Obsession

Every woman can bear a child, but not every woman can be a mother.

Every woman is alike. They only know how to betray and backstab.

And if you love and trust a woman, you surely are doomed.

These were his views regarding women: a sexist who didn't trust womankind and despised them from the core of his heart. He didn't believe in love. Love was just like a fairytale to him—a fairytale he didn't believe in.

He was Shehryaar Haider Syed.

Over the years, his beliefs grew stronger and stronger. He was adamant about what he believed in. Every woman who came into his life reinforced his beliefs. He was sure what he believed in was nothing but the truth. He saw women as objects and nothing else. He thought no woman existed in this world who could change his views about her kind.

Until he met her.

The fire met with fire, and neither could extinguish the other.

...

"You have to sign this contract, Sheharzaad," he declared, sitting proudly in front of her while she struggled against the ropes that tightly bound her.

"You and your contract can both go to hell. I'll never agree to this!" she spat venomously. Her disheveled state, with messy hair showing how many times he had roughly gripped it, her slightly split lip indicating his harsh slaps whenever she disrespected him, and her croaky yet confident voice revealing her bone-crushing sobs and wails when she was alone in this warehouse.

"My Sheharzaad," he said pensively, his eyes fixed on hers.

A fire of fear erupted in her heart when her name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, signaling that his sadistic mind was up to something.

He stood up and moved towards her, causing her to turn her head away, manifesting her disdain for him. Reaching her, he roughly pulled her head back and dug his fingers into her cheeks, making her lips pucker. He moved closer and closer until his face was parallel to hers.

Then his features morphed, unlocking the real demon inside him, causing her heart to beat erratically as her strong façade began to crumble.

His eyes showed a glint of anger.

While hers tried to express calmness and fearlessness.

A lethal combination of grey against grey.

"It's entirely up to you if you don't want to agree," he smirked evilly, enough for her to know he was up to no good.

Grabbing her hair at the nape of her neck, he placed his knee between her legs and moved his lips closer to her ear.

"But I'll kill that friend of yours," he whispered, and a lone tear escaped her eye.

"I won't be your mistress," she managed to whisper.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Sheharzaad screamed as soon as she ended the call, jumping up and down before running toward her friend's room.

She opened the door and barged in, smiling brightly, her grey eyes sparkling with happiness.

"What happened, Shehar?" her friend asked, lying on the bed.

Amna was getting paler day by day, the dark circles under her eyes becoming more and more prominent, and her cheekbones protruding.

"Amna! Amna! I've been selected for the interview!" she announced wholeheartedly.

"Really?!" Amna's lifeless eyes immediately twinkled, and a small smile adorned her features.

"Yes! Really!" Sheharzaad squealed with joy, jumping up and down with excitement.

Her wild and carefree nature was only revealed to those close to her, which only included her closest friend, Amna.

"From where and what will be your job, Shehar?" Amna asked, trying to sit up. Sheharzaad helped her and sat beside her.

"They have called me for an interview at Syed Enterprises. Remember I applied for the vacant post of assistant to the CEO?" she said excitedly.

"Syed Enterprises?" Amna asked with widened eyes. She couldn't believe that Sheharzaad was talking about that famous company. It was a multinational company that operated in many countries across the globe, and many youngsters dreamt of getting a job there.

"Yes, Amna! Yes! Our lives are going to change now. I still can't believe they called me. Pinch me hard," she said, extending her hand.

"When will you grow up, Shehar?" Amna said and pinched her arm hard.

"Oww...stupid," she squealed, making Amna laugh.

"When is your interview?"

"Tomorrow! Oh shit! Shit! Shit! I have nothing to wear. Now I want to die!" she said briskly, quickly standing up and moving toward her room to dive into her cupboard and find something to wear.

Amna chuckled and prayed for her.

Sheharzaad was an extremely hardworking and career-focused student. She was always determined to achieve her goals. Her whole life had always revolved around studies so she could be a successful woman one day, and getting a call from a multinational company was a dream that came true today.

She completed her degree two months ago and meanwhile worked in a café to pay the rent of the apartment they both lived in. She was like a lone soul in this world until she met Amna. Four years ago, her parents died in a car accident. She was devastated; her world crumbled that day, and she had no idea what would happen to her. Her parents left her with a small piece of land which she sold with the help of Asad, their neighbor. He was a man in his mid-fifties, extremely humble, and well-acquainted with Sheharzaad's family. He also bore all the expenses of her parents' funeral.

Sheharzaad had no aunts or uncles, and her parents were also the only children of her grandparents. She didn't know much about her other relatives, so the funeral only included the neighborhood. The following week, she received a call for a scholarship at a university where she had applied for admission in Lahore. She left her city for Lahore forever, with the small amount of money she got after selling the small property.

