LET ME HATE YOU

Mrs Amaan Hashmi

Assuming Amaan would believe Samuel's story, Asmaira whispered, "I swear on Raina."

No matter how much he hated her, in that moment, Amaan forgot his revenge and his vow to make her life miserable. A powerful urge to protect the innocent woman took over. He held out his hand to Talia, "My jacket."

Talia, stunned by the scene, was jolted out of her thoughts. She immediately handed the jacket to him, wondering what had transpired in her short absence. They had only been gone for a few minutes, and already something dramatic had occurred.

Covering Asmaira, Amaan glared at Samuel but instructed Talia, "Take her inside."

When Asmaira's grip tightened, he looked down at her. Her brown eyes were wide with fear, and her parted lips were moving, though she seemed to have lost her voice. She craned her neck to look at him pleadingly, swallowing hard. Cupping her jaw, he wiped her tears with his thumb, forcing himself to remain composed, and murmured, "Go."

As soon as the sound of the door closing echoed, Amaan shoved his clenched hands into the pockets of his trousers and walked to Talia's desk. "So, you are saying Asmaira seduced you?"

"Amaan, I understand how this looks. With her torn clothes and crying face, I won't blame you for believing your assistant. I was being polite to her because she is an employee here, and I want to maintain a good working relationship with Hashmi Enterprises. Why would I jeopardize that opportunity when I could have any woman?"

When Samuel finished, Amaan was quick to interject, "Except her."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, you saw how she smiled at me at the meeting the other day. She asked me for coffee and even gave me her number in case I needed help with the project. I thought she was friendly and naively followed her into your cabin," Samuel continued with his fabricated story.

"That's a company-provided phone," Amaan noted, searching for something on Talia's desk, while Samuel chose to ignore the trivial detail.

"And she pounced on you when you were alone. Is that right?" Amaan interrogated, his eyes glinting at an object on the desk.

"Yes."

"And when you refused, she tore her own dress?" he asked, turning to face Samuel.

"I did slap her for biting me when I was pushing her away," he replied, maintaining unwavering eye contact.

A liar will not hold a gaze, his uncle had once told him, and ever since, that advice had helped him perfect his lying in any situation.

"She has a habit," Amaan chuckled, shaking his head as a memory flashed through his mind. He raised his eyes and began walking toward Samuel, who maintained eye contact with the steady conviction of a professional liar.

"If we are done, can we please attend the meeting? It's really imp—" Amaan cut him off, "No need for that."

"Why?"

"Let me tell you something," Amaan said, stopping right in front of Samuel.

His smile twisted into a snarl, "Asmaira would rather skin herself alive than throw herself at a man."

Samuel opened his mouth to speak, but Amaan looked down and added, "And your zipper is undone."

Astounded, Samuel looked down, only to be met with a vicious kick to his groin. He crumpled to his knees, gasping and clutching his throbbing testicles. Amaan sent a message from his phone, tossed it onto the desk, and then yanked Samuel's hair.