|| 12. PAIZE 1 ♥ ||
Holding onto the bare curve of her waist from beneath the swaying end of the saree, his other arm securely wrapped from under her thighs, the magnificent man carried Mohana making their way through the grand cafeteria hallway. Her chest breathlessly heaved against his steel strength, his proximity igniting a yearning which despite her attempts to ambush, kept surfacing with more vigor.
“Ohhh! I know where I have seen him. He’s that fashion designer, Omar Shaan!” one of the onlooking staff members informed, hoping to be out of the ear shot of the man that had ferociously snapped at them
“Ah yes, yes. I never imagined he would be taller than tall in real life! Such a handsome man! He looks like a movie star himself, maybe that’s why he doesn’t like Soren Rick” the staff member pondered in a conscious whisper in the aftermath of their recent scare
The other one commented “Could be, but he has more fans than Soren anyways. I think he is so much more sexy. Soren is all good boy looks but this Omar is like a manly man..” the kitchen staff members favorably chuckled in agreement within themselves “..Do you think they are a thing? The chief journalist and him? They look so hot together”
“Ya they make a very striking couple, imagine if they got married, their babies would be so adorable just like our baby Trissa” one of the elderly woman dreamily commented of their boss Tyr’s granddaughter
The staff alongside happily gushed similar thoughts, eagerly glancing at the popular celebrity Omar Shaan carrying the delectable journalist. The tasseled end of her ensemble flew in the air with every step, covertly hiding his hand on her creamy waist, while their onlookers excitedly admired the fascinating power couple they made.
The fabric of the rich pink-red hued traditional saree tied on her delicate figure held stark contrast to the black tshirt fitted along his broad muscular built. Lost in Omar, Mohana fixedly gazed into his glittering spheres, her hand possessively resting on his heart, cheeks getting their glowing fill as she basked in the warmth of his presence
Crossing through the street, Omar made his way to a parked black sporty vehicle which stood on significantly higher ground clearance from other passenger cars and vans in the vicinity. Halting besides the truck, Omar gently slipped Mohana against his frame, yet maintaining his hold on her waist, he kept her bound to his strength.
She merely blinked at the paver stones ground meeting her heel clad feet, but her silver eyes remained adorably dazed to their aim, seeking to wholly absorb his magnificence. While his touch along her waist continued to make her heart race, encourage butterflies to rampantly align themselves to his grip, all that mattered was, she was with him.
The crowd of commuting employees from the depot curiously glanced at the couple besides the black truck. Some seemed to recognize the famous celebrity, while others were simply intrigued by their presence around the busy area.
Unlocking the passenger door, Omar whispered, his voice laced with concern “You’re alright?”
She opened her mouth, but unable to form words needfully swallowed some air. No matter however much she craved for him, her shyness always multiplied manifold in his illustrious proximity, making her exceptionally nervy
“Hm?” his husky reminder sent the entire kaleidoscope of her butterflies in another frenzied motion, excited to acclimate themselves to his touch roving up and down, caressing the curve of her waist
Seeing him open the vehicle door, her agitatedly racing heart sunk to the pit of her stomach creating a frantic rebuttal for not wanting to be left alone. The shuddering panic swirled within, dominating her entirety by an emphatic demand to stay bound to his warmth, protectively shielded in his strength, far and much longer than was foreordained.
In a tiny whisper, Mohana voiced her complaint “Tummy?” reporting on the queasy ruffle running amok on his intent of departure, assigning him the responsibility for what seemed beyond her control
“Is it hurting?” Omar checked with urgency, his large hand possessively moving under the lavish saree fabric to cover her abdomen
Her cheeks blazed at his powerful touch, the rush of extreme warmth infusing through her colder body had Mohana inhale a quivery breath. Embraced in his hold, her heart skipped a beat, then another.
“I thi..” Mohana tried, attempting to accept what she had always held close to herself, but her words halted, her eyes swooped close, body nearly flailed had it not been for his support.
His grip fastened on the dainty woman collapsing against his robust strength, securely melding her petite frame to himself, Omar cupped her angelic face rushing in concern “M’anam?”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I fainted too when I was pregnant, make her lie down” from the oncoming crowd a woman rushed towards the couple offering consolation whilst joining them, another woman considerably added “Ya first trimester, it is normal, your wife is really beautiful, it’s all because of blood sugar, happened with me too”
His eyes darted to the interference, scanning the strangers that were interestingly looking at the unconscious Mohana whom he stood possessively engulfing in his embrace. Anxiously caressing the small of her back, Omar urgently whispered to the dainty woman in his captivation “Talk to me, mo stór”
Reading his expressions as that of surprise, the woman offered with a smile “Oh you didn’t know she’s expecting a baby. But it happens with newly weds all the time. Your wife must be planning to surprise you, but the belly only shows after three or four months and she’s so slim”
“I know. The baby. I know. Yes. It’s good..” Omar confidently claimed “..My sister recently gave birth too, so I will know how to manage this. I am taking her home, if you’ll excuse us” he added, confirming to the few Sarrata employees curiously halting at foot of his truck
“Are you feeding her well? I used to feed my wife a lot of snacks. That won’t ever make her dizzy” they heard a man provide from alongside, when another stranger chimed in “Maybe it’s her saree, it must hurt her stomach”, while someone else in the collecting group commented “We should call the doctor, what if she has anemia, she looks so pale and white”
Holding the fragile Mohana securely against his frame, wrapping her propreitorially in the circle of his arms, Omar declared to the group “I’ll take care of her..”
