I barely slept.
Monday morning arrived too quickly.
I dressed with shaking hands: charcoal pencil skirt again, cream silk blouse, navy blazer, hijab pinned so tightly it hurt. The updated Suamsungu file sat in my bag like a bomb. I arrived at 8:05. The floor was quiet. His office door was already open.
He was at his desk, sleeves rolled, tie knotted with military precision, reading something on his tablet. He didn't look up when I entered.
"Set the file there," he said without lifting his eyes. Voice low. Flat.
I placed the folder on the edge of the obsidian desk. My fingers lingered a second too long.
He finally glanced at me — brief, unreadable. "Sit."
I sat. The silence stretched.
He opened the file, flipped through the first few pages, then closed it again.
"Suamsungu sent a lead negotiator. Park Ji-Ah. She's arriving today." He leaned back, eyes on me now. Steady. "You and Marie will handle point on documentation and resolution. I want daily updates. No surprises."
My throat tightened at her name. I nodded. "Yes… Lucifer."
He studied me for a beat longer than necessary. Something flickered in his gaze — not warmth, not anger. Just… awareness. Then it was gone.
"That's going to be all. Thank You"
I stood on unsteady legs. At the door I paused, the apology I'd rehearsed all weekend burning on my tongue.
But he had already turned back to his screen.
The moment had passed.
I walked out without saying a word.
Ms. Ji-Ah arrived at ten.
Tall, striking, cream blazer hugging her frame, silk camisole dipping just low enough to be deliberate. Hair in a sleek chignon. Lips pomegranate-red. She smiled at Marie and me like we were old friends.
"Ms. Khan. Ms. Laurent. A pleasure."
We sat in the small conference room. She opened her tablet, skimmed the agenda, then looked straight at me.
"The chairman… he's quite something, isn't he?" A small, intimate laugh. "So controlling, So.... Is he always like that? Or only in the boardroom?"
Marie deflected smoothly. I forced a polite smile. "He values results."
Ji-Ah tilted her head. "Single, I assume? A man like that… he must have very particular tastes." She leaned forward slightly. "Does he like Korean food? Late nights? Women who aren't afraid to… take control?"
My fingers curled around my pen until the plastic creaked.
"I handle his schedule," I said quietly. "Not his personal life."
She smiled wider, satisfied. "Pity. I was hoping for a little insider insight."
The meeting dragged. When it ended she gathered her things slowly. As she passed my chair she murmured something in Korean — soft, amused, almost fond. I didn't understand the words, but the tone crawled under my skin.
All afternoon her voice echoed in my head. Her smile. Her questions. The way she said his name like she already knew how it tasted.
By evening I was unraveling.
Marcus drove me home. The ride was quite and pleasant. Halfway through the ride he mentioned it casually looking through the rearview mirror.
"Today's the chairman's birthday."
I hadn't known.
"He never makes a big deal of it."
The words landed like a stone in my stomach. I hadn't even known when his birthday was.
"Marcus… can we stop somewhere first?"
He didn't question it. We detoured to an upscale men's boutique on the Strip. With his quiet help ("Navy. Classic. Nothing flashy.") I chose a deep midnight-blue silk tie — elegant, understated, expensive. I paid with the company card. A client appreciation gift. Perfectly justifiable.
Instead of my apartment, Marcus drove to Lucifer's residence — the sleek glass penthouse overlooking the city.
He let me out. "I'll wait if need me —"
"Thanks a lot for the generosity Marcus. I cannot possibly keep you waiting. I'll Uber back."
Marcus gives me a smile and says "Understood."
I wait for the escalade to leave the driveway
***
The private elevator opened directly into his foyer.
I stood at his door, gift box in hand, pulse roaring in my ears.
I had decided to apologies to him. To tell him that I want to have a proper relation with him. That I want to go slow... But i didn't know what i really wanted in my heart.
I rang the bell.
The door opened.
I couldn't believe what is saw.
Park Ji-Ah.
