tell. He seemed to be at ease at my side, working up his charm, smile ready and dazzling.

Elated by the traction we were gaining, I grabbed my bag and had to put my lips right by Asfand's ear so he'd hear me over the waves. "I'll be back in a minute."

He nodded and straightened so I could duck past him toward the restroom.

When I finished washing my hands at the sink, I dabbed on some fresh powder and touched up my lipstick and walked out, the sea breeze fluttering around my maroon dress.

"May I escort you back to the party?"

The unfamiliar male voice made me startle, and I whirled around to face it.

A very tall, very attractive man, wearing a dark gray suit with no tie, top few buttons of his white shirt undone stood a few meters away. His gaze wandered over my dress, and once he'd finished getting his fill, the corner of his mouth turned up in a suggestive smile.

I shifted on my heels, subtly leaning away from him. "I can find my way back, thank you."

His posture was relaxed and his eyes friendly, and maybe for some other woman, this approach would work. But I wasn't interested.

"Than how will I know what name to give to security when I take you and your boyfriend on a private tour of the racing paddock," he set a hand near the wall. It had the appearance of a casual gesture, but it boxed me in between him and the exit. "Unless," his voice dropped low. "He is too busy to join us?"

I set a hand on my hip. "Thanks for the offer, but we've already toured the paddock."

He tilted his head. My statement had caught him off guard, and I saw the moment he determined I must not have understood what he was implying. He'd have to try again.

"Drinks and a tour of the yacht I'm staying on, then. Should we say tomorrow evening after the VIP meet and greet?" I took a step back then, the hair on my neck rising with unease.

"We're not going to that. Mughal Co. is rolling out a new product, so I'll be at the launch party," where I had to give a speech and close down the deals we'd been working towards.

He moved, subtly bringing his body closer, and his voice dripped with seduction. "That doesn't sound very exciting for you. Don't you think you'll have more fun with me?"

I delivered it as plainly as possible. "No."

He looked like I imagined he would if the brakes on his car suddenly stopped working. "No?" his face abruptly changed, and he let out a soft laugh.

This dude seriously wasn't getting it, meaning it was time to switch tactics.

I smeared a fake smile across my lips, placed both my hands on his shoulders, and leaned in. "Move or I'll make sure you never get within a hundred feet of a circuit for the rest of your life."

His reaction was the same as if I'd dumped cold water on him. "That's an empty threat sweetheart."

I stared up at him with a patronizing expression. "Want to bet?"

His expression soured, and he stepped back, breaking our contact. "Who are you?"

"Zeenia?" my heart thudded and tripped over itself. I'd been so wrapped up in what I'd been doing, I hadn't noticed Asfand's approach. I swiveled my head and found him staring at me. My breath caught at how betrayal teemed in his eyes. I went ramrod straight, retracting from the stranger.

I could only imagine what I looked like.

Asfand's tone was calculated, indifferent. "I was beginning to worry."

"No, sorry. I was on my way back and got..." ambushed? "Sidetracked."

The man grabbed the sides of his suit coat and adjusted how it sat across his shoulders, giving him an excuse to puff up his chest. "I was offering to escort her back to her seat."

There were knives disguised beneath my smile, and I hoped Asfand could hear them when I spoke. "This gentleman invited me for drinks on his yacht."

Asfand's posture had stiffened, and the wolf I'd always suspected lurking beneath his surface began to emerge. He stared at the guy like he'd destroy him... and he would relish every minute while he did it. He put an arm around my waist and pulled me up against him. It was surprising and possessive, sending sparks radiating down my legs.

He issued the words in a voice as strong as steel. "I'm never too busy for Zeenia."

I swallowed hard. This unexpected little interaction was working to my advantage.

The guy rose his hands in a 'peace gesture'. "It's cool. No harm no foul. I get it."

I held my smile with clenched teeth as he walked away. Asfand's mood was unreadable, and I fiddled with the purse in my hands. His face wiped clean of its small smile, his eyebrows cinching back into the frown that had been his constant companion this week.

"Let's get back to our seats," he said finally. "Got a couple of people who're interested in meeting you."

"He was just being stupid," I told him lightly as he steered him towards the gathering.

"He knew exactly what he was doing."

His words were carefully chosen but I detected an undertone of frustration. Interesting.

