The drive to Ere's store is slow and agonizing. The bouquet beside me keeps brushing against my shirt, its blossoms prickling faintly at the fabric as if demanding my attention.
I scroll through Ere's page absentmindedly, a smile tugging at my lips.
The wait was finally over.
Minutes pass before Ahmed eases the car into the familiar complex and brings it to a smooth halt in front of her building.
"We're here, sir," he says, his voice low but firm as he unbuckles his seatbelt.
"Alright. Bring the flowers," I instruct, slipping on my shades to shield my eyes from the glaring sun.
Ahmed hurries out, cradling the bouquet carefully as he follows behind me.
I push the door to her store open, and immediately the air shifts.
A chorus of ouuuhs, awwwns, and drawn-out woooows fills the space.
Several women approach Ahmed, their curious hands grazing the bouquet, their voices bubbling with excitement.
"Awwn, I love a man who knows how to get to a woman's heart," one gushes, dressed in a delicate blue gown.
"The florist did such a wonderful job, it looks so thoughtful," another adds, her tone soft with admiration.
"You're such a gentleman," a third says, her eyes sparkling as if she were the one receiving the gift.
"Mr. Aanoni, welcome," Dara says suddenly, her voice laced with both warmth and surprise as she walks up to me.
Her eyes widen slightly, betraying her shock at the sheer size of the bouquet.
But even she isn't immune, her gaze lingers on the flowers as if drawn to them like everyone else.
She steps closer to Ahmed, brushing her fingers against the blossoms.
"Oh, wow. This is beautiful, Mr. Aanoni. Whoever gets this is one lucky woman."
"And you're right," I reply, my tone smooth but edged with intent. "So where's my lucky woman?"
I stroll loosely through the store, letting my eyes graze over the clothes on the racks, though my mind is fixed only on one thing.
"She's… not really available right now," Dara stammers. "It's been a hectic week for us, and—"
"Don't lie," I cut her off, flat and cold.
Her smile stiffens. "She's inside now," she admits finally, her words clipped.
I walk past her, Ahmed trailing behind me, and head straight to the office. The door creaks slightly as I push it open.
There she is.
Ere, hunched over her laptop, typing furiously, her brows knitted in concentration.
"Hello, Ere," I say, my voice laced with sinful confidence.
Her head snaps up, her expression confused.
"Mr. A?" she breathes, standing abruptly.
The way she says it, Mr. A, it's like striking a match against gasoline. My ticking time bomb.
She's radiant in a dress almost the same shade as the flowers. Gold jewelry glints against her skin, and her braids, full and curled at the tips, frame her face like a crown.
I want to pull those braids.
"I didn't know you were coming," she says, her eyes darting to the massive bouquet Ahmed is holding.
"There's no way you could have known," I reply, stepping closer. "We don't share contacts."
As if on cue, Ahmed sets the bouquet down and slips out silently, closing the door behind him.
"I've missed you," I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. My voice cracks just slightly, softer than I intended.
Her expression is unreadable, and the silence that follows gnaws at me.
"So much," I add, slower this time, each word deliberate.
But she doesn't soften. Her face remains blank, her silence sharp enough to wound.
Finally, she speaks. "Who owns those flowers?"
"They're for you," I answer gently.
Her face shifts instantly, emotionless stone melting into something tender. Her eyes soften as she steps toward the bouquet, cradling it in her arms as though it were fragile glass.
"It's beautiful," she whispers. She inhales, then lets out a small laugh. "No wonder there was so much noise outside."
"I want you, Ere," I murmur, my voice deepening. "I want you hard. I'm starving for you."
Her eyes flicker up to me, steady, assessing. "Hmm Mr.A ? she starts.
"You can call me Aanoni" I reply
"You're young. Thirty? Thirty-one at most?"
I smirk, but her words dig deeper than I let on. "That's your concern? My age?"
"You're too young for me," she insists, folding her arms defensively. "I don't even know why we're having this conversation. You should be chasing girls your age, not—"
"Not what?" I step closer, my tone turning dangerous. "Not you?"
I tilt my head, a sly smile curving my lips.
"Oh, baby. You have no idea what I can do for you, and to you."
The air thickens between us, heat rising like a tide.
"I want you," I repeat, this time each syllable burning with intensity.
