Behind Daji stood Aafia Bibi, his sister, who had returned to her parental home with her two sons after a short and unhappy marriage due to her ill-tempered nature and sharp tongue.
Seeing her there, Aahil felt a wave of displeasure.
As soon as she arrived, Aahil stood up out of respect.
"Sit down."
Daji gestured for him to take his seat again as he himself sat down. Aafia Bibi also made herself comfortable on the sofa beside them.
Aahil was well aware of her nature—she had a habit of twisting words and stirring trouble. He was also certain that she must have said something to Daji that caused him to become so distrustful of Aahil.
"What brings you here, young man?" Daji's tone was cold and distant.
"I have spoken to Ijaan. She has agreed to the wedding arrangements," Aahil stated plainly, ignoring the detached tone in Daji's voice and getting straight to the point.
Daji looked slightly surprised by his words, but before he could respond, Aafia Bibi interjected.
"Did she really? That woman is ready to swallow the bitter pill so easily?" she scoffed, unable to believe that Rukhsar Begum had agreed so soon. She had been expecting divorce papers instead.
Daji didn't like her tone, but his question remained the same.
"You can settle the remaining matters with her yourself," Aahil said curtly, refusing to engage in Aafia Bibi's provocations.
Being ignored infuriated her. Just as she was about to hurl another sharp remark, Daji spoke.
"Hmm… fine, you may go. But you do remember our conditions, don't you? You'll have to live in this haveli with us."
He crossed one leg over the other, his demeanor as firm and commanding as ever.
"Yes, Daji. I remember them well," Aahil emphasized each word with controlled intensity.
Aafia Bibi sat in stunned silence, trying to make sense of their conversation. The fact that she was being ignored bothered her greatly.
After taking Daji's permission, Aahil left to meet Bibi Jan and the rest of the family.
---
"Sir, why are we here?"
Ema looked at John with confusion as he stopped the car in front of a shopping mall.
Without responding, John stepped out of the car and gestured for her to follow him before heading inside.
Left with no choice, Ema hurriedly got out and followed him.
"Sir, won't we be late for the party?" she asked, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.
"No," he replied simply.
Ema was nearly out of breath trying to match his speed when she suddenly felt a strong yet gentle grip on her hand.
Startled, she looked up to see John holding her hand as he led her into a store specializing in ladies' shoes.
She followed him in a daze, her heart beating wildly, so much so that she felt as if everyone around could hear it.
It wasn't as if she had never held a man's hand before, but the sensation she felt from John's touch was something entirely new.
John had her sit down while he began selecting sandals, whereas Ema was still lost in the overwhelming feeling his touch had evoked.
Her heart longed for him to hold her hand again and never let go.
(Stop it, Ema. He's your boss! You and him? Ridiculous!) she scolded herself, forcing her mind back to reality as she focused on John, who was now asking for her shoe size.
A salesboy stood nearby, smiling broadly at Ema, making her self-conscious.
She wondered if there was something odd about her outfit, making him laugh.
"Try these on," John instructed, gesturing toward an elegant pair of black heels the salesboy held.
"But I've never worn heels before," Ema's eyes widened in horror at the thought.
She could already picture herself stumbling around like a fool in those shoes.
"Do as I say," John ordered firmly.
With a sulky expression, she reluctantly obeyed.
"Ma'am, do you need help?" The salesboy politely offered assistance as he placed the heels near her feet.
"She has hands," John cut in coldly before Ema could respond.
The salesboy instantly backed away, avoiding further interaction.
"Perfect. Now walk," John instructed after she had put them on.
The heels looked beautiful on her feet, but walking in them was an entirely different challenge.
Ema hesitantly stood up and took a few steps before immediately regretting it.
The tiled floor made her footing unsteady, and she felt herself slipping with every step.
"I'm going to fall in these!" she exclaimed, sitting back down with a distressed expression as John paid for the shoes.
"You won't fall."
John took her hand again, helping her stand beside him.
"I will fall! I just know it!" she protested, nearly slipping a second time. Had John not held her hand, she would have actually fallen.
