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Finally!

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Author POV:

In Italy, in a broad room with dark themes giving a dangerous vibe, a man slept on a king-sized bed. Murmuring in his sleep, he groaned.

"No, no, please leave her, please leave her, please. Noooo..." His eyes snapped open suddenly. Panting heavily, he sat up, legs hanging off the bed, hands clutching his head.

In an instant, a flood of shadowy memories flashed before his eyes—blurred figures, a cry, a loss he couldn't name. His chest tightened, but he shook it off with a grimace, refusing to dwell.

Rising swiftly, he walked toward the washroom, pulling out a towel and wrapping it around his waist after removing his clothes, the fabric brushing against his tense muscles.

In a while, he stood under the shower, tossing the towel aside with a flick of his wrist. The man was none other than Zain Elian.

Hands resting on the shower walls, The exposed chiseled body, broad shoulders and six-pack abs glistening under the water, calming his mind from the storms haunting him. The steam rose around him, a veil against the echoes of his restless night, his hazel-blue eyes staring blankly at the tiles as if searching for answers he wasn't ready to face. 

The water cascaded over his dark hair, dripping down his sharp jawline, a man carved from power and wealth. His fingers brushed against his hair.

Later that evening

In Italy, Milan—a place known as Italy's "moral capital" and a hub for business, finance, and fashion, making it a likely gathering spot for influential people, the heart of Italy's industrial and commercial activity. The city buzzed with the hum of luxury cars and the clatter of high-heeled footsteps on cobblestone streets, a symphony of wealth and ambition.

In a grand building exuding royalty and richness, its towering glass facade reflected the morning sun, royal lights beaming out classy societal vibes with old aesthetic designs carved into the stonework—intricate patterns of lions and laurels hinting at a legacy of dominance.

Inside, a large hall, mostly serving as a banquet room, thrummed with anticipation. The background projected "Business Awards Function" in elegant gold lettering across a velvet curtain. 

A big diamond chandelier hung in the middle of the hall, its crystals scattering prismatic light across the room like a constellation of stars. Round dining tables draped with golden clothes were spread everywhere, inviting influential people to stand and sit, their whispers blending with the soft clink of champagne glasses. 

In the middle of the hall, straight from the door, a red carpet lay on the polished marble floor, stretching to one end of the stage and extending up the stairs to the podium, a path reserved for the night's victors.

Many influential people began to arrive, their tailored suits and glittering gowns a testament to their status. Media and photographers gathered on one side of the stage, their cameras flashing like lightning, capturing every smile and handshake of the event unfolding before them. The air was thick with perfume and expectation, a stage set for power to shift hands.

Then, a grey Rolls Royce stopped at the front, a man, 6'3" tall, stepped out in a black suit clung to his chest, looking as if it were crafted exclusively for him. 

A logo of a polo player on horseback indicated it was a "Ralph Lauren" brand suit, conveying a sense of classic style, luxury, and athleticism, reflecting his personality- a blend of elegance and untamed strength.

The man was none other than Mr. Zain Elian.

Taking long, deliberate steps with an aura dancing on his face, he entered the hall. The hall fell into extreme silence as he entered, daring everyone to notice and think. His presence was a command, his hazel-blue eyes scanning the room with a predator's precision.

Zain hated too much noise, the chaos of voices grating against his controlled soul, so no one dared raise their voice, continuing with silent conversations in hushed tones. 

Even the background music, a subtle orchestral piece, was kept low so he wouldn't get offended.

He walked on, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble, and sat a few distances from the stage, legs crossed, his posture exuding authority. The event began.

The host, a polished man in a tuxedo, started welcoming everyone with a rehearsed smile, but Zain, with completely uninterested expressions, waited for the event to end so he could escape the suffocating grandeur and return to his solitude.

And then, the wait was over. The host began announcing.

"And the Best Business Award of the year goes to..."

There was complete silence all over the room. Everyone knew for whom the award belonged, the unspoken assumption hanging heavy, but the high silence matched the flow, building suspense.

"AURYAN CORPORATIONS! Finally, for the first time in many years, someone broke the chain of awards for AUREYA Group of Industries. Let's welcome Ms. Ayra Kayan, CEO and the one and only founder and visionary of AURYAN Corporations, who is not just known for her intelligence but for the excellence of her leadership. In just two years, what started as a small startup of hers has now turned into a company worth more than billion dollars, with branches spread across more than fifteen countries endlessly."

As soon as the host finished, there was a moment of complete silence and shocked expressions on everyone's faces. 

The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the announcement sinking in. Soon, everyone started chattering about what they had just heard, their voices rising like a wave.

Yes, because for years - since Zain became the CEO of AUREYA Industries - every year the award belonged to them alone.

Now, a woman had entered, breaking his monopoly on awards and finally challenging him! The crowd's murmurs grew, a mix of awe and disbelief, as they processed the upheaval of tradition.

