Ishq | (complete)

08| khamosh

husn yuuñ ishq se nārāz hai abphuul ḳhushbū se ḳhafā ho jaise 

He snarled at her, seeing bloody red at the photo she held between her fingers. How dare she? How motherfucking dare she? His harsh words landed across the office like a lash as the frame fell from her hand and clattered on the desk.

"I-"

"Do you have any fucking idea what privacy is? Or you fucking enjoy overstepping your boundaries." He stalked across the office, standing opposite from her, snatching the blueprints from her hand. "Who the fuck do you think you are to snoop through my private things? Do you have any idea how unprofessional this?" 

His heart pounded against the cage of his ribs as he saw the photo in peripheral. The photo he had not glanced at in years. His mouth turned dry as he licked his lips. He balled his trembling hands. Every cell in his body struggling to stay strong. He trained his heated gaze on his assistant who opened this can of worms. 

"Stay the fuck away from personal life or I will burn this fucking company down just to get rid of you." He hissed at her, leaning forward. But Prude stayed still, holding her ground. Her hands crossed she stared back at him with deadly calm, yet there was a livid storm in her eyes that resembled the flaring core of the sun, threatening to burn him.

"Are you done?" Her words left her lips in the softest of tone, but they were more deadly than his thundering voice. It was the steel gaze that she stared back at him with. That moment he knew she wasn't the woman to cower down. "You need to learn to hear the other person before you lecture them on unprofessionalism." 

"You-" She held up her hand, he closed his mouth, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Very high of the person to talk about Professionalism who himself exudes unprofessionalism." Her jaw tightened, her eyes turned a shade darker. "I was collecting papers from all over the office from all the cabinets and desks. Mujhe uper se elhaam nahi aana tha ke yahan private aur personal cheezein hai. I just flipped the photo to see what it was that's all." 

She stepped around the table crossing the distance between them. Her black worn pumps merely a foot away from his custom made black loafers. The height of her heels put her at his eye level. The kohl in her eyes holding back that raging storm. She held her head high, her jaw tightened.

"And don't ever question my professionalism. I go above and beyond to do my job here. I'm an assistant here. I don't own this business, but on your behalf, Zain has to attend meetings. I have to take notes like a damn college students so you get to know what's going on. I have to handle the media. All you do is sit all day here and obsess over hospital project." He inhaled sharply, clamping his teeth trying to not blast at her, but she wasn't done. "And you are talking about your personal life and boundaries? I have to clean up after you, find restaurants for your lunch and dinner dates. Clear your bills for bars and clubs. Get insulted because you can't handle your one night stands, delivering alcohol and gifts to them. Your brother and I are babysitting and cleaning up after you. Before lecturing me, learn to draw a line between personal and professional life. " 

He looked away, staring out the window to the sprawled city of Islamabad where the sun was leaving behind the darkness as it found its way home behind the horizon. She had put a mirror in front of him, the mirror he refused to look in to. Her eyes and low voice were reeking of the fact that if Zain wasn't here, he would have lost every damn thing.

"You want to talk about professionalism." She quietly said, as jabbed a finger in the lapel of his black suit. He looked into her wild eyes. "I will show you professionalism." She threw the old blueprints on his desk on that photo and walked around him, leaving him in the dust.