FF: Web of Lies - COMPLETED on p80 - Page 23

I'm sorry for not updating my story this week or last week. I've had significant personal issues that have take up all of my time. I hope to be back on my writing schedule next week. Thank you for your continuing interest in my story.

Paly

Originally posted by: PalyGirl

<font size="3" face="Calibri">I'm sorry for not updating my story this week or last week. I've had significant personal issues that have take up all of my time. I hope to be back on my writing schedule next week. Thank you for your continuing interest in my story.</font>

<font size="3" face="Calibri">Paly</font>

Glad to hear from you

I understand ur problem

It's totally ok

Take our time

Hope you solve your issues fast

And keep smiling 😊

So happy to be reading another one of your fanfictions. Amazing descriptions in every chapter, so much so that I see the scene playing out in front of me. Malak gives me a seriously bad vibe, another testament to your amazing writing skills! 😃 Do forgive the late comment. I'm sorry to hear about your problems and sincerely hope everything is solved. Please take your time, we will always be eager to read your updates!

glad ur problem is solved...its okei...i knw whenevr u update...u come up wd a bang..so no problem dear

Waiting desperately for the next update.. 😳

CHAPTER SIX

Later that afternoon, Asad is back in his office. It's a mess with files stacked in haphazard piles on every surface and papers littering the floor. He tries to concentrate on the blueprints in front of him but his gaze keeps straying back to the disorder around him.

"Allah miya, what's wrong with me that my life has come to this?" He throws down his drafting pencil in disgust. "Great. Now I sound like Ms. Farooqui."

He looks to the conference room across from his office. The glass walls allow him to see into the large space. The board room is even more disorganized than his office. Papers are scattered about and upturned boxes spill files out onto every surface. The top of Zoya's head is barely visible over a mound of paperwork as she sorts papers into organized piles.

"Asad!"

He turns to see Dilshad hurry into his office. Her normally serene face is pulled tight and her mouth is pressed into a firm line.

"Ammi." Asad rises to greet his mother. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," she retorts. "What happened?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know what you mean."

"I came home from the orphanage to find a dozen messages from you to Zoya on the answering machine. Why were you asking where she was? What happened?"

Asad guides her into a chair. "Everything is fine now, Ammi. Ms. Farooqui is working in the conference room."

Dilshad's mouth remains tight. "I know Zoya is fine now. I called her as soon as I heard your messages. Asad, I was so worried! All I could think about was how bruised and hurt she was when you brought her back from Guspind."

Asad's mouth tightens. "Don't remind me," he mutters.

"What?" Dilshad raises her voice to compensate for his low tone. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, Ammi." Asad's voice returns to his normal level. "Ms. Farooqui and I had a communication problem so I called to find out where she was."

"A communication problem required you to call her ten times in half an hour?" Disbelief is sharp in Dilshad's tone. "Why? What happened, Asad?"

He remembers his calls. He'd been calm during his initial messages, not yet aware that Zoya had run away. "Ms. Farooqui, where are you? I'd like to speak with you." Then he'd been annoyed. "Ms. Farooqui, stop this nonsense. You're acting like a child. Please return my call."

By the fifth message, they'd searched the building from top to bottom. That's when he'd understood Zoya had left him. After that, each message had become increasingly more desperate until he'd gone from ordering her to call back to pleading with her to answer him. "Please, Zoya, just for one second, answer your phone! Let me know you're okay. That's all I'm asking. I need to know that you're not hurt or kidnapped. Please!"

He looks away. "I couldn't find her and she wasn't answering her cell phone. It annoyed me so I called more than I should have."

Dilshad shakes her head slowly. "No, Asad. That wasn't annoyance in your voice. It was worry and desperation and, for the last few messages, straight-out fear. Where was Zoya?"

He slumps back into his chair behind his desk. "She went out to lunch with Malak."

"And?"

Asad presses his lips together like a little boy, refusing to answer. Dilshad responds in kind. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at him.

"Do you want me to go across the hall and ask Zoya?" she threatens.

He sighs in defeat and tells his mother about the misplaced file. When he finishes, Asad stares down at his desktop, unable to meet his mother's eyes. Dilshad says nothing. Finally he looks up to see his mother deep in thought.

