From contract to ishq - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

As Minahil stepped into Yaram Shah's office, two things happened at once. The secretary, Areesha, shut the door with a firm click, and Minahil's eyes met the man behind the desk. The door's sound trapped her inside as she registered the blistering scowl aimed her way. Her heart sank-Allah, yeh mujhe nikaal denge. Her face paled, and she froze mid-step, her dupatta slipping slightly from her shoulder.Yaram saw the fear hit her like a wave, just as a sharp jolt of desire struck him low. Yeh kya museebat hai, he cursed inwardly. He needed to keep this professional, not let his body derail his focus. His eyes roamed her frame, trying to pinpoint what kept unraveling him. She wasn't tall, barely reached his chest, not like the willowy women he usually met at Karachi's elite galas. Minahil was all curves-soft, full, with a figure that likely made her self-conscious. But to him? It was perfection. Her kameez hugged her form, hinting at the shape beneath, and his hands itched to grip her hips, to feel her softness against him. He'd imagined it too many times. Shaking off the thought, he focused on the panic in her eyes. "Sit." His voice came out rough, laced with the heat he couldn't suppress, and he winced as she flinched at the bark.
Minahil stumbled to the chair in front of his desk, collapsing into it. Her legs trembled so badly they barely held her. Clutching the armrests, she avoided his gaze, staring at the sleek fountain pen on his desk, willing her breathing to steady."Mein Yaram Shah hoon," he said, though it was unnecessary. The statement drained what little color remained in her face."J-ji, sir," she stammered, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
His face was stern, almost intimidating, save for those dark, liquid eyes that seemed to pull her in. Mid-thirties, tall, with broad shoulders filling out his shirt, he was striking. Minahil, tu kya kar rahi hai? she scolded herself. Tujhe nikaal ne wale hain aur tu uske kandhon ke baare mein soch rahi hai?His suit jacket lay tossed on a nearby sofa, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair. His scowl seemed permanent, and try as she might, Minahil's eyes dropped back to the desk."Aap ne ek private baat sun li hai, Miss Raheem," he said, his voice cutting through her. She nodded slightly. "Mujhe yeh batane ki zarurat nahi ke aap isse apne tak rakhogi?"Relief flooded her. This wasn't about her debts-it was about the break room conversation. "M-mein ne kisi ko nahi bataya. Na hi bataungi," she managed, her voice shaky but firm."Thanks." He picked up the pen, tapping it on the desk, his piercing gaze never leaving her.
After a long pause, he spoke again. "Everything you heard was right. Mujhe ek biwi ki zarurat hai."Minahil froze, knowing she had to respond. If she played this carefully, she could be back at her desk in minutes. "A-aap ko biwi ki kyn zarurat hai?" Relief made her bold, and that reckless streak flared. "Tired of living alone?"His expression didn't soften, and a chill ran through her.He watched her, unblinking, before speaking. "Mujhe biwi ki zarurat hai stability ke liye. Ek family man ki trha, taake log jo meri zindagi ke baahar se dekh rahe hain, woh mjhe tang na kren." His words were deliberate, then he softened his tone. "Aap ki nazar mei koi hai jo meri help kar sakta ?"Her pulse raced. Yaram Shah, needing help finding a wife? Impossible. Her mouth went dry, dread pooling in her stomach. Please, yeh wahan na jaye jahan mujhe lagta hai yeh ja raha hai.She tried to steady herself to escape this conversation. "N-nahi. Mein Karachi mein nayi hoon. Meri yahan abhi zyada dost nahi hain." She started to stand, desperate to leave. "I am sorry mei asp ki help nai kr skti---"
"Baitho." The command was sharp, slicing through her.She sat, her stomach knotting, nerves churning.He kept tapping the pen-tik, tik, tik-studying her. "Aap khud kyun nahi?" Tik, tik, tik. "Break room mein jo kaha, kya woh sach tha?" Tik, tik, tik. "Aap yeh 'job' ke liye apply karna chahti ho?"Minahil's eyes fluttered shut, her face paling as the familiar distress she felt under his gaze hit her tenfold.
She sat still, like a deer hiding from a hunter.His posture straightened, his tone businesslike. "Mujhe shaadi se zyada ek arrangement chahiye. Ek business partnership, agar tum chaho. Koi jo thodi der ke liye mujh se nikaah karne ko agree ho. Mein pyar ya forever wali khushi nahi dhoond raha. Bas ek shaadi ka dikhawa, aur mein iske liye khushi se paisa doonga."Panic bells rang in her head, her stomach twisting so tightly she felt dizzy. He was serious. Marry him? He was out of his mind. She cursed herself for her break room quip. If she'd kept quiet, she wouldn't be here. This job was her lifeline-without it, she'd be on the streets. She searched his eyes for a hidden agenda, trying to respond without offending him. "Thanks, l-lekin nahi. Mein n-nahi-""Koi boyfriend hai?"
His eyes narrowed, his mind already calculating how to eliminate any obstacle, his jaw tight."Nahi. B-bas yeh ke mein sach mein nahi sochti-""Toh koi cheez tumhein rok nahi rahi? Koi boyfriend nahi, aur tumhari family Lahore mein rehti hai, right? Unhein pata bhi nahi chalega. Woh yahan aksar aate hain?" He was relieved she wasn't jumping at the offer.
