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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𝕰nough of these games.
Little did he know, the games had only just begun. I slammed the door shut and popped the last of my anxiety pills. Thank God I had a small stash in my office purse. A stash that had very quickly run out.
Bored and frustrated, I turned to my phone, contemplating calling my sister. Since no one had bothered to give me the Wifi password, and I had limited data, FaceTime was not an option, which in hindsight was good for all of us. If they'd seen the bruises on my face, my whole family would have been at Mughal House, something that would just make things worse. My father was already livid with Taimoor's decision and the thought of him not being able to do anything was driving him crazy. Baba had only calmed down once I'd explained the situation the second time, over a very stressed out phone call, with a very calm Nazia helping out in the back. My mother on the other hand had been more practical. After her initial hysterics, she'd decided to call Bibi and give her an earful on her son and his actions. A show of support I'd greatly appreciated.
She's not my type.
Bullshit.
Despite my better efforts, his callous words felt like a bullet tearing into me without any mercy. I was the one who let my guard down so thoroughly that I felt the brutal, ugly bite of each one. God, I couldn't believe I'd fantasized about him. He wasn't some romantically tragic figure who needed saving in some silly fairy tale. He was the cold, cruel villain...the unfeeling monster, inside and out, who chased everyone away. This was sick and wrong, what he had done. But more than that, how I felt was sick and wrong. He had been right. I did have a bit of darkness within me. The delicious curl of vengeance. A hint of malice.
He was going to regret those words. I was going to make him regret those words. This imbalance of power wasn't going to be a one-way thing. Not for long. Taimoor was a beast, but he was also a man. And now I knew that he wasn't immune to me. Our little spat in the elevator and our wedding day had been a proof of that. His cruel words might hurt, but he did look at me differently.
He was affected by my presence, and I wasn't above using that.
༻✺༺
A sound pulled me up from my dream. Part by part, my body came back into existence under the covers. The sound, it turned out, was a tray. A stand had appeared from somewhere with a tray balanced there with a covered plate and a steaming mug.
It was morning.
I threw my legs over the bed and stood up. Sleeping for a small eternity made my knees less wobbly. Checking my phone, I shot a couple of messages to my parents and my sister, trying to calm their worries, still ignoring Zeenia's texts.
Stomach growling, I lifted the silver cover on the tray. The plate underneath was beautiful, with a thin gold line around the edges. And the food on top— Scrambled eggs like small clouds. A stack of tiny waffles. Silver-dollar sized, with a little dish of syrup on the tray, too.