On the other side, Zain's expressions remained unchanged - calm, cold, his gaze fixed on a water-filled glass. His fingers of both hands were tangled, elbows resting on the armrest of the royal chair, the golden fabric cool against his skin.

Just then, one side of his lips curled up, ending in a creepy smile. He smirked, a flicker of intrigue breaking through his icy facade.

And just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the room, silencing the chatter once more. All eyes turned to the door. 

The hall, covered with royal and dim light just enough for the event, contrasted with the bright light outside, where a woman came into view.

People couldn't see her face yet - just a dark shadow was visible, a silhouette of power against the glare.

Then, her right leg stepped onto the red carpet, exposing her Christian Louboutin Hot Chick-leather pump black heels, the red sole flashing with raw confidence with just that step.

She began taking further steps. The sound of her footsteps echoed all over the room, a rhythmic beat that commanded attention.

As everyone's gaze fixed on her - except him - she took further steps. A long rose-gold-colored coat, indicating an abaya, came into view, its fabric swaying with each movement.

As the reflection of light passed through, it fell on her, revealing her eyes - sharp, fixed, and yet beautifully dangerous, like a blade wrapped in silk. 

She took further steps with a quiet, commanding grace - an aura that silenced conversation and turned heads without effort. Each movement was deliberate.

The lights seemed to bend toward her, catching the delicate shimmer of her abaya and the poised tilt of her chin. 

She walked past rows of dignitaries and glittering chandeliers, completely exposed to the light, revealing herself fully.

Her face was uncovered, a scarf around her head hiding her hair, the edges embroidered with subtle gold threads. Eyes sharp enough to cut blades, lined with a slight kohl that deepened their intensity. 

A pretty nose and lips covered with natural essence, no lip gloss but still shining, with a mole before the right side of her lip adding a touch of mystery. Eyebrows unaffected yet in perfect shape, framing her face like a crown.

Each step indicated a sign that she had already won with the confidence she held. She took deliberate steps on the red carpet, designed to accept only her feet, the fabric whispering against the floor. 

She walked onto the stage, poised and radiant, her presence a quiet revolution.

And then, she accepted the award.

The woman was none other than Ayra Kayan!

She accepted the award with a quiet smile, the gold catching the light, warm in her hands. She stepped to the mic, her voice calm and clear.

"Thank you!"

she whispered as the crowd started applauding, washing over her like thunder. Her fingers still wrapped around the award for a moment, she just breathed, the weight of her achievement settling in, and continued.

"I don't have perfect words for this. Finally, I could say my hard work paid off. Also, I can see some surprised expressions here. Well, always expect the unexpected—especially in my case!"

she said with a quiet and wicked smile, which didn't give any explanation to the crowd, drawing them into more confusion, just as she wanted. The audience leaned in, their curiosity piqued, her words a riddle they yearned to solve.

While Zain's gaze was fixed on the glass, his expression still unreadable, a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior, Ayra watched the crowd, still standing in the middle of the stage, her figure a beacon of defiance.

Just then, Zain raised his head. And at the same time, Ayra's eyes snapped to that corner where Zain was.

Their Eyes locked. 

At the same time with the same intensity.

Not collided, but met.

Quietly.

Completely.

A stillness settled over the room, thick and electric. The world around them blurred, as though the cameras, the clapping, the glittering chandeliers, all had stepped aside to make space for this pause.

Three minutes passed already. The seconds didn't matter. It felt eternal.

Neither blinked.

Neither looked away.

No shift in expression.

No falter.

Just two souls, locked across the space, holding everything they couldn't say in the silence between them. Something happened between them, their expressions still unreadable.

Zain's mind raced—her strength, her fire, a challenge he couldn't resist. Ayra felt a shiver, a thing she couldn't name, her heart warring with her independence. Just then, Tara - Ayra's PA whispered in Ayra's ear as she saw them staring.

"Mam he is the one whom you've defeated today, CEO of Aureya group of industries".

Ayra heard everything with her gaze still locked with him and then she spoke up.

"Host, why is the background music sounding like it's someone's mourning happening here rather than an award function?"

Her gaze never left him. Neither did his. The host hesitated for a bit to answer, his voice catching under the weight of her words. He then looked at Zain, who was still staring at her, his silence a command.

Then she turned her gaze to the host, who was looking at Zain with terrified expressions, sweat beading on his forehead. Ayra followed the host's gaze and back to the host, ordering.

"Change it." 

Zain's gaze shifted to the host, who was already looking at him, and gave a silent nod with his eyes, an expression to follow her orders without question.

"Okay, ma'am, as you wish!" the host said and disappeared, his footsteps quick against the carpet.

And the function began. 

Later!

Everyone drifted to their conversations, the room filling with the soft hum of voices once more.

Zain was completely lost in conversation with some investors. Of course, he was not only here for awards but for work too, his mind already calculating deals and alliances.

Ayra was talking to a few influential people, two of them in their mid-50s and one in his 60s, her voice steady as she discussed expansion plans.