A greedy opportunist would complicate things, and Zain's legal team would lose it, no matter how he spun it. Minahil stiffened. He knew about her family. The question threw her. "Nahi, unke paas plane tickets ke liye zyada paisa nahi hai. A-aap ka mujhe sochna b-bohat acha tha, mujhe afsos hai agar meine uss din galat idea diya. Mein mazaak kar rahi thi, mujhe nahi laga ke aap serious hain." She paused, the silence deafening. "Mujhe laga yeh mazaak tha aur mein bas hans rahi thi."He studied her, unyielding."Tum par koi debt hai, Minahil?"Dread slithered down her spine. What did he know?"A-aap yeh kyun pooch rahe hain?""Tumhari umar ke bohat se logon par koi loan ya debt hota hai, paise ki zarurat hoti hai. I can help you on that. Mein yeh umeed nahi kar raha ke tum yeh ehsaan mujh par muft mein karo."She hesitated, then admitted softly, "Mere paas thoda sa debt hai."
Guilt washed over her for downplaying it, but she pressed on. "Lekin it's not r--right." Her voice stayed gentle, cautious.His eyes held hers, searching. "Dekho, humein iske baare mein aur privately baat karni hai. Yahan nahi ho sakta. Mein tumhein shaam saat baje pick kar lunga, hum dinner karenge aur yeh baat jari rakhenge."He glanced at his slim gold watch, pushing his chair back, signaling the meeting was over.
Minahil stood, her legs shaky. She didn't want to meet him tonight. "M-mein kisi se shaadi nahi karna chahti. Mein yeh nahi kar sakti-"He rounded the desk, closing the distance between them, and took her chin in his hand, dropping a bombshell. "5 million ka kya khayal hai? Kya yeh tumhara faisla badal sakta hai?"Minahil froze, stunned by his rough palm against her skin. Her heart stuttered, his nearness overwhelming.
His scent-masculine, heady-filled her senses, and her breath fractured as his thumb grazed her cheek. The amount-5 million-was staggering.He felt the electric pull between them, her soft skin like silk under his fingers. Her shock fueled his desire, and he upped the ante, extending his original plan. "Ek saal ke liye ek 5 million. Mujhe do saal chahiye, toh do lakh dollar."Minahil shook off the haze. 10 million could clear her debts. She could find a better job, use her degree. Listening wouldn't hurt, right? "Sirf dinner? Mein abhi kisi cheez ke liye agree nahi ho rahi." She pulled away, her movements jerky, and headed for the door. Pausing, she glanced back, her expression screaming she had no idea what she was stepping into.That night, Yaram had one goal: get her to agree. He wanted the nikaah done fast-maybe a quick ceremony at a trusted maulvi's office.
At seven, he pulled up outside an old, weathered house in Gulshan-e-Iqbal, where Minahil rented a small room from an elderly couple.She was waiting on the sidewalk, sliding into his car before he could open the door. Avoiding his eyes, she fumbled with her seatbelt. She'd chosen a simple shalwar kameez in deep maroon, paired with low heels, her dupatta draped modestly. Karachi's evening breeze carried a chill, and she was glad for the warmth of her outfit.Minahil had been rethinking this all day. Rethinking wasn't even the right word-Yaram had strong-armed her into this "dinner meeting." It wasn't a date. Her goal was to make him see sense and enjoy a rare, decent meal. Counting every rupee was exhausting, and a restaurant dinner was a luxury.
She just hoped her nerves wouldn't ruin her appetite.Clearing her throat, she tried to reason with him. "Shah sir-""Yaram. Mera naam Yaram hai.""Theek hai, Yaram." Her thoughts scattered as she glanced at him. His eyes were on the road, his profile rugged, hair slightly overgrown. For the first time, she saw what her coworkers gushed about. Without his intense gaze pinning her, she could study him-the sharp jaw, the dark beauty of his eyes softening his features.Silence stretched until he broke it. "Tum kya kehne wali thi, Minahil?"Her name on his lips sent a shiver through her, like warm chai on a cold night. She blinked, her earlier point lost. Glancing out the window, she noticed they were heading toward the coast.
"Hum Port Grand ja rahe hain?"Karachi's coastline was dotted with restaurants and cafes at Port Grand, a popular spot where the city's elite mingled. Minahil had been there once, loving the vibrant energy, the sea breeze, the mix of desi and global vibes."Yes, is it alright?" His voice was deep, controlled, his Karachiite accent resonating through her."Hmmm." She stared at the night sky, a strange sense of calm washing over her, like the safety she felt during Karachi's rare monsoon rains, curled up in her old room in Lahore. It was comforting, probably just the car's enclosed space reminding her of home. She didn't dwell on it.They drove past Port Grand's bustling restaurants, Yaram never slowing. Her calm turned to unease as he pressed a button, and a heavy iron gate creaked open.
He pulled into a long driveway, stopping in front of a sprawling, modern bungalow that could pass for a boutique hotel. But it was too quiet, too private. Dread crept in.She turned to him as he parked. "Hum kahan hain?"He pulled the keys from the ignition, opening his door. "Mere ghar." He stepped out, circling to her side, while Minahil sat frozen, her heart pounding.