Maya had been in my room for the past half an hour - alternating between teasing me, giving me advice I didn't ask for, and stealing my snacks.
"Come on, Rey," she said with that mischievous grin of hers. "You have to admit he's got something. The way he looked at you...."
I cut her off with a glare. "The way he looked at me was the same way a lion looks at a deer before lunch."
Maya laughed, unbothered. "And yet, you didn't look away."
I rolled my eyes. "Because I was trying to figure out how to shoot him with my imaginary gun."
That made her laugh harder. "Oh my god, you're hopeless."
"Hopeless? I'm sane. You didn't see that arrogance dripping from his face. He thinks he's some kind of- "
"Greek god?" she interrupted, winking.
"MAYA!" I threw a cushion at her, which she caught midair.
She grinned, standing up. "Okay, okay, chill, Miss Rathore. I have to go anyway. Papa's waiting outside. He'll kill me if I'm late."
I groaned, sinking back into my pillow. "Fine. Leave me alone with my trauma."
She kissed the top of my head dramatically. "Don't think too much about Mr. Blue Eyes."
"Get out."
She laughed all the way to the door, waving as she left.
The room fell silent. First I changed into a simple white nightdress, the fabric cool and light against my skin and then for a few minutes, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts bouncing between frustration and something I didn't want to name.
Advik :-
I didn't usually lose my composure.
But the girl from the road - the one who'd dared to point a gun at me had just walked into the room.
Reyna Rathore.
The name echoed in my head like a punchline I didn't want to laugh at.
She was standing there, eyes wide, panic written all over her face, babbling something about cars and guns like a kid caught stealing candy.
If it weren't for the absurdity of the situation, I might've laughed.
Instead, I just leaned back in my seat, watching her try to dig herself deeper with every word.
Her father tried to calm her, explaining that his manager Gopal had already handled everything.
And that's when I saw it.
The way her shoulders dropped in relief.
The way her lips parted slightly as she exhaled.
The faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth when she realized she was safe.
Cute.
When her eyes found mine again, I didn't bother hiding my smirk.
I wanted her to know I wasn't done with her yet.
Because she might have escaped her father's wrath today but she wouldn't escape mine.
Kabir Chachu's voice pulled me back.
He was laughing softly with Rajveer, the kind of diplomatic chuckle that covered decades of rivalry.
"So, Rajveer," Kabir said smoothly, "Devika told me one of your daughters has returned from London?"
Kabir nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful and I could almost see the calculation behind them.
He looked from Rajveer to me, and then toward the stairs where Reyna had disappeared moments ago.
Ah.
So this was the reason for the sudden 'peace talk.'
My uncle hadn't dragged me to this mansion for business.
He was matchmaking.
Typical.
Rajveer continued, "Reyna's the younger one -a bit headstrong but... she has her mother's fire."
Kabir chuckled. "Yes, I can see that."
Then under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear, he murmured, "She's not the one we came to meet, though."
I frowned. "Came to meet?"
Kabir shot me a look that said not now.
Confusion prickled at the back of my mind.
Why was he asking about their daughters? What was going on?
Rajveer leaned back in his chair. "Ira will return tomorrow, and then we'll sit together and discuss the future - properly."
Kabir nodded, satisfied, while I sat there, clueless, piecing together fragments that didn't make sense.
A peace alliance? A meeting about daughters?
What the hell had I walked into?
Before I could ask, Rajveer turned to his son. "Aarav, why don't you show Advik around? It's been a while since anyone from the Raichands visited this house."
Aarav - probably seventeen or eighteen, lean, sharp-eyed smiled politely and gestured toward the staircase.
"This way, Advik bhaiya"
I rose to my feet, adjusting my blazer. "Sure."
As we walked through the wide marble halls, I couldn't help but notice how perfect everything looked here - the chandeliers, the marble floor, the smell of sandalwood and power.
It was the kind of home that didn't just scream wealth. It screamed control.
When we reached the upper corridor, Aarav gestured toward one of the rooms. "That's Reyna's room. And the next one's Ira di's - she'll be back tomorrow."
Reyna's room.
The door was slightly open. I didn't mean to look inside.
But I did.
And there she was.
Sitting on her bed in a simple white nightdress, legs tucked beneath her, hair tumbling freely over her shoulders. The lamplight danced off her skin, and she looked like chaos dressed in innocence.
For a moment, I just... watched.