Both Zain and Ayra were in an open-space party area attached to the room itself, but at opposite corners, the distance between them a silent battlefield.

Just then, a man in his 30s, holding a cunning smile, stood beside Ayra without warning. He placed his hand on her shoulder, his touch uninvited. 

Ayra quickly jerked back and saw a wicked smile on the person's face.

"Hello, Ms. Ayra. It's nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Kate," he said and forwarded his hand for a handshake, his eyes gleaming with intent.

Ayra quietly heard him, watched his hand, and then looked back at his face, her expression hardening.

"Hello, Mr. Kate. Thank you! But I prefer conversation without physical touch," she said directly, looking into his eyes, her tone leaving no room for debate.

"Oh, come on!" he said and again wrapped his hand near her shoulder, his grip tightening.

She jerked back swiftly and repeated, "I said, I prefer conversation without physical touch. It's better if you stay within your limits."

But Mr. Kate didn't give up.

"Oh, come on man, this is all common," he said and again kept his hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging in.

Before it extended further, Ayra acted with precision. She took his hand swiftly with her left, placed her right elbow against his chest for leverage, grabbed his color with her right hand, and with a fluid motion, lifted him off the ground. Using her strength and momentum, she threw him down onto his back on the carpet, where he landed with a thud, groaning in pain, his body sprawled like he was sleeping but writhing in agony.

The crowd gasped, cameras flashing.

She came forward and put the sharp heel of her right leg on the hand that had touched her shoulder just before, the pressure making him wince. Bending down and sitting on her legs, she whispered.

"It may be common for you unethical people, but not for me. No one is allowed to touch me!"

She said with a voice full of fury, pressing her heel harder on the man's hand, making him groan in pain more, shifting everyone's gaze to them. She whispered again.

"I don't like to repeat twice, yet you made me do it. Assume it as a death warning." She grabbed his tie with one hand near the end and the other near the start, her grip ironclad.

"If this thing repeats again...., I'll make sure to save oxygen for others while stopping yours," she said, pulling the end of the tie and tightening the hold near his throat, making him choke uncontrollably with difficulty getting oxygen.

He choked for almost a minute uncontrollably, his face turning pale out of oxygen, and she removed her hand and stepped back. Without any warning, she left from there, her heels clicking with purpose, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.

While Zain watched the entire show with an unreadable expression, his eyes tracking her every move. He watched her leave, the corner of his lips curling up with a faint smile, a spark of admiration igniting in his cold heart.

The actual fact is Mr. Kate was none other than the Official Business partner of Aureya group of industries.

The party was over. Zain returned to his mansion, the international nature of the event ensuring everyone communicated in English only, the language a neutral ground for power plays.

As he entered his grand Mansion, its marble echoing his steps, he asked Anna, "Where is Magnus?"

(Anna - Maid)

"In your room, sir!" Anna replied, her voice soft, and without a reply, he turned to leave to his room.

Just as he opened the door, a White Tiger - commonly called a White Bengal tiger, the leucistic form of the Bengal tiger, was sitting on a glass table, the sides covered in a lion's shape in golden color. A vase lay broken beside it, shards glinting under the dim light.

Zain took further steps, the cool floor beneath his shoes, and gently massaged the tiger's head. The name of the white tiger was Magnus.

"Hey, Magnus! You broke another vase, Can't you sit somewhere else? Oh yeah, jealousy Hmm! You think you're capable of sitting on a lion's head just by sitting on lion's table, hmm..." he said while gently massaging his head, his voice a low rumble.

Magnus turned his head, clearly saying he didn't give a damn to his words, his amber eyes unyielding.

(Huh grumpy man's grumpy pet)

"Looks like someone's going to enter our life," he whispered, to which Magnus turned to him and growled loudly, a deep, resonant sound filling the room.

"Cool, Magnus, you'll enjoy it too!" he said and stood up, picking up his phone from the bedside table, its screen glowing in the dark.

He quickly made a call. With the second ring, the man picked up.

"Hello, Ashwaq! I need you to do something, and it's important!" he said in a clear, cut tone. Ashwaq understood the seriousness in his tone and whispered.

"Okay! What is it?"

(Ashwaq - Zain's Best Friend!)

Zain told him the work he needed to do a task only Ashwaq's skills could handle. Ashwaq replied to the work.

"Am I really speaking with Mr. Zain Elian? That always grumpy man now asking..." Before he could complete, Zain cut him off.

"Shut up! Just do what I say!" he said and hung up, the phone clattering onto the table.

He stepped onto his balcony, the Milan night air cool against his skin, a glass of water in hand.

"The show begins now!" he whispered to himself while the corner of his lips curled up ending in a creepy smile.

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Hello reader's! How's the chapter?
I'm repeating again! It's my first time writing kindly bare with any mistakes.
It's first chapter and as a new author i don't expect to get good visibility and votes. But I want you to support me and kindly vote and comment guys!
Your support really matters to me.

Any scenes which got your heart? Let me know!
I'm sure you people gonna enjoy this. But be with me!

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