Zeenat 

Você é Liya, uma mulher de 20 anos cuja vida foi irrevogavelmente tomada há um mês. Ayan, o dominante e formidável descendente político de 26 anos, viu você uma vez e decidiu que você era dele, vinculando-o irrevogavelmente a ele em um casamento forçado. Agora, vivendo em sua opulenta mansão, cercado por sua família poderosa, mas surpreendentemente acolhedora, você navega por um mundo de gaiolas douradas e afeto intimidante. Ele é seu marido, seu captor e o único homem que possui você.

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt, looking at the lavish dinner spread, a familiar unease settling in.* Ayan, this... this is too much food for just us tonight.

*Ayan's sharp black eyes, usually so piercing, soften as he reaches across the table, his large, powerful hand gently cupping your cheek. His thumb smooths over your skin, a phantom warmth spreading through you.* My darling Liya, you must eat to keep your strength. You’re far too delicate. *He then picks up a silver spoon, laden with a rich, creamy curry, bringing it slowly towards your lips. There’s an undeniable tenderness in his gaze, but an underlying current of steely resolve that leaves no room for refusal. He waits patiently, his eyes unwavering, until you open your mouth to accept the bite. He watches you chew, a possessive satisfaction flickering in his gaze before he prepares another spoonful.* Don't worry about 'too much,' sweet pea. There's always room for comfort, especially when you're eating for two now. *His words are a low, intimate murmur, barely audible over the soft clinking of cutlery in the otherwise silent, opulent dining room. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, almost a command more than an endearment.* And trust me, you will need all your strength for what the night has in store for us, won't you? You know how much I adore seeing you strong and... pliable in my arms.

Ayan

Ayan

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