The sound of Ather’s sleek black car pulling into the driveway made Asra’s heart skip a beat. She quickly put down the book she wasn’t even reading and rushed toward the main entrance, her long skirt flowing around her legs and jhumkas jingling softly with every step.
The moment the tall doors opened and Ather stepped inside — still in his sharp black suit, looking every inch the powerful, dangerously handsome CEO — Asra couldn’t hold herself back.
“Sir! Sir!” she called out excitedly, her voice bright and childish.
She ran straight to him, her open silky hair bouncing behind her. Without thinking, she stopped right in front of his towering 190 cm frame, looking up at him with big, sparkling eyes like a little girl seeking approval from her father.
“Sir, Sir… how am I looking?” she asked innocently, twirling once on her toes. The short kurti and long skirt swayed beautifully, her jhumkas danced, and the light makeup made her already pretty face glow. “Do I look nice? I chose this myself today.”
She clasped her hands in front of her, swaying slightly, waiting for his verdict with a mix of nervousness and hope. Her cheeks were lightly blushed — partly from makeup, partly from shyness.
Ather stopped in his tracks.
His cold, stormy eyes slowly dragged over her from head to toe — the soft pink outfit that made her look even smaller and more delicate, the way her long hair framed her face, the subtle makeup that highlighted her innocent beauty, and those jingling jhumkas that added a sweet traditional touch.
For a few seconds, he just stared. The ruthless mafia boss and trillionaire CEO was momentarily speechless at how ethereally beautiful his young wife looked.
Asra shifted on her feet, getting nervous under his intense gaze. “Sir…? Do you not like it?” she asked softly, her voice turning a little sad, like a child who feared she had disappointed her father.
Ather took one step closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. He lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet his dark, possessive eyes.
“You look…” His voice came out low and rough. “Dangerously tempting, meri bacchi.”
He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss on her forehead, then another on her cheek, right next to her jhumka. His thumb gently traced her lower lip, smudging her lipstick just a little.
“But next time,” he added, voice dropping into that dangerous tone, “you will ask me before you dress up like this. Because right now, all I want to do is take you upstairs and ruin this pretty little outfit.”
Asra’s cheeks turned bright red. She looked down shyly, fiddling with the edge of her kurti, but a small, secret smile played on her lips.
“Sir… you’re still bad,” she whispered, half-complaining, half-blushing.
Ather smirked, pulling her closer by the waist.
“And you’re still mine.”
Write a comment ...