"Ammi, I know you're disappointed in my actions." He massages his eyebrows. "It's just that Ms. Farooqui is driving me crazy. Look at this mess! Everything is disorganized, everything is disrupted. Nothing is like it was or how it should be. I didn't ask her to do any of this. She just did it on her own, then assumed that I would fall on my knees in gratitude for it."

Dilshad remains quiet as she listens to his rant. Her eyes darken and the corners of her mouth droop. She waits until he finishes and shakes her head before she speaks.

"Asad, perhaps it's time for Zoya to leave," she suggests quietly.

"Wh...what?" He stares at her in open-mouthed shock. "Do...do you mean go home with you now?"

"No." Dilshad shakes her head. "Maybe it's time for her to leave here for good."

For good.

Dilshad's words burn in his brain like lit match sticks, igniting Asad's unspoken fears. He stills, his whole body burns hot as though he's running a fever. He remembers walking in on the breakfast conversation from the day after Malak's arrival.

"It has to be a hotel with very good security. Nothing else would be safe enough. That eliminates some of the locations I'd have to search."

"Zoya, you are not going to search hotels!" Dilshad raises her voice to be heard over them. "Stop that thought right now!"

Najma and Zoya had been tense while Ammi had spoken loudly, something she rarely did. Had she been upset because Zoya had already decided to move out of their -- her -- home? Ammi had been so adamant then, refusing to even listen to Zoya discussing hotels. What had changed? Why would Ammi even consider, let alone suggest, that Zoya leave them? Was it Malak's influence? Had he already convinced Zoya to move out?

A fine rage makes Asad's hands tremble. He grabs hold of the edge of his desk to hide the tremor. "No! We had a disagreement, that's all. I even apologized. We're fine now."

Dilshad continues to shake her head. "No, you're not. You're angry and you're frustrated and you're taking it out on Zoya. She doesn't deserve that. If you don't want her here, then tell her."

Asad stares at his mother, struggling to understand what she was saying. Zoya couldn't leave them. She couldn't take her silly quotes, her easy laughter and her boundless energy from their lives. He, Dilshad and Najma had been living in shadows before she'd come and dragged them into the sunshine. How could they ever go back to the darkness now that they'd basked in the light?

"I...I can't do that," he protests. "I don't...she won't...we can't..." He shuts his eyes and grits his teeth as words fail him.

"Asad, listen to yourself." Dilshad speaks gently, soothingly. "You're so wound up you can't even express your frustration. I know how much you need to be in control. I understand why you want things neat and orderly. It's your way of comforting yourself after all the worry and responsibility you took on when your Abbu left us."

Asad's jaw hardens and he looks down at his desk. His hands curl into tight fists. Dilshad leans forward and covers his hands with hers.

"Asad, those days are over. Thanks to you, we no longer struggle." She squeezes his fists. "You've earned the right to feel secure and in command of your own life."

She pauses and waits for him to respond. Asad glances up and nods but pulls his hands free.

"Ammi, what is the point of this conversation?"

"Asad, you find your comfort in control. That doesn't work for everyone. Zoya finds her comfort in other's people's smiles."

"What does she need comfort for?" he scoffs. "What are her problems, other than the ones she creates for herself? She blunders into and out of every day with no thought to the consequences of her actions."

Dilshad frowns. "Do you really believe that, Asad? Do you really think that Zoya doesn't care or that life is unimportant to her?"

Asad opens his mouth to respond. Suddenly he has a flashback to his first confrontation with Malak.

"Zoya lives to make other people happy and takes her happiness from theirs. Do you allow her to do that?"

"What are you talking about?" Asad demands. "Make sense!"

"I am making sense," Malak snarls. "You don't understand because you don't know Zoya. Her greatest fear in life is to be unwanted, to think she doesn't belong. She needs to make people happy. How can she do that when you constantly control her and insult her?"

Asad grits his teeth and turns his head aside. He sees the haphazard files around his desk and his mind jerks back to his earlier cruel accusation against Zoya.

