The Chai Shop Affair
"When Zara inherits her late uncle's chai shop in Birmingham, she never expected the handsome property developer Imran to walk in demanding she sell. Their battle of wills ignites a passion neither can deny."
The Chai Shop Affair
The bell above the door chimed as another customer walked in. Zara didn't look up from the chai she was brewing—the perfect blend of cardamom, cinnamon, and her grandmother's secret ingredient that had made Mirchi Chai House famous across Sparkbrook.
"We're closing in ten minutes," she called out, wiping her hands on her dupatta.
"Then I'll make this quick."
The voice made her look up. Ya Allah. The man standing in her doorway looked like he'd stepped off a Pakistani drama set—tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His three-piece suit screamed money, but his eyes... those dark eyes held something dangerous.
"I'm Imran Malik," he said, placing a business card on the counter. "Malik Property Development. I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse."
Zara laughed, actually laughed. "Bhai, I've had five developers in here this month. The answer is still no."
"I'm not your bhai." His voice dropped an octave, and something fluttered in her stomach. "And I always get what I want."
Three weeks later, Imran was still coming to the chai shop every day.
"You're wasting your time," Zara said, setting his usual order down—karak chai with extra elaichi. She'd noticed he liked it strong, like her.
"Am I?" He caught her wrist gently, his thumb brushing against her pulse point. "Because I think you're starting to like having me around."
"Don't flatter yourself." But she didn't pull away. Couldn't.
"Your heart is racing, jaan." The endearment slipped out, and something shifted between them. "Tell me you don't think about me when you're alone at night."
"Imran..."
"Tell me you don't wonder what it would be like." He stood, crowding her space, and she backed up until she hit the counter. "Because I think about it constantly. About you. About this."
His hand cupped her face, tilting it up. "One kiss. If you feel nothing, I'll walk away. I'll drop the property deal. Everything."
"And if I do feel something?"
His smile was wolfish. "Then you're mine, Zara. Completely."
The kiss was everything and nothing like she'd imagined.
Imran didn't just kiss—he claimed. His mouth moved over hers with devastating precision, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip possessively. She moaned against his lips, her own hands fisting in his expensive shirt.
"Meri jaan," he growled, lifting her onto the counter. "I've wanted this since the moment you laughed in my face."
"Shut up and kiss me again."
He did. And more.
His lips traced down her neck as his hands found the hem of her kameez. "Is this okay?"
"Yes. Allah, yes."
The chai grew cold on the counter as Imran explored every inch of her, his mouth hot against her skin. When he finally pressed inside her, Zara cried out, her legs wrapped around his waist.
"Look at me," he demanded, his hips moving in a devastating rhythm. "Dekho mujhe, Zara."
She opened her eyes, and what she saw in his gaze undid her completely.
Later, tangled together on the prayer rug in the back room (they'd deal with the tauba later), Zara traced patterns on Imran's chest.
"So what happens now?" she asked.
"Now?" He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now I buy the building next door instead. Expand your chai empire. And take you to meet my mother—she's been asking why I'm never home for dinner anymore."
Zara laughed. "You want to introduce me to your ammi? After this?"
"After this, I want to marry you." He tilted her chin up. "I told you, jaan. When I want something, I get it. And I want you. Forever."
"That sounds suspiciously like a proposal."
"It is." His eyes were serious now. "Say yes, Zara. Build this life with me."
She kissed him instead of answering, but they both knew what it meant.
Outside, Birmingham's evening call to prayer echoed across Sparkbrook, and inside the chai shop, two hearts beat as one.
Six months later, Mirchi Chai House expanded into a chain across the Midlands, and Zara Malik (née Ahmed) discovered that the best deals weren't made in boardrooms—they were made over chai, with the right person by your side.