"If it wasn't for the business angle, I would have taken a chance."

Drawing back, he looked me in the eye for a moment, almost as if he was trying to convey everything with his gaze - the intensity, the desire and the pure frustration rolling off him. I looked back, widening mine, trying to act innocent and not at all like I was trying to push him.

His mouth tilted towards the side, mirth flashing through his expression. "No you wouldn't have."

"Why not?"

"Because you're here with me."

༻❂༺

Friday was the qualifying day and we got to spend it with the team in pit row. We sat on folding chairs with the rest of the crew, watching the monitors and listening to the radio as the cars raced in the city.

The most exciting part of the Grand Prix weekend happened late in the afternoon during qualifying. One of the McLaren drivers overheated his brakes and went careening into the barrier, leaving the track littered with carbon fiber, a wheel, and most of his front wing. He'd been okay, but there was no way his team could repair the damage in time to make the starting grid on Sunday.

Much to my obvious delight Mercedes secured the pole position.

"What a disappointing day for the defending champion," one of the broadcasters commented over the speaker playing nearby. "Team Red Bull can't be pleased with that result."

I flashed a smug smile to Asfand, who mirrored it right back.

The harbor was lined with yachts, and people milled about onboard, enjoying the perfect prerace weather. It was packed on the side streets with fans heading to their viewing spots. Some were wearing clothing in support of their favorite driver or team, but most were dressed more like Asfand and I were. Jan had done an outstanding job making us look great.

We were escorted by the staff up to the covered balcony where we'd spend the day, and while we waited for the test laps to begin, Fahad called out to snap a picture of us. We stood at the edge of the balcony, one hand on the railing, our lanyards flapping gently in the breeze.

It had been so long since I'd held a genuine smile on my face, but this one came easily.

I took the phone and evaluated the picture, only to discover he had taken several. He'd caught one where we were both mid-laugh and he was looking up at me. It made my heart go out of rhythm. Not just from the enamored way he seemed to gaze up at me, but at how natural and real we looked together.

Like a couple utterly smitten with each other.

I forced the thought from my head and gave Fahad his phone back, letting Ushna choose which image to post and write whatever caption she thought was appropriate. No need to overthink a few, well taken photographs.

Some years, the Monaco Grand Prix was full of action, or crashes, or a come-from-behind victory, but this year's concluded without much drama. The checkered flag went to our team, who'd executed a nearly flawless run, and I was thrilled for the drivers and the entire Mercedes team.

We stayed in the balcony to watch the award ceremony and the three drivers douse each other with champagne, before beginning our walk back to the hotel.

The sun was low in the sky when we arrived at the beach and were escorted to our poolside seats for the show. The catwalk for the show was a raised white platform that cut a line across the circular swimming pool of the Plaza Hotel. At one end was the media section, jammed full of photographers. At the other end was the large white backdrop with sponsorship logos laced to the metal frame. Behind it stretched the ocean.

The Grand Prix week was over, wrapped up by the charity fashion show, followed by a cocktail reception with the drivers to celebrate. The seats were arranged around the circular pool, and while we waited for the show to start, I pointed out various celebrities in attendance.

"His Royal Highness of Monaco," I said, gesturing to the older gentleman beside the stage.

Asfand smiled and shook his head. "An actual prince."

We danced on the dancefloor to the music the celebrity DJ performed, and I was happy to have the excuse to enjoy my victories. We had five of the seven potential investors in the bag. Our table became a revolving door of conversations with our new partners, all ready and eager to invest.

I didn't want this week to end, and the reason was sitting beside me now with a drink in one hand and the other holding my purse on his knee. Spending the week with him was torturous, and there was nothing I could do to alleviate the longing in my heart.

This trip was my ticket to freedom. An opportunity to exercise real power. To have control of my future. He fit into my world and he fit by my side. Someone who wasn't intimidated by my status. Who saw me and not the Mughal heiress. For the first time ever, I could see a sliver of a possible future with him.

A chance.

I couldn't make the first move, even though I usually had no problem doing so and desperately wanted to. I didn't want to loose him. Didn't want to read his unconditional friendship and support as something else. Didn't want to complicate things further. But I also couldn't dismiss the feelings bubbling inside.

I was nervous our relationship would evaporate once we were free from the spell of Monaco. So, I shifted closer to him, inhaling the scent of his sexy cologne, and decided to enjoy his company while I still could.

"Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Walk with me?"

There was a stone path attached to the lobby, and I followed him as he marched toward the glass door. When he reached it, he pulled it open and held a hand out, gesturing I go through first. I stepped outside and instantly shivered in the night breeze. Without a moment of hesitation, he shrugged off his jacket and placed it on my shoulders.

Such a gentleman.

The party carried on in the distance, and was unlikely anyone would see us out here in the near dark. One side of the patio overlooked the ocean, and waves rumbled against the rocky beach below. No one else was out here, but music and laughter from a nearby yacht drifted up toward us. Otherwise, it was quiet, and Asfand seemed to be deep in thought as we strolled toward the edge of the patio.

"What is this..."

My gaze moved from the fountain to the picnic basket beside the mattress waiting to be used. He'd probably enlisted the help of one of the managers to get the lounger and bring it in here. It rested on the pebbled ground off to the side of the fountain, lit by the landscape lighting. The space was incredibly romantic, and maybe a bit overboard, but so beautiful.

"I thought we could slow down for our last night here," his statement came out in an uneven voice, and he cleared his throat, trying to shake loose the nerves. "It's been a crazy few days and we're leaving tomorrow, so Ushna suggested this."

"Oh-" I nodded and stared at the setting, and whatever nerves I had, the same ones seemed to be getting to him too.

"Let's eat," he said as he took out a special Chef's special dessert- a mix of fruits and rose jam. We sat side by side, staring up at the sky dotted with stars. I was tall, but so was he, and so his chest brushed right up against my shoulder blades, his jaw grazing against my ear every time he leaned in to look around.

"You're not eating?" I asked in between bites, noticing him just watching me. He shook his head.

"Zeenia," his voice wavered for a second and he cleared his throat. I paused my eating, confused. I hadn't seen this version of him before. His confidence had flagged considerably. "That guy? From yesterday. If he had asked you for drinks, in a normal setting, would you have said yes?"

Was he kidding? I laughed. "Um, no."

"Why not? Because we're here on a business trip?"

"No Asfand, it's not because we were here on a business trip."

He didn't smile. He was so serious, it was sobering, and he said it like he was delivering bad news. "I know I'm in no position to say this, you can tell me to never talk about this but when he asked you, what he prepositioned, I didn't like it."

His simple statement made my heart race.

I paused, unsure of what was happening. "Huh."

He pressed his lips together as he turned to face me and gripped my shoulders. His strong hand on my bare skin made warmth surge through me. Why did he look so distraught? "I didn't want to say anything before because I wanted you to have the agency to decide. But now it's our last day here and we've got the capital we needed-" he grimaced. "Your position is solid. Taimoor's position is solid. We're ready to go against your grandfather. And I'm happy about that, believe me, I am, but all I can think about, all I can concentrate on, is how this gives you the chance to get out from under your grandfather's thumb."

I blinked, and then I parted my lips to tell him I knew where he was coming from, but his hands moved, sliding gently up and down my arms to help keep me warm. The action disabled my brain.

"I'm just asking you to take a chance," he said.

"I know," I said it softly, like I was shy to put it out there, even when it was the truth and he'd already taken the leap. "And I'm ready to take that chance but-"

"But?"

He drew back to study my reaction, and as I found myself staring at him, I could not deny this maddening connection between us - this familiarity that bordered on insanity.

"One small step at a time. We take it slow."

"There's no rush."

"Okay... glad we're on the same page here."

"Yup."

"Is that all?"

"That's all," he rested his chin in his palm as he gazed at me with deep satisfaction - as if he could get his fill just by looking at me.

My cheeks coloured slightly, especially as his lips tipped into an adoring smile.

Out of everything I would remember from this trip, this intimate moment was the one I would not stop thinking about. The one that would haunt me, like his touch - was his acceptance of me, because I craved it more than anything else.

He'd seen me in all of my forms. It didn't matter to him if I was Zeenia, Ms.Mughal, or just Zee, for him I was just me.

This boy was making his place in my heart, my soul, my very blood. And it was getting increasingly difficult to deny it.

Mughal Monday's are back! Wooot wooot 🤍Feedback is much appreciated. Looking forward to how you view Zee's and Asfand's story.

***