"You want me to give you another chance to destroy my business?" Asad screams. "Are you trying to ruin me?"

"Of course not, Mr. Khan, I'm trying to help you."

He shuts his eyes but he can't block out Zoya's pain and hurt. She had turned her back on him in Malak's parking lot but he'd seen how close she'd been to tears.

"I had enough of you yelling at me and accusing me when all I tried to do was help you!"

He jerks back, Zoya's words striking him with the force of a physical blow. He'd been wrong to yell at her, hadn't even tried to make excuses for his actions to his staff and had nearly lost his mind when they couldn't find her.

He'd even paced outside of the women's washrooms while security searched them. His secretary had suggested Zoya might be hiding out in the only place where he wasn't allowed to follow her. But she hadn't been there. She'd gone to Malak, the man who wanted to take her away from them -- away from him.

He had sent her running into Malak's arms.

"Asad?"

Thankfully, Dilshad's voice brings him back. He wrenches free of the memories. Still, his eyes are wide and unfocused as he turns back to his mother.

"Ammi, you're making too much out of this." He takes a deep breath but his voice still quivers when he speaks. "Ms. Farooqui and I had a disagreement but we've resolved it. She is not leaving."

"But should she?" Dilshad persists. "If she makes you so miserable, if you make her so miserable, she should leave. Neither of you needs the stress of being unhappy."

His eyes widen. "She said that? She's unhappy?"

Dilshad looks at him sadly. "Of course she didn't say that. She's Zoya. When has she ever spoken about her pain or hurts? Everything she does is to try to make other people -- to make you -- happy. But what she does," Dilshad spreads out her hands, "doesn't work for you. Maybe it's time to let her go, Asad. Be at peace and go back to the way you were before."

"Before?" He repeats the word as if he doesn't understand the meaning of it.

"Before Zoya," Dilshad elaborates. "Everything was fine for you before Zoya. You can go back to where you were, do things the way you've always done things and feel comfortable again. If you don't want Zoya here, let her go."

Asad just stares at her, at a loss for words. Before Zoya, he'd been more dead than alive. He'd done what needed to be done, preformed his daily routine on a strict schedule and lived his life as if it was an obligation and not a gift. Then Zoya had arrived and breathed life back into him, the walking corpse slowly turning into a breathing, feeling man.

He recalls his desperation from earlier that day, his fear in Guspind, and the horror of Mangalpur, the times when Zoya hadn't been safely at his side. He'd been terrified, but he'd been alive, aware of his own heartbeat, of the fragility and importance of his own life, of Zoya's life like never before. How could he ever let her go? Could he still stay connected to life, would he still want to, if she wasn't there to keep him from sinking back into the despair of his childhood fears?

"No!" His voice is so low, it's almost a growl. Beads of sweat form on his temples and heat flushes his cheeks. "Ammi, stop this nonsense. Ms. Farooqui is not leaving and that's final."

Dilshad studies him for a long moment. "Does Zoya feel the same way?"

Asad blinks. "Woh, actually...I didn't think...she hasn't said..."

He trails off. Dilshad crosses her arms and shakes her head.

"You didn't even ask her, did you?" she chides. "She was her sweet, forgiving self and didn't object so you just assumed she was fine with it all. Are you sure she still wants to work here? You destroyed her project!"

Asad jerks his head to stare at his mother as he replays her words.

"Her project?" He runs his hand through his hair. "Wait. You were suggesting Ms. Farooqui leave my office? You're concerned about the stress it's causing us to work together?"

"Yes." Dilshad raises her eyebrows. "Asad, are you alright? Why are you repeating me? What did you think I meant?"

He massages his brows. "I...I, actually...woh, I mean..."

He trails off uncomfortably but Dilshad does not let him off so easily.

"Asad?" she prompts.

He sighs in defeat. "I...I thought you meant that I should ask Ms. Farooqui to move out of our house."

"What?" Dilshad's mouth drops open. "Why would you think that?"

He tugs on his tie as though it chokes him. "Yesterday, Ms. Farooqui was talking about hotels and you were upset. And...and Malak talks about her going places so I thought..."

