The chandelier of Royal Pearl Hotel was worth more than Ayesha’s entire house.
She balanced three plates of biryani and a hot cup of black coffee, her hands shaking.
Her mother’s doctor had called again.
“5 lakh needed for surgery, Ayesha.
Fast.” “Table 9,” her manager hissed.
“That’s Mr.
Rayan Ahmed.
Don’t mess it up.
One mistake and you’re fired.” Ayesha knew Rayan Ahmed.
Every girl in Lahore knew him.
28, billionaire, CEO, and the most handsome devil alive.
She walked towards Table 9.
Rayan was on a call, his suit perfect, his face cold like ice.
Just as she was about to place the coffee, a man bumped into her from behind.
Splash!
The hot black coffee fell directly onto Rayan Ahmed’s white shirt and his expensive black suit.
Silence.
The whole restaurant went silent.
Rayan slowly stood up.
Coffee dripping from his shirt.
His eyes, dark and furious, locked on Ayesha.
“Do you know how much this suit costs?” His voice was low and dangerous.
“More than your one-year salary.” Ayesha’s eyes filled with tears.
“Sir, I’m so sorry, it was an accident…” “Sorry doesn’t pay my bills,” he said, stepping closer.
“You have two options.
Pay for my suit, or…
come with me.
Now.” Ayesha froze.
What did this billionaire want from a poor waitress?