“Not just her, now you have to be responsible for your wife and the baby as well” an older gentleman interrupted him when a woman wearing a large back pack, holding a child’s hand, stepped closer “Do you need help? I have water”
“Appreciate it, but I have water in the truck” speaking to the woman, Omar politely dismissed the crowd “She’ll be perfectly alright, I’ll take care of her. and everything else”
Ignoring the run of murmurs and suggestions the small gathering had started to exchange within themselves, Omar hastily opened the vehicle passenger door. Under the watchful gaze of judgmental strangers he just as easily carried the unconscious Mohana in his arms, to settle her collapsed form carefully on the leather seat.
The women around Omar gushed deeming him a macho and caring husband, while some men were heard grunting on his carelessness for letting his wife faint in the first place. Catching other employees starting to halt by the group surrounding him, closing the hinged door, Omar protectively locked the truck securing the Sophista editor-in-chief inside.
Raising his joined hands to the crowd in a gesture of respect, Omar increased his distance from the onlookers. Crossing over to the driver side from ahead of the vehicle, barely unlocking the truck to get inside, he rushed behind the wheel. Leaning sideways he tenderly smoothed Mohana’s golden hair, but his voice was coarsely demanding “Mo stór, say something, look at me”
Without a care for his appeals, Mohana lay motionless against the black leather seat. A movement across the dark tinted window alerted Omar. Acknowledging the security guard’s salute with an exchange of his nod, Omar turned to secure Mohana’s seat belt. Powering the truck, he shifted gears, gravely speaking to the thin glass device on his wrist “She fainted and is not waking up”
Cupping Mohana’s face, his thumb frantically stroked her temple as he channeled their way to the campus exit. Stealing glances at the beautiful woman, monitoring the watch for each passing millisecond, his voice kept appealing Mohana “Mo shíorghrá, talk to me”
Coming to a halt at the exit barrier gate behind a single trail of vehicles, Omar furiously mumbled words under his breath. Looking at Mohana besides himself, her innocent face still expressionless as if lost in sweet slumber, he caressed her cheek murmuring a desperate whisper “M’anam, say something”. Met with silence again he stretched her seat belt, pulling her in his embrace, enveloping the unconscious form against his warm chest.
Speeding the truck from the junction, he effectively maneuvered around other vehicles through the rush of traffic, driving expeditiously. The pristine woman he held remained unaware of the raging heartbeats, the rush of pleas or the moments ticking by.
Ensuring they were spaced far from any possible followers, he fluidly turned them into a narrow alley. In a quick move he eased the security belt from around Mohana pulling her into his embrace. Holding her with an emphatic need, Omar ran his fingers over her silken mass of blonde hair, urging with desperation “Talk to me, mo stór, you can’t.. we can’t do this”
“We.. can’t” her faint words came muffled against his chest. Regaining consciousness Mohana inhaled him in. His words reverberating inside her entirety ‘..we can’t do this..’ made pain sear through her heart. The reality of it all made her close her eyes in agony.
Embracing her freezing body, his large palm smoothed along the length of her chilling arm, attempting to induce her with warmth, ascertaining “We can’t..” he huskily demanded “..look at me, mo stór”
In obedient response her lashes raised for the large glassy silver eyes to find his onyx black orbs. Alongside grabbing hold of a can, he rushed to check “You’re tired? Is your tummy bothering you? Do you want water?”
“Noh. it. hurts” whispering, she weakly turned her face on his palm reaching to grip his tshirt but her lifeless fingers rolled off his chest. Mohana knew she had to let him go. He was going to leave. But just this one time she didn’t want him to.
“I’ll stop the hurting..” Omar assured “..give me a few, but can we have this?” opening the can of water he held it to her lips
Shyly shifting into him, seeking his warmth she managed a faint refusal “Mhm”
“Yes, mo shíorghrá, we are thirsty, am having it too” taking a quick gulp to prove, Omar held the can to her lips again. On a low sound of displeasure she took a reluctant sip. Then realizing she was thirsty after all, Mohana emptied the contents of the can
“Get you anything right away?” Omar enquired, his arms cocooning Mohana in an attempt to soothe her extremely cold body
Her fingers failing to grip onto his tshirt again, made her frown in complaint as she deliriously mumbled “You?”
“Am here” assuring her, Omar scooped Mohana in his arms shifting her frame to bind her against his chest. Securing them behind with the same seat harness, he encapsulated her hand in his larger one holding it on his heart “Hm?”
“Hm” she murmured in approval, feeling the steel hardness of his strength, snuggling unhesitatingly into his warmth despite the utter chaos raging through her
Caressing her hand Omar murmured “Do you know how many streams Sarrata manufactures in a day?” engaging her in small chatter, he reversed the vehicle, speeding them through the streets.