"No! You came in the middle of our conversation. The hotel was another matter entirely. Zoya is my responsibility. She's not leaving our home and that's final, no discussion." Dilshad's voice is firm and decisive.

Asad ducks his head so his mother doesn't see the relief that suddenly clouds his vision. He blinks rapidly to clear his eyes. He breathes deeply, the conscious act of drawing in air helping to settle his erratic heartbeat.

"Of course Malak thinks the world of Zoya." Dilshad continues. "He's her friend and her former manager. He wouldn't have come halfway around the world to woo her if he didn't believe she was the best."

Asad's head jerks up. "Woo her?"

"Woo her, recruit her, whatever is the right phrase." Dilshad waves her hand to dismiss her word choices. "The point is that Malak wants Zoya. He caters to her. He bought a cappuccino machine, he stocks her favorite snacks, he got her approval on his office space and he agreed to every one of her contract conditions. You're upset if she leaves soda rings on your desktop."

Instinctively, Asad looks down at his desk. It's covered with papers but clean of rings or stains. A flush colors his cheeks and he looks sheepishly at his mother. Dilshad crosses her arms as she watches him.

"Asad, Zoya is a good girl. Everything she does, she does with the best intentions. She's doing this to help you, to make things better for you. She needs you to approve and appreciate her." Dilshad rises and leans over Asad's desk to look directly into his eyes. "Promise me you'll make an effort to meet her, if not half-way, at least somewhere on the path."

Asad nods. "I will, Ammi."

Dilshad cups his chin and makes him meet her gaze. "Promise?"

He nods again. "I promise."

"Okay." Dilshad smoothes down his hair and kisses his forehead.

Asad watches as she crosses the hallway to Zoya in the conference room. She bends down to talk to her for a moment. Dilshad smoothes down Zoya's hair and kisses her forehead, exactly as she'd done with Asad. She straightens and Zoya gets out of her seat.

Asad sucks in his breath as he watches Dilshad put her arm protectively around Zoya. The two women walk back to his office.

"Asad, I'm leaving now." Dilshad says.

Asad rises to go to her. Dilshad shakes her head so he sits back down. Zoya stiffens and turns away from him. Dilshad looks between them and sighs.

"Walk with me to the lift," she says to Zoya.

Zoya smiles and nods to Dilshad. Asad watches them leave, a building sense of pain and pressure in his chest. He rubs his sternum to try to ease the ache. It's not until Zoya comes back that he realizes that he's been holding his breath. He releases it with an audible huff.

Zoya glances at him and their gazes lock. Asad half-rises in his seat but Zoya breaks their eye contact to go back into the conference room. He jerks in reaction. She sits down and he can no longer see her over the mounds of paper.

Asad starts for the conference room but stops himself. He detours to his mini-fridge, opening it to reveal orderly rows of water bottles and vegetable snacks. Ignoring the healthy fare, he reaches into the back to the stash of Diet Coke cans.

He crosses to the conference room with long, determined strides. Even so, he hesitates in the doorway and knocks on the open doorframe. Zoya looks up then immediately looks back down. He shuts his eyes as he absorbs her silent dismissal.

"May I come in?" His voice is low and husky.

She shrugs, her shoulders stiff and unyielding. "It's your office. I can't stop you."

He studies her as he stops across the table from her. Her face is calm and composed, with no signs of the tears and hurt that had plagued her earlier. She still doesn't speak, taking care to shuffle the papers in front of her into a neat, precise pile.

Asad puts the icy-cold soda can down very deliberately between them. She glances at it but remains stiff and unresponsive. He pops the soda top, releasing a fume of sweet-scented carbonation. She turns her head fully to look at the can but doesn't reach for it. Her hurt and resentment throb between them like an emotional wall.

He opens his mouth but shuts it without speaking. She remains unyielding. He looks down at his hands and sees the healing cuts on his knuckles from the beatings in Guspind, the nails that had finally grown back after he'd clawed at the hard ground to dig up Zoya in Mangalpur and the scars left from the fight at the bus stop. His hands had been strong enough to reach her before. Surely they were strong enough to break through the tension between them now. He holds out the soda can to her.