"I'm here," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
The two of them now looked like a romantic couple walking together.
Ema's heart pounded at an alarming speed, whereas John, with his usual composed expression, seemed unaffected.
She didn't argue further. For some reason, she truly believed that as long as John was holding her, she wouldn't fall.
---
The party had already started.
The venue was set up in the villa's grand lawn, with a poolside deck, a dance floor, and separate areas for seating and dining. The soft music and elegant decorations created a sophisticated ambiance.
Derrick had arrived a while ago, but neither John nor Ema were anywhere to be seen. Surprisingly, he had behaved himself so far, not causing any trouble.
"Man, I don't even have a dance partner. Not even Ema—otherwise, I would've taken her," Derrick thought to himself, bored.
Just then, his gaze landed on a woman standing alone with her back to him.
She had neatly styled golden-blonde hair, cropped short to her neck, and appeared to be holding a drink.
"Wow. Why didn't I notice her before?"
Fixing his grey blazer, he grabbed two glasses from a passing waiter and confidently approached her.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat to get her attention.
The woman turned around, and the moment their eyes met, her face twisted with irritation.
"You!"
Seeing her, Derrick discreetly handed the glasses back to the waiter, then glanced at what she was holding—it was a phone, not a drink.
Good. That meant she was sober.
"Yes, me. You remember my name, don't you? Dear Olivia."
If she was furious at the sight of him, Derrick, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest with a disdainful look.
"I heard there was a monster at this party with snakes on her head. Have you seen her?" he teased, referencing their last encounter.
Her fists clenched in anger.
How could she forget that day? She had spent hours staring at herself in the mirror afterward, wondering if her hair really looked like that. That remark was precisely why she had cut it short!
And now, he was at it again!
"Yeah, I see him standing right in front of me. Only, he doesn't just have snakes on his head—he has them on his tongue, his nose, his eyes… everywhere!" she snapped back.
"Hahahaha!" Derrick burst out laughing.
Olivia watched him in disgust, wishing she could shove an actual snake into his mouth.
"What's going on here?"
John's serious voice interrupted them.
Both turned toward him.
"Oh my God! Is that Miss Psycho?" Derrick exclaimed excitedly upon seeing Ema standing nervously beside John.
"Derrick, what did you say to Miss Olivia?"
John ignored Derrick's outburst, focusing on Olivia's irritated expression instead.
"I was just complimenting her," Derrick replied nonchalantly.
John knew exactly what kind of 'compliments' Derrick gave.
"Derrick, this is the new model I told you about," John gritted out.
"You mean she is my modeling partner? Yes!" Derrick's green eyes sparkled.
"No way am I working with him!"
"The agreement has been signed... You can't refuse now," Jan interrupted her.
"Okay, forget all that. Just tell me, how did you turn that boy into a girl?" Derek asked, as usual, with his odd questions.
"Derek, considering how easily boys in your office transform into girls, you should know all about it," Emma responded, irritated by his repeated remarks.
She already felt weird in heels and a dress, and now Derek was making it worse.
"You guys keep talking; I'll be right back," Jan said as he walked towards Mr. Jafar and Shazia Begum.
"You're the same one who cleaned him up at the hotel that day, right?" Emma pointed at Derek and curiously looked at Olivia.
Derek pursed his lips.
"Yes... I was just thinking, if it had been acid instead of wine, she would have thrown that too."
"Hahahahahahahaha!" Emma burst out laughing at Olivia's sarcastic remark.
"Wow, so you two are the legendary figures who had the honor of throwing something at me during our first meeting! One threw coffee—thankfully, it was cold, or my handsome face would have been ruined. And the other? Well, she threw an entire bottle of wine in installments! And instead of thanking me, both of you are laughing at me. What a time to be alive!"
Derek dramatically waved his hands like an offended woman, giving a full speech.
Both Olivia and Emma stared at his antics in surprise before bursting into laughter.
"Whatever you say… but he has a good heart," Emma whispered to Olivia, who only made a face in response—clearly disagreeing.
