Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 132: Too Cold

Chapter 132: Too Cold

Mira stiffened, surprise etched on her face. She was taken aback by his words, the sudden shift in his demeanor, and the way he hadn’t even spared her a glance. Was this what rejection felt like? The thought stung more than she cared to admit. Just moments ago, his energy had been almost magnetic. What had changed so suddenly?

Her lips parted, but no words came. There was an unfamiliar tension in the room, one she couldn’t shake off. Silently, Mira walked over to him, her steps tentative but steady. She stopped beside him, watching as he sat rigidly, his focus deliberately locked on his work. Her hesitation grew. What was she even supposed to say?

She leaned in slightly, her voice soft and deliberately coaxing. "Mr. CEO, please come eat," she said, her tone shifting to something playful and babyish.

Zamian froze. His grip on the documents in front of him tightened for a moment before he relaxed, as if forcing himself to remain composed. He wanted to look at her so badly—to meet her gaze, to give in to the warmth she always seemed to radiate. But instead, he fought the urge.

"I’m busy right now," he muttered without sparing her a glance.

Mira’s smile faltered, though she quickly masked it. The tension in the air was unmistakable now. She replayed her earlier words in her mind, realizing they must have struck a chord. No wonder he was acting this way.

Still, she wasn’t one to give up easily. Her smile returned, though it held a touch of mischief this time. "Fine," she said with a shrug, turning away. "Then I won’t eat either."

She began to walk off, each step slow and deliberate. But before she could take more than a few steps, she felt a hand grasp her wrist. The pull was gentle yet firm, and within moments, she found herself sitting on his lap.

"Of course you will," Zamian said, his deep voice sending a shiver through her.

Mira turned her head to look at him, her smile growing wider. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I will eat, Mr. CEO. Eat with me." Her voice softened, taking on the same babyish tone as before.

Her hand trailed slowly up his chest, her touch light yet intentional, until it rested at the base of his neck. Zamian’s pupils dilated slightly in surprise at her boldness. He let out a frustrated groan, tilting his head back for a moment as if trying to regain control.

His wife had a way of making him forget his anger, of melting away the cold facade he worked so hard to maintain.

"I will," he muttered under his breath.

Mira beamed, her happiness almost childlike as she stood and let go of him. Taking his hand in hers, she gently tugged him to his feet. Zamian didn’t resist. He let her lead him out of the office and toward the dining area, his steps measured yet deliberate.

"We’ll pick up Zemi in two hours," Zamian said as they walked, his voice calm but firm. "I’ll finish here in thirty minutes."

Mira nodded, content with his promise, and took her seat at the dining table. The meal before her looked inviting, and she didn’t waste any time digging in. Zamian followed suit, his movements precise and quiet.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was peaceful. It felt like a shared moment of understanding, a small reprieve from the whirlwind of their lives.

After what felt like an eternity, Zamian broke the silence. "I’ll be done in thirty minutes. Then we’ll leave, okay?"

Mira glanced at him and nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. Once she finished her meal, she began clearing the table, her movements quick and efficient.

Zamian watched her for a moment before standing and walking back to his seat in the office. He knew there were staff members available to handle the cleanup, but he also knew his wife. Mira could be stubborn when it came to certain things, and this was one of them.

As he immersed himself back into his work, Mira wandered into the living area. The quiet quickly bored her, and her eyes landed on a company magazine lying on the coffee table. She picked it up, flipping through the glossy pages.

The magazine was more of a photo booklet, showcasing the interns and staff members at Zamian’s company. They were arranged by their positions, each photo accompanied by a brief description of their roles.

Mira’s gaze lingered on some of the faces, her brows raising in mild surprise. There was no denying it—Zamian’s employees were strikingly attractive.

She turned another page, her curiosity growing. Was being exceptionally beautiful or handsome a hidden requirement to work for him? The thought amused her, but it also sparked a hint of mischief.

The sound of the doorbell broke the stillness, snapping Mira out of her thoughts. She set the magazine down and looked toward the door just as it opened.

A man stepped inside, his presence commanding attention even without speaking. Mira didn’t need anyone to tell her—this was Zamian’s assistant.

The man entered the office, his eyebrows raising in question. He glanced around, his expression shifting from confusion to mild surprise. The atmosphere was different.

Normally, the space carried a thick, cold, and expressionless aura that made him nervous. Staying for more than ten minutes felt unbearable most days, but today...

Today, the air was calm, almost soothing. It was a stark contrast to what he’d been expecting.

Curious, he scanned the room, and his eyes landed on Mira. She was seated on the sofa, her posture relaxed but elegant. It didn’t take long for him to piece things together.

Ah, of course. His boss’s wife was here. No wonder the atmosphere wasn’t as suffocating as usual. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

Thank God. She had been saved. No, nonsense. He had been saved. Yes, thank God he had been saved.

Clearing his throat, he greeted her, his tone respectful but warm. "Good to see you, Miss Mira."

Mira smiled as she stood, walking toward him with an air of grace. She extended her hand, her voice equally warm as she replied, "Good to see you too."

The assistant smiled in return, though his composure began to waver. He didn’t need anyone to tell him—the atmosphere was shifting again. The calmness was slipping away, replaced by the cold, expressionless aura he had come to dread.

Zamian was not pleased.

Feeling the weight of his boss’s sharp gaze, the assistant respectfully nodded at Mira before turning to Zamian. The way Zamian stared at him... It was as if he were silently commanding, Say what you need to say and leave.

The assistant hesitated, scratching the back of his head before finally speaking. "Mr. Zamian," he began, his voice slightly shaky. "Tomorrow, all the leaders from our company branches will be coming here for a meeting. It would be greatly appreciated if you could attend."

Zamian’s response was curt. "Okay. Leave."

The assistant nodded quickly, a forced smile on his face as he turned back to Mira. His smile softened, becoming more genuine as he said, "Goodbye, Mrs. Mira."

Mira nodded, her own smile returning.

The moment the door closed behind him, the air grew heavier. It was almost suffocating now, the silence thick with unspoken tension.

Mira turned to Zamian, who was standing by the door, a deep frown etched on his face.

"Why so cold?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Zamian turned to her, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. The sound was laced with mockery, his frown deepening even further.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying an edge of amusement.

Mira folded her arms, her expression turning serious. "He was so nice to you. The least you could’ve done was acknowledge that he spoke."

Zamian’s frown intensified, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Nice?" he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mira nodded firmly. "Of course, he was."

For a moment, Zamian said nothing. His expression shifted, and he finally stood. "Let’s go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mira blinked in surprise. Hadn’t he just said he needed thirty more minutes? Why had he changed his mind so suddenly?

Unable to hold back her curiosity, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"To pick up Zami," he replied curtly, his tone final.

Mira began to wonder if she had done something wrong. The tense air between them was suffocating, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that her husband’s sudden displeasure was directed at her. As they stepped into the elevator, the silence became deafening, amplified by the faint hum of the machinery.

Zamian stood beside her, his posture straight and rigid, his gaze fixed on the glowing floor indicator above the doors. His expression was unreadable, the sharp angles of his face set in a way that made him look even more intimidating.

Mira glanced at him from the corner of her eye, biting her lip nervously. She hated this—being unsure of what he was thinking, feeling like there was a wall between them that hadn’t been there moments ago.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat, but the silence was unbearable. Finally, she turned to face him, her voice soft and laced with uncertainty.

"Honey, are you mad at me?" she asked, her dark brown eyes searching his face for any sign of emotion.