She paced through the penthouse like a restless ghost trapped inside a lighthouse.
From the living room to the hallway.
From the hallway back to the living room.
Again and again.
Her heart refused to calm down. It kept sinking deeper and deeper into her chest, like a stone thrown into dark water.
God… what was she going to do?
Yahzaan had sounded angry on the call.
No, not just angry.
Furious.
And instead of fixing the situation, she had made it worse by cutting the call and ignoring the rest of them.
Only God knew how many hours had passed like that.
At some point the bright afternoon had quietly faded away. The sky outside had turned darker, the sun slowly lowering toward the horizon. Gold and deep orange melted into shadows, the last light stretching across the city like a dying flame.
Layla stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the setting sun.
As the sun sank lower, something inside her sank with it.
The world outside was so big.
So alive.
And she felt so small inside this towering glass cage.
Then suddenl a sound echoed in the vacant penthouse.
The quiet mechanical hum of the private elevator.
Her heart lurched violently in her chest.
She turned.
The elevator doors slid open.
And he walked out.
His crisp white shirt was perfectly fitted, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the strength of his forearms. His dark hair was pushed neatly back. He looked every bit of the Crown Prince He is.
Untouchable.
Powerful.
Terrifying.
And there she was.
A mess.
Her hands trembling. Her breathing uneven. Fear written all over her face.
He began walking toward her.
Slow, steady steps.
Layla stopped breathing, her body froze on the spot, even though every sane part of her mind screamed at her to run.
“What happened, Layla?” he asked calmly.
His eyes locked onto her.
“You were very courageous on the call.”
Another step closer.
“Now you’re as quiet as a bird.”
Her feet moved on instinct.
One step back.
Then another.
But every step she took back only brought him closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until her back suddenly met the cold wall behind her.
She had nowhere left to go.
He stopped right in front of her, towering over her, his presence swallowing the little space she had left.
Her pulse hammered wildly in her ears.
He slowly raised his hand.
Layla’s breath caught.
When his fingers moved toward her face, her mind immediately imagined the worst. Her body tensed, fear shooting through her veins like ice.
Her eyes shut tightly.
She braced herself.
Waiting.
Waiting for the explosion.
Waiting for the anger.
Waiting for the punishment she believed was coming.
But it never came.
His hand pulled her hijab and her raven hair cascaded down like a waterfall from ancient myths...dark, endless, untamed. For a moment it caught the dim light of the penthouse, glimmering against her trembling shoulders.
Yes, he was furious.
Furious that she had dared to talk back to him like that.
Furious that she had the audacity to cut his call.
Furious that she ignored every call that followed.
But beneath that anger… something darker stirred.
Because he couldn’t deny the truth clawing inside him.
On the phone she had sounded like a complete mess...breathless, defiant, emotional.
His mess.
And he was certain he didn’t have any degrading kinks… yet the memory of her voice arguing with him kept replaying in his mind like a sinful echo. Every sharp word, every shaky breath had fed something primal in him.
God.
She had sounded so fucking sexy.
He had been hard since that moment.
And now she was here. Right in front of him. Disheveled. Terrified. Beautiful.
The last thread of his restraint snapped.
His arm snaked around her waist and yanked her against him, their bodies colliding with a force that stole the air between them. His other hand buried itself in the thick waves of her hair, gripping it like he needed the anchor.
Then his lips crashed into hers.
Desperate.
Hungry.
Possessive.
A feverish kiss that swallowed every inch of space between them.
Layla froze.
Her lungs forgot how to work. Her mind went blank. The world around them dissolved into nothing but the heat of his mouth and the crushing grip around her waist.
For a moment she didn’t breathe at all.
Yahzaan noticed it immediately.
He tore his mouth away from hers, his breath still uneven, chest rising and falling as if he had been running instead of kissing her.
Layla’s eyes were still on him...wide and terrified.
And she wasn’t breathing.
His warm hand touched her face as he commanded.
“Breathe, Layla.”
His voice was firm, almost rough.
As if the order itself forced life back into her lungs.
A sudden gasp escaped her lips, her chest jerking as air finally rushed inside. Her fingers trembled slightly against the wall behind her.
He didn’t step away.
His body was still pressed against hers, the heat of him caging her between the wall and his chest.
“You know,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with restrained fury, “I can punish you for your stupidity.”
Her eyes watered immediately.
Green.
Beautiful.
Enchanting.
The kind of green that could make a man forget his own name.
They lifted to meet his, wide and shimmering with fear.
“Please… don’t.”
The words were barely a whisper.
And then it happened.
The dam finally broke.
Tears spilled from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks one after another, helpless and silent.
Yahzaan cursed sharply under his breath and stepped back as if the tears themselves had burned him.
Because they did something in his chest he hated most.
Frustrated, he turned away from her and walked toward the liquor cabinet. His movements were sharp, controlled, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the storm inside him.
He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a large amount into a glass.
His jaw tightened.
He was furious.
At her.
At himself.
At whatever the hell this was between them.
But before the glass could touch his lips, her small voice reached him from behind.
“Please don’t… it’s haram.”
For a moment he froze.
Then a bitter chuckle left his mouth.
A humorless sound filled the room.
Slowly, he lowered the glass.
But his anger was still boiling under his skin.
And in that careless, irritated motion, he misplaced the glass on the edge of the counter and The next second The glass slipped and shattered against the marble floor a sharp sound echoed in the penthouse.
For Layla, it wasn’t just broken glass.
It was a sign.
A terrifying confirmation that he was far beyond angry now.
And without thinking, she ran.
Straight toward the open
elevator door.
Escape.
That was the only word screaming inside her head.
Escape
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End of the chapter🤍
Thank you for reading ✨
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