The Spice Trader

"Two million. Final offer."

Ayesha leaned back in her chair. Raheem Malik had been trying to buy her uncle's spice business for three months.

"Not interested."

"You don't know the industry. You'll fail within a year."

"Then wait a year and buy it cheaper." She smiled sweetly. "Or are you worried I won't fail?"

She didn't fail.

Ayesha threw herself into learning—suppliers, distribution, the delicate art of blending that made their masalas unique. And everywhere she went, Raheem was there.

"You're stalking me," she said at a trade show.

"I'm doing business. Same floor." He smirked. "Paranoid much?"

"Cautious. There's a difference."

"There's an attraction too." He stepped closer. "Don't pretend you don't feel it."

"I feel nothing except irritation."

"Liar."

The grudging respect came slowly.

They started sharing tips—competitors who realized collaboration benefited both. Business lunches became personal dinners became his flat after a particularly intense negotiation.

"This doesn't mean I'm selling," Ayesha gasped as he kissed her.

"I stopped wanting to buy months ago." He pressed her against the wall. "Now I want something else."

They made love surrounded by spice samples—fitting, really.

Raheem was intense, demanding, exactly as challenging in bed as in business.

"Meri jaan," he breathed, moving inside her. "You're the best competition I've ever had."

"Romantic."

"Honest." He grinned. "Let me compete with you forever."

"A merger?" Ayesha said afterward. "That's what you're proposing?"

"Business and personal." He held her close. "Joint company. Joint life. All the spice, together."

"You just want my supplier contracts."

"I want you. The contracts are a bonus." He kissed her forehead. "Say yes, Ayesha. Build an empire with me."

The merger created Britain's largest Pakistani spice company.

The wedding featured custom blends named after them both.

Hottest partnership in the industry.