The Shy Night

Smoke

• Part 1•

( this story is mature but not x-rated)

A sizzling noise filled the room, the smoke shielding everything like a screen as the sauce bubbled around the steak on the hot plate. The footman dressed in his white uniform stepped forward and placed the tray on the table.

The only sound in the room was the sound of his polished shoes on the wooden floor, and the sizzling of the food.

The smoke slowly wafted away and two figures emerged, sitting on the tall dining table. Slowly they started filling their plates, silent, graceful. One was a woman or rather a girl of a small silhouette but she sat tall, straight like she had been conditioned to do so. Back straight, shoulders pushed back, brown hair tied in a silk hair band and greyish eyes a contrast against her caramel skin tone.

The man, who sat at the head of the table was broad, brooding. Filling his Nazy blue suit perfectly, his hair styled back with a gel, impeccable style without a single crease. He almost cut his steak mechanically, the expensive cutlery sliding across the antique plates.

Both of them had slight similarities, not difficult to notice that they were siblings. Be it their eyes or the shape of their face.

" How is your study going, Zinnia? Hope you approve of the new tuitor."

" Jee, bhai. It's going good. He is great at what he does."

" Good. I don't want to hear any complaints this time."

She bit her tongue almost apologetically but their was no apology on her eyes that shined like always. She took a bite of her steamed vegetables and while doing so, she felt a chill of a gaze upon her. Her eyes darted up, almost subconsciously and met with a dark, steely gaze.

Hashir.

The fork in her hand trembled a little as she gulped and moved her eyes away, as smoothly as could.

But that gaze was unmoving, solid, dark.

She felt him watching, like she always did. Watching like a hawk, her every movement, her every breath.

Observing, calmly, always.

She felt the hotness of his gaze moving across her body, every inch of her became tense. She quickly went for some water, hardly being able to swallow, being too aware of his gaze.

She threw a random glance his way and then focused her eyes on her plate.

Still.

Focused.

Forced.

He was still standing there, like always as they had their dinner, observing every detail of the room. In his three piece black suit that he wore as an uniform, the bodyguard Hashir stood at attention. No one in the whole world filled a suit like did. Ruggedly handsome as the devil, sharp cuts of his face, dark hair like the night, hooded dark eyes, steely stare, brooding, emotionless.

But he was much, much more than a bodyguard. He was her brother's right hand man. 

Zinnia's brother was all she had in the world. Her brother was all the family she had. Being the only son, her brother Zahid had done the best he could to steady the empire after their parents death. Or murder. They had enemies, their life had been turned into a dark hell after their parents had been murdered. But it was long ago, long ago that the revenge had been taken. Long ago that her brother had turned into an emotionless man, extremely protective of everything that was left, including Zinnia.