The Mafia Boss's Bride

Chapter 94 : Manipulating...??

"Ava? How are you?" Elara's voice came through the phone.

But before Ava could give a reply, Ibrahim snatched the phone from her grasp, placing it on speaker mode. Ava looked at Ibrahim with confusion, as he held her phone in his hand.

"Ava?" Elara repeated, "Is everything alright? Why aren't you answering?" 

"Yes, I'm... I'm fine," Ava mumbled, her gaze flitting nervously between her phone and Ibrahim.

Ibrahim placed the phone on the nightstand, just out of Ava's reach. Then, with a smoldering look in his eyes, he gently pushed her, causing her to sink back onto the soft mattress. 

His body hovered over hers, a delicious heavy weight pressed down on her.

Ibrahim's breath played on her ear as he murmured, "Go on, talk to your brother."

Elara's voice continued, oblivious to the silent drama unfolding in Ava's bedroom. "Why haven't you told me you're back in Kuala Lumpur?"

As Elara's voice droned on, Ibrahim dipped his head, trailing a searing kiss down Ava's neck. His lips danced across her sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine and igniting a fire within her that she desperately tried to extinguish.

Ava, caught between the pleasure of his touch and the fear of Elara's disapproval, trembled uncontrollably. She knew she had to respond, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the storm raging within her.

"I… I was just busy..... So I....," Ava stammered. The rest of her sentence was lost in a muffled moan. She gripped on the bedsheets to regain her composure not wanting Elara to uncover the truth about their intimate moment. 

Unable to resist the opportunity to tease, Ibrahim's lip brushed, against Ava's earlobe. "Busy with me, perhaps, Hmmm?" he whispered,

Elara's tone sharpened. "Busy? Did you get so busy that you couldn't even send a simple message? Or is it Mr. Ibrahim who told you not to talk to your brother?" 

Ibrahim hadn't uttered a word since the phone call began. He pulled his head back from her neck and looked at Ava. Ibrahim smirked at Elara's veiled accusation. 

"No, Elara, he doesn't say such things." Ava replied to Elara.

Ava, caught between his gaze and the phone call, felt a desperate plea rise from within her – stop, please, just for a moment. But Ibrahim's eyes burned with a silent demand – surrender. He was enjoying her discomfort, the delicious tension radiating from her like heat from a desert sun. 

His fingers trailed down the neckline of her blouse, lingering on the delicate fabric for a moment before tracing the curve of her collarbone.

Ava heard Elara's voice, "Don't forget what I told you, Ava. Stay away from Ibrahim. Remember, he married you forcefully. Don't get close to him. Don't let him weaken your heart."

Ava gulped nervously, her fingers twisting the bedsheet. His disapproval was a constant undercurrent in her life, a dark knot she couldn't seem to untangle. But Elara's words felt like pebbles thrown against a mountain, powerless to stop the avalanche that was her love for Ibrahim.

"I remember," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're not… we're not close. We...we maintain distance." 

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. Her words rang hollow even in her own ears, especially with. Ibrahim's hot breath feathering across her collarbone. His brown eyes seemed to mock her denial, his every touch a silent challenge to her brother's words.

Ava met Ibrahim's gaze and continued, "And there's nothing between us. No feelings… whatsoever."

Her lie tasted like ashes in her mouth, its bitterness dissolving the sweetness of Ibrahim's kiss still lingering on her lips. Two storms raged now – the one outside and and the one within Ava. 

Meanwhile Ibrahim was busy. His fingers delicately gripped the chain of Ava's blouse. The chain, adorned with intricate metalwork. With a gentle tug, Ibrahim began to slowly undo the front closure, revealing the black camisole that lay beneath.

Ava's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as she felt the fabric of her blouse gradually parting under Ibrahim's touch. Ibrahim's eyes traced the path his fingers made, then traveled upward, devouring the curve of her neck, the trembling line of her jaw.

The phone, an unwanted guest in their intimate dance, continued its assault. "Be careful, Ava," Elara warned, "Remember, he's a manipulator, always playing his games. Don't fall for his sweet words, his empty promises. He doesn't care about you."

Ibrahim buried his face over Ava's bosom, his face coming into contact with the fabric of the black camisole. The softness of the material pressed against his skin. He inhaled the scent of her - a mix of fear and desire. Ibrahim could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin silk, the gentle rise and fall of her breath a tangible reminder of the woman beneath him. It was a subtle move, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through Ava. 

"I... I won't fall for him," Ava whispered, tears welling in her eyes, carving salty trails down her temples. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the moisture back, but the sting of her lie and the raw fear of Elara's wrath burned like acid on her tongue.

"If I get the time today," Elara's voice continued, "I'll come see you. Tomorrow at the latest."

"I'll be waiting," Ava managed, her voice barely a whisper, each word laced with the salt of unshed tears.

The call ended, the silence that followed thick and suffocating. Ava lay frozen, trapped beneath the weight of Ibrahim's gaze and the crushing burden of her lie. Then, the dam broke. Tears, warm and silent, spilled down her cheeks, tracing tracks through the dust motes dancing in the dim light filtering through the rain-streaked window.

Ava pushed Ibrahim away, her voice thick with tears, "Let me go! Please, just let me go!"

Ibrahim recoiled, surprised by her sudden outburst. He watched as Ava fumbled with the chain of her blouse, her fingers shaking, tears glistening on her cheeks. 

His fists clenched in frustration, the fabric of his shirt straining under the force of his emotions. "Must it always be like this, Ava?" he asked, "Why can't you just accept the truth?"

Ava, her back pressed against the headboard, her voice thick with tears, denied vehemently. "There's no truth, Ibrahim. I don't… I don't have any feelings for you. There's nothing between us. Nothing."

Her words were meant to be a shield but were arrows to Ibrahim's heart. Ava rose from the bed and tried to move away, to escape the suffocating intensity of his gaze, but Ibrahim, his patience at an end, stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His warm brown eyes now crackled with a storm of his own.

"Enough, Ava!" Ibrahim roared, his voice echoing in the room. "I won't tolerate your denial anymore. You can lie to yourself, to Elara, but not to me. This denial, this charade, it has to stop."

"There's nothing to deny," she countered, " Stay away from me."

But her words, once again, were lost in the wind. Ibrahim, his patience at its end, grabbed her arms, pulling her close. Her body met with his hard chest. 

"Accept it, Ava," Ibrahim breathed, "Accept the truth. You fell for me. Do you know how much it hurts me, this charade you play? I love you, and you love me too. The more you deny it, the more you torture me."

Trapped in his embrace, trembled. His words, laced with truth and raw emotion, pierced through her defenses, leaving her breathless. But the thought of Elara, his constant shadow, the price she had to pay for her forced marriage, fueled her defiance.

"Love?" she spat, the word a bitter pill on her tongue. "What love? Can you prove it? Can you leave your illegal businesses? Can you walk away from all that darkness? Can you?"

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