Aryan's Lethal Obsession

Aryan

"Two more investors have pulled out of Hammad's project."

What Ahaad said was musical to my ears. I leaned back in my chair, smirking.

"He shouldn't have gone ahead with his prostitution business after I had warned him. Naive of him to think I won't find out in the name of a resort chain he was going to run an underground whore house," I stated.

"Any update about the girls trafficked so far to his whorehouse?" I asked Jahazeb.

I have called Ahaad, Jahanzeb, Osama, and Tareq to my hotel office to plan the next move.

"More than fifty girls ranging between the age of 15-18 have been brought in. They were all abducted from their native place while fifteen more aged 20 to 22 have been brought in with the fake promise of job and security," the moment he said, I couldn't help raise my brow at the accuracy of the information.

"Who is the source of your information?" when I asked, he stammered, "w-woman, I mean a w-whore I called once. No one familiar that you need to know about."

I never asked him if his source was familiar to me.

"What I meant was the authenticity of the information. What are you hiding?" I asked him.

"Nothing, Boss. You always told us whore, and pimps can easily be bought with money. I was j-just following that. She...I mean, my source is just a wh... I mean desperate for money."

I didn't miss how he looked like someone had slapped him when saying the word whore.

"Boss, I heard you appointed Tareq for your wife's security," the ever so impatient Osama asked. I'm surprised he could hold on that long before blurting what was bothering him.

"Yes," I stood up and lit my cigarette.

Staring at my new bride, looking fuckable in the blue saree with those henna-clad palms and not able to feast on her, was another level of pain in the ass, other than Osama. The moment I stepped into my office, I had to touch myself, imagining eating her virgin pussy, still dressed in the fucking saree, and I came within a minute like a teenager. Whenever I recollect those trembling lips, my cock hardens.

"But I was taking care of it when we were on the island," he whined, and there goes my hard-on, limp, hearing his voice.

"Stay a mile away from my wife, and if you don't, I'm not sure you would be alive to see the next day," I stated.

She was still in a delicate state of mind, and with Osama being Osama around her, I was not confident that she would ever dare to leave the room. I have seen how Tareq treated her with gentleness, which is what she needs now. That I can't provide, nor Osama—the brightest bulb to read the room—could.

Lylah and Hunter were temporary measures before I could assign Tareq to follow my wife like a shadow and, if necessary, be a great listener to her misery. He was more human among us, and with me barring Amma from approaching Adah, Tareq came in handy.

Before Osama could crib like a bitch, I let out a huff of the smoke and asked Ahaad, "Any updates from Sahil?"

"He had to lay low for some time. Hammad has been paranoid since your marriage," Ahaad replied, still giving me a disapproving look.

"Why not end his motherfucking reign by showing Sir his confession video?" the smartest bulb Osama asked, and I swear I saw Ahaad's jaw twitching.

"Because RedWa had infiltrated the gang this time, and we can't reveal anything to Sir about his son unless we catch the mole. We don't know how many in the gang are working with them now, and there is already an internal war happening to seize the reign of the Pathan gang," he answered, sparing us all the effort to repeat what had been discussed already.