She looks at the drink and her body stiffens. She's also studying his hand, seeing the reminders of what he'd endured to protect her. Hesitantly she reaches for the soda. His long fingers curl completely around the slim can. There is no way for her to take it without covering his fingers with her own. An electric shock passes from her, through the can and into him. Finally she looks up. Their gazes lock and time stands still.

Someone knocks on the doorframe and they jerk apart, dropping the soda. The can hits the glass tabletop with a metal clang, spilling liquid over the table, Zoya's neat piles and Zoya herself.

"Oh! My files!" There is a thread of desperation in Zoya's cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Prasad hurries over to the sideboard and grabs a box of tissues. "I cleared my throat and called out several times but..." he holds out the box, his cheeks flushed, "but you didn't hear me."

Asad takes a handful of tissues. "It was my fault. I was holding the soda."

"Soda?" Prasad stares at him. "Mr. Khan, you don't drink soda."

Both men look at Zoya who is trying to wipe off papers, ignoring the large stain soaking into her sunny yellow blouse. Asad moves to her side.

"How much more damage is this?" He blots at the papers too, unaware of the sharp annoyance in his tone.

Zoya throws her napkins on the table and steps back, hands on hips. "Mr. Khan, this is not my fault! Don't you dare blame me again. I won't allow it!"

Asad holds his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "I'm not blaming you. I'm just asking how much this has extended your timeline."

Zoya looks down at the papers then at the room as a whole. "I don't know. This is worse than when I started. At least there was some structure then."

Her voice cracks at the enormity of the challenge before her. She slumps her shoulders as she loses the angry defiance and even some of her natural exuberance.

Seeing her is like watching a balloon deflate. What are you doing to her?

Asad shudders visibly as Malak's words reverberate in his head. Malak had said that living at the Khan Villa -- living with him -- was draining the life out of Zoya. Was it true? Was he destroying the essence of Zoya? He'd tried to shield her and protect her but were his actions suffocating her instead?

Then Zoya squares her shoulders and her mouth firms into a stubborn line. "It doesn't matter. I'm still going to finish this project. Zoya Farooqui does not quit! Malak will just have to be patient a little longer."

Asad closes his eyes and sways, so relieved that he's light-headed for a few seconds. Malak was wrong. Zoya wasn't losing any of her vitality. Her spirit was so strong that she not only kept herself upbeat but brought a little more light, a little more living, into his life each and every day.

Prasad shifts and Asad's eyes snap open.

"Did you need something, Prasad?"

Prasad again shifts from one foot to the other. "Umm, Ms. Farooqui asked me to come in." He glances over to Zoya then looks quickly back at Asad. "Should I have cleared that with you, Mr. Khan?"

Zoya drops her head and crosses her arms as humiliated color floods her cheeks. Her hair falls forward to veil her face but Asad sees the tip of her nose turn red, as sure sign that Zoya is near tears.

"No, you don't need to clear any of Ms. Farooqui's requests with me." Asad says quietly. "She has full authority. Give her anything and everything she wants."

Zoya's head jerks up and stares at him, her lips slightly parted, shock warring with hope on her face. Prasad nods so enthusiastically he resembles a bobble-head doll.

"Yes, Mr. Khan. Ms. Farooqui has your full authority. I'll make sure the entire staff is aware of it." He turns to Zoya. "What was it that you needed, Ms. Farooqui?"

Zoya jerks from looking at Asad to focus on Prasad. "Umm...I wanted to ask about the presentation file from this morning."

Prasad looks uneasy and shifts his weight from leg to leg, almost as though he's rocking in place. Zoya looks at Asad again and stiffens, her shoulders hunching forward, arms tightening around herself, as though trying to shield against a harsh wind.

Asad crosses his arms behind his back. "We submitted our bid before the deadline." He holds Zoya's gaze. "After all, I had the finished presentation in my briefcase the whole time."

Zoya relaxes but her arms remain crossed. "I understand. But that was a current file, one that I scanned into the system this week. Why wasn't anyone able to retrieve it?"

"I looked for it, Ms. Farooqui, using key sequences just like you taught me," Prasad says. "I even manually checked the directory folder but it was empty."