She exhales sharply, her lips parting. "I'm sorry, but I don't think this can work." She sinks back into her chair, her hands flying to her keyboard as though retreating behind her work.
For a brief second, something twists in my chest. But pride drowns it out.
"I decide if it works or not," I say, my voice low and firm.
I step forward, spin her chair around to face me, and lean down until our lips are a breath apart.
"And it will work," I whisper.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, betraying her calm facade.
"Ere," I murmur, letting my eyes drop to the swell of her breasts,
"it'll work so well you'll be terrified of how good it feels."
My finger trails lightly from the base of her throat down to the neckline of her dress, brushing against the curve of her breasts. I watch her closely, waiting for her to recoil.
But she doesn't.
She meets my gaze head-on, her stare unflinching, challenging me.
The air between us crackles, a storm held in the tight space of her office.
Then—
"Ma'am, the couple from—" Dara says, pushing the door open and witnessing our little moment.
"Dara you can come ——-"
Ere says, but falls on deaf ears, as Dara scurries away, as if witnessing a sin.
The click of the door shutting behind her echoes louder than it should, and suddenly, the room feels far too quiet.
Ere exhales slowly, willing her pulse to calm, and quickly gathers the scattered papers on her desk.
Her hands move faster than necessary, stacking documents, shifting files, anything to distract herself.
But her fingers betray her, trembling faintly as she presses them against the cool surface of the desk.
I don't move. I just stand, watching her.
The weight of my silence presses against her spine until she finally glances up. My smirk is faint, unreadable, but my eyes, dark, unblinking, pinning her in place.
"You're awfully composed for someone who almost gave herself away," I say quietly, stepping forward with unhurried grace.
Ere stiffens, clutching a pen like it's a shield.
"I wasn't giving anything away."
I chuckle softly, the sound low and amused.
"No? Then why are your hands shaking?"
"They're not." She sets the pen down too quickly, and it rolls across the desk.
Her jaw tightens as I pick it, twirl it between my fingers, then drop it deliberately in front of her.
I lean closer, close enough that my cologne, spiced wood, subtle and intoxicating, wraps around her senses.
"So that's how you treat someone who brings you flowers? By pretending they don't shake you?"
Her chest tightens. She forces a scoff, lifting her chin in defiance. "Don't flatter yourself. You don't affect me that way."
My eyes narrow, but my lips curve slowly, dangerously.
"Funny… your body tells me one thing, but your mouth is still fighting me."
Heat creeps into her cheeks. She pushes back from her chair, standing, creating space.
"You don't know me, Aanoni. You only know…"
She hesitates, then jabs a finger downward to her pussy, her voice sharp. "Her."
My brows lift, surprised, before a low laugh escapes him. I actually throw my head back, amused.
"Ah. So that's what you think?"
I step closer again, erasing the distance she tried to create, until she's backed against the edge of her desk.
My voice drops, a whisper meant only for her. "I'm not chasing her, Ere. I'm chasing you."
Her breath stutters, caught between disbelief and something more dangerous. She wants to shove me back, to end this, but her grip on the desk only tightens instead.
I notice.
My smirk deepens. "You'll break first," I murmur, my words a promise and a threat all at once.
"And I can wait."
For a long moment, our eyes lock. The tension hums in the air, thick and suffocating, until Ere finally forces herself to straighten her spine and meet his gaze head-on.
"Then you'll wait forever," she whispers, though the tremor in her voice betrays her.
I study her for a long moment, letting the silence stretch until it's almost unbearable.
Then, slowly, I slide my hand into my pocket and take out my phone. My thumb moves once across the screen.
"Ahmed," I say, not breaking eye contact with Ere, "bring the folder."
Her brows knit instantly. "Folder? Whatfolder?"
I smirk, enjoying the way suspicion clouds her face. "You'll find out."
She straightens, folding her arms across her chest. "You keep talking in riddles. What is it this time?"
I lean closer, my lips brushing the air just above hers.
"Terms,"
I murmur, soft but firm. "Rules. Agreements. You and I need… structure."
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, her composure wavers.
"Structure?" she repeats, scoffing faintly, though her voice is thinner than she wants it to be. "You're insane."
"Maybe." I grin, sinking into her chair's armrest as though I own it. "But you'll thank me for it."
I lean back casually, stretching one arm across the desk as if I've settled in for the night.
"And trust me, Ere… I'm not leaving until we talk about it."