"Mam, the deal with the Malhotras-" My assistant walked in, nose buried in her tablet as always, probably about to update me on some publishing contract or acquisition.

(It was an important one, actually. They had new writers, a few interesting manuscripts, and were looking to collaborate with our firm... but who cares? Not right now. Not tonight.)

I cut her off, my eyes still glued to my phone.
"Leave it for now. Just tell me everything's arranged for the dinner, right? No last-minute screw-ups."

"Yes, ma'am. It's all handled but the deal-"

"You can take care of it. Or loop Roy in if you have to. I trust you both." I finally looked up, lips curving into a deliberately casual smile. "Now help me. Should I wear black or red tonight?"

My tone was light, as if I was going out for a friend's birthday. But tonight wasn't about celebration. It was about claiming something... someone.

---

The upscale restaurant shimmered under soft amber lighting, the kind of warmth that made everything seem less dangerous than it really was. But I wasn't fooled. I knew exactly what I was doing.

I had arrived early. Control the setting, control the outcome - I had learned that early in my career. A corner table, semi-hidden, dimly lit. No curious glances, no interruptions.

It had been just under four months since I first saw him - Mahir - on that business panel interview. And something had clicked in me. At first it was curiosity. Then fascination. Then... addiction. His voice, his calm, his sharp mind, the way he always wore black - I wanted to understand him. Then I wanted to touch him. And now...

I wanted to own him.

The door opened. I didn't need to look, but I did. My heart jolted. There he was - confident, polished, mine.

He scanned the room, then spotted me. That polite smile again. So unaware. So beautifully unaware.

"Mahir, it's good to see you," I said with deliberate warmth. "I'm glad you could make it."

He nodded, sliding into the seat opposite mine. "Thanks for the invite. This place is... really something."

We talked - about business mostly. He didn't know that I already knew the answers to most of the questions I asked. That I had watched every video, read every article, memorized his tone. That I could predict his next word if I wanted.

But tonight wasn't about conversation. It was about transition.

The waiter brought our drinks, and I played my part. Laughed when I needed to. Looked intrigued. I raised my glass - the untainted one - and took a sip.

Then, like a quiet act of magic, I swapped them.

He picked it up without hesitation.

I watched. And waited.

Minutes passed. The drug was subtle. Gentle. Like a slow wave that would pull him under before he even noticed the tide had changed.

He blinked slower. Moved slower. I leaned in, concerned. "You okay?"

He nodded faintly, fingers tightening around the glass. "Just... tired, maybe."

Of course, saint. That's what it does.

"Let's get you some air. You don't look too good."

He didn't resist. Why would he?

I helped him out, guiding him with practiced grace. Outside, the night was crisp. I could feel the wind graze my neck, but inside, I was on fire.

I opened the car door and helped him in. Secured him gently. Carefully. Like something precious. His head lolled back. His lips slightly parted.

God, he looked perfect.

I slid behind the wheel, stealing glances as I drove. The hum of the engine was the only sound, and it felt like the world had folded in half - leaving just me, and him, and the stars.

And the warehouse.

My sanctuary.

His new temple.

The beginning of us.

It was so peaceful and captivating, just me and my saint in the quiet night's air. I glanced at his unconscious figure occasionally. He looked even more beautiful laying there so peacefully that I couldn't help but smile. My mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead. The warehouse, my secret haven, was ready for this moment, ready for my saint.

The city lights blurred past the windshield, my fingers drumming faintly on the steering wheel. Every turn of the road felt like a ribbon tying him closer to me. I could already see it - the quiet hum of the overhead light, the warmth of soft fabrics waiting for him, the silent confessions stitched into the walls.

Tonight, I wasn't just taking him somewhere.

I was taking him home.

.
.
.
.
.
AN : So.. She actually kidnapped him.. Ig we all saw that coming..

What's gonna happen next?

What if mahir wakes up in the middle of the ride?

Do let me know what you think.. Your comments make me so happy ❣️

I love my butterflies🦋

Also I am seeing.. The reads the decreasing with each chapter.. Not fair🤧

Anyways Thankyou you all.. Happy reading 🥀