"Wait, are you sure there was a directory folder?" Zoya's brows knit together.

Prasad nods again. "Yes, the folder was created two days ago but it was empty. That's why we searched for the paper files. We wouldn't have done that if the folder had the files we needed."

"Did you check the backup server?"

Prasad stares at her. "I don't know how to check the backup server."

Zoya shakes her head. "That doesn't make sense. My system automatically creates a directory folder when it recognizes a new key sequence."

Asad frowns. "What does that mean?"

"It means that a directory folder wouldn't exist unless the system found a file to store in that directory." She looks at them. "So what happened to the file that triggered the folder?"

Asad and Prasad look at her in blank confusion. They exchange glances then look back at her, still completely baffled.

"Umm...I don't know?" Prasad sounds uncertain.

Zoya shakes her head. "Never mind. I'll worry about that later. Now I have to focus on making some sense of this mess."

"Ms. Farooqui, may I assist you?" Prasad asks. "I finished my work for today so, unless Mr. Khan has something urgent for me, the rest of my afternoon is free."

He looks to Asad. Asad shakes his head to indicate that he has nothing pressing for Prasad. Prasad grins and turns back to Zoya.

"In fact, I was talking with some of the staff. Many of us have some free time. We may not understand your system but we can at least help you sort and file," he offers eagerly. "I think we can have your project back on track in just a few hours if we all help."

Zoya blinks. "Are you sure? It's tedious work."

Prasad nods, again resembling the bobble-head doll.

She bites into her lower lip. "Well, if I set up stations, we could all circulate which will help keep everyone alert," she says thoughtfully. "You know your customers better than I do."

"Exactly!" Prasad agrees. "It will be good opportunity for us to review files and become familiar with your system."

Zoya's natural enthusiasm returns full force. "The structure is still intact. We only need to verify file content and scan marks."

She continues but Asad tunes out her words to focus on her animated expression. A slight smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he watches their exchange. He recalls how Prasad and the secretaries had stared at him in wide-eyed horror when he'd screamed at Zoya, how eagerly they'd helped him search for her and how anxious they'd been when they couldn't find her.

Zoya hadn't just brought sunshine into his family's life. Her joy was strong enough to brighten his employees' lives, too.

"Do you agree with Ms. Farooqui's approach, Mr. Khan?" Prasad asks.

Asad blinks. He'd been so focused on watching Zoya that he'd hadn't even heard what she's said. Not that it mattered.

"Prasad, I already said that Ms. Farooqui doesn't have to clear anything with me." His voice is huskier than normal. "She's the expert. We'll do this her way."

"We?" Zoya repeats.

Asad nods. "I cleared my afternoon, too."

She stares at him. "You're going to sort and file paperwork with us?"

He shrugs. "If that's what you need me to do."

Zoya turns to Prasad. "Okay. Call in the troops."

"Right away, Ms. Farooqui." Prasad grins at her.

He hurries out of the conference room so quickly, he's practically running. Zoya smiles at his retreating figure and uncrosses her arms. The soda soaked into her blouse makes the material stick to her abdomen.

"Ms. Farooqui, you need to change your clothes." Asad gestures to the stain.

She looks down at herself and pulls the cotton fabric away from her body. "I can't, Mr. Khan. I don't have any other clothes. I didn't expect you to spill soda all over me."

"Ms. Farooqui, you cannot continue to wear that. Well-behaved ladies do not go around wearing stained blouses."

"Mr. Khan, what's more important? Do you want to lecture me on your beliefs for proper behavior or do you want to clean up your office?"

She puts her hands on her hips, causing the partly-transparent stain to stretch across her midsection and clearly outline the underside of her lacy bra. Asad has to drag his focus away from her. He looks at the disorder around him and then back to Zoya. He crosses his arms behind his back, hands tightly clenched.

"Even so, Ms. Farooqui ---"

"Mr. Khan, I've just called the entire staff in for a meeting. What do you suggest I do? Make everyone wait while I go home and change?" she demands. "You're undermining my authority again. This is your fault, not mine!"

