𝔇𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔨: 𝔐𝔞𝔫𝔢 𝔄𝔡 𝔙𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔲𝔪
A man to save, a dynasty to break and a love to die for.
Come dive into a modern and desi retelling of a beloved classic, Beauty and the Beast, part two of 'The Legacy Duet', Taimoor's story.
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𝕴 looked at Taimoor Ali Haider Mughal, expecting to see him lunge for me and throttle me, but he was just sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring daggers at me.
The man gave the term resting bitch face a whole new meaning.
I stared back, holding my ground and his indifferent gaze, but I wasn't going to kiss his uppity butt. I didn't like being disrespected and spoken down to and liked being threatened even less. Had he simply answered my question and told me where my father was, I would have been out of his office, pronto. I had no idea what he wanted from me or why he was toying with me. The tension rose to the ceiling as the three of us stood in silence.
Finally, the beast broke the awful silence, "You need to understand that your father has made some questionable choices."
"What I need is for you to stop speaking in riddles," his brows, thick and black, lifted. "Even if my father has made 'questionable choices'," his eyes narrowed at my air quotes, "You can not just sequester him away and not have him go home."
"Affandi, leave."
"I want to hear this out, why—"
"Out."
Without another word, Affandi slithered out the door, closing it with a resounding thud, and I huffed in exasperation. Figured. This man had everyone running for their lives. Even his friends. No wonder his PA had been stressed out, seemingly seconds away from pulling his own hair.
"Not that it's any of my business, but that was extremely rude."
"You're right," I stared at him surprised. "It's not your business."
"Great, now that we're all pleasant and accommodating, can you please get to the point?"
His mouth curved up ever so slightly, his eyes sparkling with interest. He leaned back against the leather chair, spreading his hands flat against the tabletop, and examined me the way a scientist might examine a germ under a microscope. It was horrible, but I gave no outward indication of how much it rattled me. Staring into his eyes was like being physically attacked. "Your father has been going around the city asking for a loan."
"That's impossible. A loan for what exactly? He has his company, he doesn't need outside investors."
"He has a small enterprise. Not a company and he absolutely needs outside investors. No one would support his crazy ideas."
"My father is not crazy! He is a-"
"Genius. Yes, I'm aware. So is my father. There was a reason for his employment all those years ago," I stared at him. "Also, if you'll stop interrupting."