"Ahh, finally, someone who understands me! That's why I like you. But dear, if you're going to compliment me, do it properly!" Derek swayed dramatically as he spoke.
As if anything could ever be hidden from Derek!
Just then, Mr. Jafar's voice echoed through the microphone.
"I need everyone's attention, please."
The crowd fell silent and turned toward him.
"Thank you all for joining us this evening. This party is to celebrate two things. First, the successful deal my son Jan has secured with Black Star Group of Industries. And second, the fact that my other son, Hanan Jafar, will be officially joining our company from now on."
He proudly placed a hand on Hanan's shoulder, pulling him close. On the other side, Jan stood with a bored expression.
As the evening continued, guests enjoyed refreshments. Derek had mysteriously disappeared, and Olivia left shortly after Jan.
That left Emma, who had just discovered something shocking—her friend Hanan was actually her boss's brother!
"Emma…!!!"
She was sitting in a corner, avoiding unnecessary movement, when a familiar voice made her look up. Hanan stood before her.
"Oh my God! You look completely different—I could hardly recognize you!"
"Jan sir... he's your???"
As soon as she asked, the warmth on Hanan's face faded, replaced by visible displeasure.
"He's my brother... my stepbrother," he said quietly, lowering his gaze. His voice was controlled, but if he had looked Emma in the eye, she would have seen the bitterness that surfaced at Jan's mention.
"So that means my boss is your brother. Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Emma, oblivious to his discomfort, asked in a surprised tone.
"You… work at Jan's office???"
For Hanan, this revelation was shocking.
"Yes, sir."
Before Emma could finish her sentence, Shazia appeared.
"Oh, honey darling, there you are! Come with me—I need to introduce you to someone," she said, completely ignoring Emma as she pulled Hanan away.
Emma felt as if she had deliberately separated Hanan from her.
Sighing, she decided to leave as well.
"I should probably get going too."
She stood up, intending to inform Jan first.
After searching for a while, she finally spotted him standing a short distance away. One hand was casually in his pant pocket, while the other held a glass. He was listening attentively to a man in front of him.
If he even glanced up, his gaze would land directly on her.
"Black Beauty..."
Just as Emma was about to approach him, someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
A man—probably in his early thirties—with black eyes, a black watch, black shoes, black hair... Everything about him was wrapped in black, making his already striking appearance even more intimidating.
Emma felt an eerie discomfort standing so close to him.
"What's your good name?" He asked, staring directly into her eyes.
"E-Emma..." She barely managed to stutter her name.
"So, Emma... My name is Dylan."
She didn't respond, only forced a small smile and tried to step aside.
But once again, he blocked her path.
"So, Emma… Would you like to dance with me?"
Emma, who already wanted nothing more than to disappear from his sight, was completely thrown off by the dance invitation.
"Elle est à moi, M. Dylan."
Before she could answer, Jan appeared beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and speaking in an icy tone.
Emma didn't understand what he said—except that the man's name was Dylan. He had spoken in a different language.
Dylan smiled and stepped aside, allowing them to pass. But his smile never reached his eyes. There was something unsettling about him—something dangerous.
Jan led her to the dance floor, where other couples were engaged in a light, graceful waltz.
Placing his hands firmly on her delicate waist, he pulled her close in one swift motion.
Had Emma not placed her hands against his chest in time, she would have crashed right into him.
Jan adjusted her stance—one of her hands on his shoulder, the other in his grasp—as he slowly began moving with her.
"What was he saying?" Jan asked, his voice low and burning with intensity as he locked eyes with her.
"Nothing important."
Emma tried to brush it off, but Jan's grip on her hand suddenly tightened.
So much so that she winced in pain.
"I asked you a question," his voice was dangerously cold.
"He just asked my name... and invited me to dance."
Emma was starting to feel scared of him.
Jan's hold on her became even stronger, the pressure making her eyes sting with unshed tears.
"Sir, please..."
Her choked whisper finally snapped him out of it.
He let go of her abruptly and stormed away.
The force of his sudden movement nearly made her lose her balance, but she managed to steady herself just in time.
To be continued...