Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom

Chapter 312 312 : IRA

Note: Thank you @Salha and @Hamkidz for the Ice cola's

_

Ira, the woman who came with the middle aged man is Ira, the lady who helped Das in designing clothes during the porntub event in Happy house. Das and Ira had an intimate relationship during that time. After that they did not contacted each other.

Ira, the woman who had entered with the middle-aged man, carried a name that echoed deeply in Das's memory. It was a name attached to a time when their paths had crossed before, during the event at the Happy House. Their association had been intimate, passionate even, but it had faded as swiftly as it had ignited. And now, unexpected and unannounced, she stood before him once again.

As the middle-aged man's curses echoed in the room, Ira's attention remained locked onto Das's face. Despite the discordant exchange, her gaze met his, a tension lingering in the air as their eyes connected in a silent acknowledgment of their past connection. The charged atmosphere seemed to bridge the gap of time that had separated them since that previous encounter.

The old man's commentary-like speaking irked Das, and his patience snapped. He leaned forward, his hands on the desk, and fixed the old man with an unyielding gaze. "I don't appreciate people with loud mouths. Get out," he commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

The middle-aged man, caught off guard by Das's directness, stuttered for a moment. "But, sir, we just wanted to—"

"I don't care what you wanted. Get out," Das cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes remained locked on Ira, even as he dealt with the old man's presence.

Ira stood nearby, her head bowed as she listened to the exchange. She felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation, unsure of how Das would react to her being there.

Amidst the awkward silence, the female secretary, sensing the escalating tension, quickly entered the room. She cast a concerned glance at Das before addressing the middle-aged man. "Sir, please, let's discuss this calmly outside."

The old man, flustered and unsure how to proceed, glanced at Das for one last time. But Das's crimson gaze was unrelenting, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Finally, the old man stepped back, bowing slightly. "Very well, sir," he muttered, his voice defeated. He turned and left the room, the atmosphere easing as he did.

Das's gaze remained on Ira, who stood still, her heart pounding in her chest. The tension in the room seemed to lessen, and his stern expression softened as he studied her.

"I only asked him to leave. Not you," Das said, his voice now calm and casual. His gaze held a mix of curiosity and recognition, as if he were trying to unravel the threads of their shared past.

Ira's eyes met his, a myriad of emotions reflected in them—surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of something else. As the female secretary discreetly exited the room, leaving them alone, the weight of their unspoken history hung in the air, mingling with the present moment.

As the middle-aged man began to take a step back, seemingly to retreat from the room, Ira mirrored his movement, her head still bowed. But just as they were about to exit, Das's firm knock on the table halted their retreat. The middle-aged man turned back, hope flickering in his eyes, thinking that perhaps they were being given a chance to stay.

However, Das's gaze was steady, and it wasn't directed at the middle-aged man. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Ira. As if drawn by an invisible force, she lifted her head slightly, meeting his intense gaze.

"I only want him to leave. Not you," Das's voice cut through the air, his words directed solely at Ira. His finger pointed toward her, the gesture carrying a command that was unmistakable.

Ira stood there, rooted to the spot, a mix of emotions swirling within her. Das's gaze held her captive, his eyes seemingly searching for something beyond the surface. The atmosphere was charged with unspoken history, and her heart raced in response to the intensity of the moment.

The middle-aged man's gaze flickered between Ira and Das for a moment, and then he leaned closer to her, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered something urgent. Ira's brows furrowed as she listened to his hushed words, her expression conflicted.

With his parting message delivered, the middle-aged man turned to leave, closing the door behind him. The soft thud of the door seemed to echo in the room, emphasising the sudden privacy that enveloped Das and Ira. The secretary followed suit, ensuring the two were alone in the spacious office.

The room seemed to expand in the quiet that followed, as if holding its breath, waiting for something to transpire between the two figures at its centre. Das's voice broke the silence, pulling Ira's attention to him. "Are you going to stand there forever?" he inquired, his tone a mix of amusement and impatience.

He stood up from his chair, his movements deliberate and measured as he started walking toward her. The distance between them closed in slow motion, each step carrying an undeniable weight. His eyes remained locked on hers, an unspoken intensity flowing between their gazes.

Ira's heart quickened, caught in the pull of his gaze, a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation swirling within her. She felt a swirl of emotions—memories of their past, the years that had passed, and the unspoken connection that still lingered between them. As Das approached, a delicate tremor coursed through her, causing her to clench her hands by her sides.

Time seemed to suspend as the space between them diminished. The air felt charged, heavy with the weight of their unspoken history and the potential for something yet to be acknowledged. And as Das's eyes bore into hers, Ira found herself standing at the precipice of a moment that could change everything.

As Das slowly walks toward her, each step seems to stretch the moments between them, amplifying the emotions that have been dormant for so long. His tall frame casts a shadow that dances with the soft light filtering through the expansive windows. His eyes, a striking crimson red, hold a depth that Ira finds both comforting and unnerving.

Ira's voice trembles slightly as she speaks, her voice a mix of vulnerability and apprehension, "Das..."

Das stops a few feet away from her, his own emotions a tumultuous sea beneath his calm exterior. His voice carries a gentle intensity, "Ira. It's been a long time."

Tears well up in Ira's eyes as she gazes into his crimson red orbs, memories flooding back like a rushing tide. "Yes, it has," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

The room seems to shrink around them, their past converging with the present. Das takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. He reaches out, his fingers hesitating before brushing away a tear that escapes Ira's eye. His touch is both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the connection they once shared.