Asad shuts his eyes as he gathers his patience. He opens them to see Zoya glaring at him. The stained blouse outlines her slim figure and anger flushes her cheeks with rosy color. The stubborn set of her jaw indicates that she's ready for a battle. He shuts his eyes again, sorting through his options.

"Fine." He nods. "It's my fault so I'll fix it."

"Good."

Zoya relaxes and drops her arms. Her chin lifts in defiant satisfaction. Asad sighs then unbuttons his suit jacket with quick, practiced motions.

"What are you doing?" She stares at him.

He ignores her to remove his jacket and throw it across the back of a chair. He unbuttons his vest just as quickly and also takes it off.

"Mr. Khan, what are you doing?' she demands again.

He yanks on his tie to loosen it. Soon it joins the pile of clothing on the back of the chair. He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"Mr. Khan!"

Seconds later, Asad removes his shirt and holds it out to Zoya. Her mouth drops open as she stares from the shirt to his naked chest to his face then back to the shirt. Her eyes go round and round, clearly mirroring the confusion in her brain.

"Mr. Khan?" Her voice is weak and whispery.

He takes her hand and drapes his shirt over her outstretched arm. "Go into my washroom and change your shirt."

Zoya curls her arm to bring his shirt, still warm from his body heat, closer. She continues to stare at him as he shrugs back into his vest and fastens the buttons.

"You're going to spend the rest of the day without a shirt?" she demands.

He put on his jacket. "Are you suggesting I go home and change? I'll work on the files in my office while you keep the staff in here. No one will notice me."

"You think so, huh?"

"Ms. Farooqui, will you please hurry up and change?" Asad cranes his neck to look down the hall. "Prasad and the rest of the staff will be back in a few moments."

"Okay. You're the boss." She shakes her head and walks out of the conference room.

"Sometimes I doubt that," he says, but too softly for her to hear.

He follows her back into his office. Zoya shuts herself into his washroom. Asad glances down at his watch then freezes when he hears a commotion. He turns to see Prasad, followed by all the secretaries and assistants, comes around the corner. They stop in their tracks when they see Asad in only his vest and jacket. His staff exchange startled glances amongst themselves.

Asad runs his hand through his hair and grits his teeth. Zoya comes out of the washroom, rolling up the arm of his shirt, and stops too. The employees look from Asad to Zoya then back to Asad. None of them speak.

Suddenly Zoya bursts into giggles. She slaps her hand over her mouth when Asad glares at her but her eyes continue to sparkle. Her amusement breaks his team's frozen reactions. The office staff also beings to grin and snicker. Asad stands very straight and smoothes down his jacket lapels.

He clears his throat. "Don't you have assignments to hand out, Ms. Farooqui?"

She nods and removes her hand slowly, as if unsure of her ability to stop laughing. "Mr. Khan, your tie is crooked."

Asad puts his hand to his bare neck before he realizes he's not wearing a tie. Everyone bursts into laughter except Asad. Zoya giggles so hard she has to lean against the glass wall for support. Asad shuts his eyes until the merriment subsides.

"The things I do for you, Ms. Farooqui," he mutters under his breath.

Zoya hears him. She raises her eyebrows. "And do you think that will end anytime soon, Mr. Khan?"

His eyes narrow slight but he shows no other reaction. Zoya smothers her grin and leads the staff into the conference room. Asad shuts his office door very gently and leans against it, grateful no one could see the fierce intensity of his emotions. The blood coursing through his veins throbs at his temples. This girl was going to be the death of him.

It would be a good way to go.

Chapter 7: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/89228151

I'm sorry it's been so long since I last posted. Life got in the way! Thank you to everyone who sent me such lovely and encouraging private messages during my absence. I'm so glad you were willing to wait so patiently for me to get past my personal issues.

Also, I want to thank everyone who has posted feedback. I don't normally reply because I don't want to stifle people's responses. Please know that I read each and every post and treasure them all. And for those of you who have written posts that are long enough to be their own chapters - wow! I am overwhelmed to know my story has had such an impact that you've taken so much time out of your day to post feedback.

Thank you again,

Paly

Yay, finally you updated! Now let me go back and read it!

awesome but boy asad looks obssesive