Chapter 1: The Ruthless Queen
Hania strode into her corner office at Apex Industries, her black stilettos clicking like a predator’s claws on the polished marble floor. At thirty, she was a vision of lethal beauty—long, raven hair swaying like a whip, curves that could stop traffic, and a glare that could shatter glass. As CEO, she ruled with an iron fist, her voice a blade that cut through the boardroom. 'Fix this mess, or you’re out!' she snapped at her trembling assistant, who scurried away like a scolded pup. Her empire was flawless, her reputation in the city untouchable. But beneath the tailored suits and icy demeanor, a storm brewed.
Her husband was away again, working out of town, leaving their sprawling mansion echoing with silence. Nights alone, Hania would retreat to her bedroom, the weight of her day slipping away as she opened the drawer by her bed. Her fingers closed around the sleek vibrator, a secret she guarded fiercer than any corporate deal. Sliding it beneath the silk sheets, she’d tease herself, letting the buzz ignite her senses, her breath hitching as she imagined a touch rougher, wilder. But that vulnerability was hers alone—no one would ever see the queen falter.
Down in the garage, Sham polished her luxury car with a rag, his muscular frame tense, broad shoulders flexing with every swipe. In his thirties, he was raw power, a man who’d seen the grit of life and wore it like armor. His hands gripped the cloth tight, but his mind was elsewhere—on Hania. Her sharp tongue had lashed him one too many times. 'Drive faster, idiot!' she’d barked just that morning, her eyes flashing with disdain. He loathed her, yet his body betrayed him, a fire burning low in his gut. His cock twitched at the thought of her, not as the untouchable CEO, but beneath him, undone, begging. He wanted to break her, to make her scream for him, to turn that icy control into molten need.
That evening, as the city skyline glittered beyond the garage, Sham lingered after his shift, wiping down the car with deliberate slowness. Hania emerged from the elevator, her presence a storm cloud, her tailored blazer hugging every dangerous curve. 'You’re still here?' she snapped, her voice dripping with irritation. 'Don’t you have a life to crawl back to?'
Sham turned, his dark eyes locking with hers, a smirk curling his lips. 'Just making sure your ride’s perfect, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.' His tone was smooth, but there was an edge, a challenge that made her pause, her gaze narrowing.
'Don’t waste my time with your sarcasm,' she shot back, stepping closer, her perfume a intoxicating mix of power and seduction. 'You’re here to serve, not to mouth off. Remember that.'
He chuckled, low and dangerous, leaning against the car, his frame towering. 'Oh, I remember. But a man can dream, can’t he? Dream of… other ways to serve.' His eyes raked over her, bold and unapologetic, lingering on the swell of her hips.
Hania’s jaw tightened, but a flicker of heat betrayed her, a flush creeping up her neck. 'Watch yourself, Sham. I don’t play games with dogs.' She turned on her heel, but not before he caught the slightest tremble in her step.
'We’ll see who’s playing soon enough,' he muttered under his breath, his smirk widening as he watched her disappear into the night. The air between them crackled, a fuse lit and waiting to explode. He knew her type—untouchable until touched right. And he was damn sure he’d be the one to do it, to feel her break under him, hot and desperate. The thought alone had him hard, his mind already racing to the moment he’d have her, panting, dripping, and his for the taking.
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