Brutal yet severely charming man Shahmeer Jafri. The owner of a chain of the best luxury hotels in the world.
The definition of perfection in a human. Sweet mouthed and loyal girl Mahnoor Ali had the life of normal 27 year old. Or so she thought...
The evening is set, the air thick with the promise of celebration. Tonight marks a milestone—the official completion of our Italy hotel branch. Investors, executives, the entire team that made this vision a reality—all gathered under one roof. It's a night of significance, a night of triumph. But none of it seems to matter the second she steps into the room.
Mahnoor descends the staircase like she owns the very air she walks through. My breath stalls, and for a moment, everything else fades—just her, and this moment, carved into my memory like something sacred. The soft pink of her gown clings to her frame with an elegance that defies explanation, beads catching the light like scattered stars. Her hair cascades down her back in waves I ache to run my fingers through, and her eyes—God, her eyes. They hold the kind of depth that could drown a man, and willingly, I'd go under. There's a quiet grace in the way she moves, an unspoken poetry in her every step. And then she smiles. My downfall, my undoing—wrapped in satin and moonlight.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I don't even realize I've been staring until she glances down at her wrist, a small frown tugging at her lips. "I forgot my bracelet," she murmurs.
I shake off the trance she's put me under and smirk. "I'll get it. You're wearing heels—preserve your energy."
She laughs, that soft, melodic sound I'd bottle up if I could. "Shahmeer, it's just upstairs."
"Exactly." I wink. "Two flights of stairs is too much of a struggle for my princess."
She rolls her eyes but grins as I turn on my heel and make my way upstairs.
The room is dimly lit, a quiet contrast to the lively atmosphere downstairs. I stride over to the vanity, easily spotting the diamond bracelet resting inside the drawer. But as I reach for it, my fingers brush against something else. Something unexpected.
A folded piece of paper attached to a box.
Curiosity prickles at the back of my neck as I pick it up, my pulse slowing, thickening. There's something about it—something that tells me this isn't just a misplaced receipt or a scribbled note. It's heavier than that. It feels personal.
And then, I unfold it.
My breath stills.
The words stare back at me, each letter a quiet whisper of something I never saw coming.