When she got a room in the hostel, she met Amna, who was her roommate. Amna was two years older than her and was also a free bird. Her grandmother had brought her up, but she died the previous year, which caused Amna to miss the entrance test and wait for a year. Slowly and gradually, they became best friends, more like sisters. Amna was always like an elder sister to Sheharzaad. Sheharzaad used to blabber, and Amna would listen to her endless stories endlessly. She took her out of trouble, advised her, scolded her for not cleaning her bed, and much more. When they both completed their degrees, they rented a small apartment. Then Amna met the love of her life, Ahmed, who worked in a bank, and they got engaged.

Sheharzaad noticed how Amna's health had deteriorated over the past few months. When they went for a check-up, Amna was diagnosed with cancer and needed immediate medical assistance. A huge amount of money was required for her treatment, which Sheharzaad's job at the café couldn't fulfill.

She desperately needed another job when her eyes caught an advertisement that the post of assistant to the CEO of Syed Enterprises was vacant. She immediately applied for it. She had slim chances of getting the post as she was a fresh graduate, and assisting the CEO required a lot of experience. You're like a right hand to him.

She knew what position the company held globally. It was like a dream job to her, and it would provide her with enough money to initiate Amna's treatment. She couldn't bear to see her dying. Though it might require a lot of money, she was willing to break every limit to get her out of this disease before time ran out.

"Amna, which one should I wear?" Sheharzaad asked, holding two dresses in her hands.

"The white one. It'll be simple and elegant."

"Ahaan! You're right. How come you're so intelligent, Amna?" She joked.

"Genes," Amna answered.

"You've got good genes," she said, making Amna laugh.

"Are you sure, Shehar, you'll make it there? The company is quite well-known, and there might be a lot of candidates."

"I'll give my hundred percent, Amna. I want this job. We both can't live on the mere ten thousand rupees I earn from the café. Your treatment needs to start now, and this job would provide me with enough money."

"I don't know where this cancer came from—" she stated in a sad tone before Sheharzaad cut in.

"Genes," Sheharzaad answered quickly before she could complete her infamous sentence, "I don't want to be a burden on you," followed by a drop in her face, depicting her sadness.

"Aha! Sheharzaad," Amna chuckled.

"I'll call Ahmed. He'll be so happy after hearing the news," Amna said, picking up her phone and dialing her fiancé's number.

"Oh yes, do inform him. Ahmed bhai kept bugging me on and on about whether I got the call for the interview or not."

"Yes, yes, I will," she said as Ahmed immediately picked up the call.

"You carry on with your husband-to-be. I have to dig into my wardrobe to find some shoes for tomorrow," she said, leaving the room.

"By the way, Shehar, who's the CEO? What's his name?" Amna asked, knowing only about the company, not the CEO.

"Shehryaar Haider Syed," she replied without looking back and moved toward her room.

...................

Riders on the storm Riders on the storm The music played softly as he continued his speedy and energetic strides on the treadmill, his naked torso glistening with sweat.

Into this house we're born Into this world we're thrown His slow pants reverberated in the air. His well-built, indestructible biceps were on full display. His eyes formed a deep frown as if he was thinking hard about something. A few strands of his hair shadowed his forehead.

Like a dog without a bone An actor out alone Riders on the storm He pressed a button, and the treadmill's speed increased. His legs moved faster, and his jaw clenched with the rush of adrenaline in his blood vessels.

There's a killer on the road His brain is squirming like a toad His grip on the handle increased, so did the intensity in his grey eyes and the speed of his legs.

He smirked.

'Just a few more,' he encouraged himself.

Take a long holiday Let your children play After maintaining the same speed for a few minutes, he increased the speed further. His teeth ground against each other, and his legs moved faster than ever.

The sweat increased.

The speed increased.

The pants increased.

If ya give this man a ride Sweet memory will die Killer on the road, yeah '10,' he counted in his brain.

Girl, you gotta love your man Girl, you gotta love your man '9'

With every count, his strides became more rapid.

Take him by the hand '8,' adrenaline rushed in his veins.

Make him understand '7,' his breathing accelerated.

The world on you depends "6," he gritted his teeth.

Our life will never end "5," he clenched his jaw. His legs were running at an inhuman speed.

Gotta love your man, yeah "4," he muttered.

Riders on the storm "3," he panted heavily.

Riders on the storm "2," his pupils dilated. He was about to make it, breaking his own record.

Into this house we're born "1,"

Into this world we're thrown Like a dog without a bone "0!" he uttered with merriment, slowing down the treadmill, then stopping it completely and getting off.

He panted heavily as he gulped down a glass of water placed nearby before sitting down on a couch in his personal gym as the music continued to play behind him.

Very few things gave him contentment, and defeating himself was one of them. Just like he did now, by breaking his own treadmill record. It made him feel undefeatable.

When he had caught his breath, he got up, dried his sweat with a towel, and felt someone entering the gym.

He turned his head and saw the woman he had slept with last night entering, wrapped in a small towel that barely covered anything.