Sheer black robe — transparent — tied loosely. Nothing underneath. Wine glass in one hand. Hair slightly mussed. Lips faintly swollen.
She looked me over, slow and deliberate.
"Oh. The assistant."
My mouth turned to ash.
"I… I just came to drop this off." I lifted the box. "A birthday gift. From the team."
She leaned against the frame, robe slipping open another inch. "From the team. How thoughtful."
"From the team. How thoughtful."
She took the gift box from my hand.
She sipped her wine, eyes glittering. "He's in the shower. Long day. You know how it is."
She smiled — not vicious, but calm. Certain.
"He mentioned you once. Said you were… very loyal. But tonight he's in the mood for something less… complicated?"
The air left my lungs.
She stepped closer, voice soft. "You can wait if you like. Or join us. I'm not possessive… if he wants both."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
"I—I should go."
I turned and ran.
The elevator. The lobby. The Uber.
I curled into the back seat, arms wrapped around myself, tears coming hot and fast.
My mind filled with images I couldn't stop.
The Uber dropped me at my building. I stumbled inside, didn't change, didn't wash my face. I curled on the bed with clothes on, clutching the gift box, sobbing into the pillow.
Ji-Ah on her knees in front of him. His hand fisted in her perfect hair. Her mouth stretched around him, jaw wide open. Him lifting her onto the counter, spreading her legs, entering her slow and deep while she moaned his name in that soft accent.
I pictured him taking her from behind, her breasts pressed to the glass window, city lights glittering below while he fucked her the way I'd have almost been fucked by him. I pictured him coming inside her, growling low, marking her while I sat here crying like a child.
My thighs clenched together, aching through and through, like the humiliation was meant for me. Even now — even imagining him with her — my heart still wanted him, my body still wanted him.
I wept for him.
I hated myself more than I ever had.
I typed in the text I wanted to send Marie with trembling fingers.
"Ji-Ah is at Lucifer's house. Right now."
I wanted to press send, But i stopped.
Ji-Ah was giving him something that I had ruined. He didn't have a say in that. So when Ji-Ah wants to take the chance I should not have any say in this either.
I had thought long enough, about myself. About him. About what I did to him.
I had decided to put myself forward first this time. And I pressed send.
No reply for almost forty minutes.
Then:
"Habibti. He's not at home. He's still at the PTC merger dinner and he needs to attend the birthday event that his veteran friends are hosting downtown. I'll deal with the Ji-Ah situation. I'll make sure the security throws her out. Chill~
Take the day off.
"
I stared at the screen.
Not home. Not with her.
Relief hit so violently it made me smile. But it came laced with a realization.
She had lied. She had stood there half-naked and lied to my face — just to watch me break.
I cried harder — not just from relief, but from rage, from shame, from the way my own mind had tortured me for hours with pictures that weren't real.
I thought about telling him. Exposing her. Making sure she never got near him again.
But then I remembered Montreal. Remembered pushing him away when he was hard and aching and offering me everything. Remembered leaving him alone in that suite.
If he wanted someone who didn't run… If he wanted satisfaction I'd denied him…
Maybe he deserved it.
I wiped my face.
I typed one last message to Marie.
"Please add Park Ji-Ah to the hot list protocol. We'd not want a direct engagement."
I set the phone down.
The choker sat beside me, pinned in the box.
I stared at it in the dark.
And something inside me finally cracked open.
I didn't just need his attention. I didn't just ache for him.
I wanted him to be mine.
His hands on me. His voice saying my name like no one else's. His attention. His body. All of it.
I didn't want to share that. Not with Ji-Ah. Not with anyone.
Even if wanting him this way was haram. I've committed haram long before I arrived here.
I wiped my left over tears, undressed, pulled the blanket over myself and clutched the choker.
Today was his birthday.
And Today I had stopped running from myself.
I closed my eyes, heart pounding with something new — something sharper than guilt.
Possessiveness.
And for the first time, it didn't feel like sin.
It felt like a new beginning.