His steps were proud and triumphant, climbing the parallel, curved staircase like a king. It was almost midnight when Sardar Alam Khan allowed him to leave the deewankhana. The man was constantly brainwashing Shahzeb; advising him on how to use atrocious tactics upon his antagonists, and how to attack on their weak points. Shahzeb was listening to him like a good Samaritan who was in need of genuine advice. But at this time of the hour, all he actually needed was the privacy of his bedroom, to take care of his angry wife, using his own impish tactics to fade her anger away.
He turned the knob of the heavy wooden door and pushed it open. The room was dimly lit by a crystalline night lamp which was scattering its radiance through a diamond cut glass top, making the whole atmosphere more secretive and secluded. Zoya was lying on the bed with her face buried in a pillow. All Shahzeb could see was her silky mane of chocolate brown hair covering the pillow. She had changed into a loose black short sleeved plain tunic, paired with grey ankle length thin leggings, accentuating her shapely, long legs. Shahzeb felt his body fevered, heating the blood in his veins. He couldn’t understand whether it was the temperature which was set on 32° degrees by his bewitching wife or just the site of her perfectly proportioned figure that had risen the temperature of his own body instantly. How could a simple girl like her make him feel all jittery like a hormonal school boy whenever he glanced her way? Shaking his head on his own feelings, he closed the door and bolted it up.
Shahzeb gazed intently at his wife. She was surely acting as if she was asleep, but the mere movement of her right foot was evidence enough of her awareness of his presence.
A smile crept on his lips; he stepped forward and closed the distance between them. Taking his Rolex off of his wrist, he placed it on the bedside table along with his phone. He had already showered and changed into a soft jogger style black pajama, with a full sleeved green V-neck T-shirt. Taking his slippers off, he climbed up the bed and lowered himself on his angry beauty.
“You are a bad actress Mrs. Khan. Now stop pretending and get up, before I apply my own methods of waking you up,” Shahzeb whispered in a deep voice.
Zoya did not bulge. She was clearly not afraid of his threat.
Shahzeb took her heavy silky hair in his hand and gently pushed them away from the back curve of her neck. He ran his index finger over the length of her slender neck, causing her body to shiver with anticipation. She immediately took his hand in her fist and tried to stop his actions. Still not facing him…
Shahzeb made no attempt to free his hand from her vice-like grip. Instead, he used his lips, doting small feather like kisses on her neck and exposed right shoulder. Zoya’s grip on his hand loosened, her body hummed with a familiar excitement, but she wasn’t ready to surrender to his advancements yet. She turned and faced her devilish husband, who was indeed a manipulative player in the game of seduction. Her protestations always invariably melted like ice cream over hot brownie and made her putty in his hands. Zoya’s mind buzzed with a by-now familiar cautionary signal. She knew that if she didn’t stop him within the next five minutes, she wouldn’t be able to stop him anymore.
“If you think that you can stay away from home for the whole week, partying and playing dirty games with people’s lives, enjoying your boisterous adventures with your old good friends and having dinner dates with your girlfriends; and when you feel exhausted and need to relax for a bit, you can come home and grant your mighty visit to your overly naive, obedient and meek wife; on which she would feel privileged and appeased; then you think ridiculously high of yourself.” Zoya spat fiercely.
To say that Shahzeb was shocked on her wrathful and snappy retort would be an understatement. He was beyond shocked; appalled and paralyzed on his spot.
He had returned after a whole week of tiring and consuming hard work; attending endless political dinners and meetings. He had rarely slept for a full night during the last seven days. He had been so occupied with his workload that he couldn’t even keep up with his exercise routine, or even with his mid-day meals. But he never forgot her existence even in that chaotic schedule. In fact, he yearned to be with her every night. After every hectic day, when he was completely drained of all his strength, all he craved for was his wife and the warmness of her soft body beside him. He craved for her; for that floral scent of hers which soothes his overridden senses. He had considered of summoning her up in Delhi, but he knew she would soon end up bored and lonely. The 2-3 hours of midnight meetings would surely make her irate. So he discarded the idea of asking her to accompany him in Delhi. And when the torture of being away from her went beyond his control, he left everything in the hands of his executive officers and his PAs Nasir and Raghav; and came back to his family for spending at least a day or two with them. Especially with Zoya.