"I believe I told you, your job was done," he stated, his attention now on her. His face was stoic and void of any emotions.

There's a killer on the road "Shehryaar," she whispered.

His jaw clenched.

She bit her lips seductively and moved toward him. Her fingers intentionally loosened their grip on the towel. Her thighs clenched tightly against each other at the sight of the handsome beast standing in front of her, who had taken her mercilessly last night.

"I want something from you," she muttered as she moved closer to him. When she was close enough, she deliberately let go of the towel, and it cascaded down her body.

A fake shocked expression marred her face, which he deciphered immediately.

"Huh! I'm sorry," she said with that fake shocked tone and made no move to grab the towel.

"What is it that you want?" he cocked a brow, not giving a glance at her naked body.

She moved forward, invading his personal space, and tucked her hands behind his neck.

"Don't touch me," he whispered in a calm tone, but she ignored it, not sensing the calm before the storm.

"You didn't suck me last night," she uttered without any shame.

Her eyes lingered on his lips, and she licked hers with desire.

"And you didn't kiss me last night," she whispered and moved forward, standing on her tiptoes to place her lips on his.

He shook his head slightly.

'Bad move,' his mind said.

Before her mind could register, he suddenly gripped her throat, not too tightly but the threat was there, and in a jerk, he landed her on the couch where he had been sitting before.

Panic struck her eyes.

"You want to kiss me?" he gritted, increasing his hold. Anger was evident in his features.

When she took more than two seconds to reply, he further increased his grip, now cutting off her air supply. He jerked her body forward and then harshly smashed her body again on the couch.

"Si...sir," she whispered in her shaky voice, filled with trepidation.

"Are you here to be fucked again?" he demanded.

"Si...sir. Wh..."

"You want my lips on your pussy, which is fucked by hundreds of men daily?!" he gritted, his brows hanging down with a sudden surge of anger. His other hand now threaded into her hair, tightly holding her locks, making her neck arch at an uncomfortable angle.

"Le...ave," her heart beat fast.

"God damn answer!" he clenched his jaw.

"Yes...yes," she answered quickly.

"Yes, what?" he questioned.

"I want to be fucked again. I want you to fuck me," she replied swiftly before his temper rose more.

He smirked. His hand freed her locks and separated her thighs, tapping her nub harshly with his calloused hand.

"You should know," he stated and slapped her hard on her core, making her gasp for air, but the tight grip on her throat didn't let her.

"I don't fuck a woman twice," he stated, giving her the hardest hit there, removing his hand, and getting off her.

"Show yourself out," he ordered, and she immediately got up, her legs moving toward the door quickly.

"And," he said in his deadly voice, making her stop in her tracks. Her bare back faced him. She didn't have enough courage to look back at him again.

"Dare to call me by name again, I'll cut your lips," he finished, and she ran out without caring to cover herself.

................

"Sir, we've picked out only five people based on their GPA's as you instructed," Hammad, who worked as his PA, informed him as Shehryaar moved toward his office, and he followed behind him.

He had fired the last assistant due to her non-serious behavior toward work, and he couldn't tolerate any idiocy or laziness in work. Work was his life. He had built this whole empire on his own, not taking any help from his brother, Irtaza, his father, Haider, or his grandfather, Shabbir.

He wanted to build his business with his own hard work, and he did that. After burning the midnight oil and years of struggles, he finally reached the point where his company was globally flourishing, progressing by leaps and bounds.

He wasn't a person to ignore mistakes. First impressions were the last impressions for him. If you made a single mistake, you were fired the very next second. No apologies, no justifications, no arguments. And who would argue with him? The whole staff knew how scary their boss was, and no one could ever win an argument with him. He was so manipulative, with that dark and cold aura always around him.

He was extremely anti-social, with only a few, rather just four men, close to him: Irtaza, his elder brother; Moosa, Irtaza's first in command; Zaroon, his closest friend; and Hammad, his PA, who dealt with all the mafia business. Even with Hammad, he maintained his distance, discussing only mafia deals with him.

As Hammad was always busy dealing with the mafia, Shehryaar wanted a personal secretary who could help him deal with the business. So, he decided to advertise the position, and as expected, there were tons of applications. On his orders, Hammad picked just five candidates.

The fewer the people, the better it is. One of his philosophical statements.

Upon reaching the office, he sat on his swivel chair, and Hammad, who had been following behind him, came inside too.

"When have you scheduled the interviews?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"Tomorrow, sir."

"Great. Till then, you'll have to be my secretary."

"Fine, sir."

"What are the names of the candidates?" he asked.

"Maham Saleem, Hamza Junaid, Ijaz Raza, and Atif Ishaq," Hammad listed. These names were etched in his memory due to the extensive research he had done on them. Out of tons of applications, only these five got the chance.

"The last one?"

"Sheharzaad Qureshi."

.................