Not because I wanted to but because I couldn't look away.
The same fire that had challenged me on the road was right there, alive and burning.
And I realized something.
Reyna Rathore wasn't afraid of me.
She was just angry.
And anger like that could be dangerous... or intoxicating.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Aarav's voice broke the silence.
I didn't respond.
He chuckled. "She looks sweet, but don't let that fool you. Reyna doesn't exactly play by rules."
I smirked faintly. "Yeah," I muttered, eyes still on her. "I noticed."
"Come on, bhaiya. Let me show you Reyna's room," Aarav said with a grin.
I hesitated for a second. It felt wrong to peek into someone's space... but if it was her, I couldn't say no. Aarav knocked on her door, and my heart did a tiny flip.
Reyna :-
I was sitting on my bed, lost in my thoughts.
Why was he even here? Why were the Raichands suddenly pretending to play nice?
And why did that stupid smirk keep flashing in my head every few seconds?
I groaned again. "Ugh, pull yourself together, Reyna."
But then-
A knock at the door.
I said instantly, frowning. "Come in."
The door opened, and Aarav stepped in — polite as ever, with that easy smile of his.
"Hey, Rey. Papa asked me to give Advik a tour of the house."
My stomach dropped. "So?"
"So," he continued, "this is your room. He wanted to meet everyone properly."
Before I could protest, Aarav stepped aside.
And there he was.
Advik Raichand.
In my doorway.
He looked exactly the same - annoyingly perfect. Black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, dark eyes laced with that same arrogance, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips like he knew he didn't need to say a word to annoy me.
I stood up and crossed my arms immediately. "What are you doing here?"
Aarav answered before he could. "Relax, Rey. He's just looking around. Papa insisted he meet the family."
"Fantastic," I muttered. "You can show him the kitchen next. Maybe he can crash a few plates too."
Aarav chuckled awkwardly. "I'll... check on dinner."
And with that, the traitor left me.
Alone.
With him.
The door clicked shut.
Advik stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping across my space - the framed photos, the half-open wardrobe, the faint scent of my vanilla candle still burning on the nightstand.
He didn't say anything for a moment. Just... looked.
Until his eyes finally met mine again.
"You've got quite a place here," he said, voice low, calm.
"Would've expected more guns, though."
I glared. "Don't flatter yourself. I've got enough left to deal with you."
He chuckled - soft but sharp. "Feisty. Guess the rumors about the Rathores being wild aren't exaggerated."
I clenched my fists. "You're seriously testing my patience."
He took one slow step closer. "Good. I like testing limits."
My pulse skipped. I hated it.
I took a step back, trying to sound bored. "So what's your deal? You crash into women, steal their stuff, and then stroll into their house like it's a normal Tuesday?"
He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk curving his lips. "I didn't steal your stuff, Princess. You just lost it."
"Don't call me that," I snapped.
He smiled - that infuriating, cold smile. "Then stop acting like one."
I blinked, momentarily speechless.
He looked around once more, hands in his pockets, like he owned the place. "Nice view from your window," he said casually, glancing outside. "Guess you like seeing the world from above."
"Helps me keep an eye on pests," I shot back.
That earned a quiet laugh - low and genuine this time.
"Touché."
His lips curved into that infuriating smirk. "So, you conveniently forgot to mention the little joyride and the missing weapon to your dear Papa, Miss R.R.?"
"It's none of your business, bandar, (monkey) " The word slipped out, raw and unfiltered,my cheeks burning.
A flicker of surprise, then amusement, danced in his eyes. He stopped, a few paces from me, a slow smile spreading across his face. "What did you just call me?"
"You heard me." I met his gaze, defiance hardening my own. "Bandar. Because that's what you are. A noisy, arrogant, interfering *bandar*."
He stepped closer, invading my personal space, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "If I'm a bandar, then what does that make you, chipkali ( lizard). A clingy, scuttling lizard, always trying to hide in the shadows."
My cheeks flushed with heat. "A *chipkali*? I'm not the one who needs to cling to my father's coattails to make an appearance!"
"And I'm not the one who crashes expensive cars and then cries to daddy about a 'faulty engine'." His voice dropped, a dangerous whisper.
"Keep pushing me, Raichand," I warned, "and you'll find out." My pulse quickened as I taunted him. "Bandar. Bandar. Bandar."
He glared at me, and I could see the irritation simmering beneath the surface. "Maybe I should tell your father about your little joyride and the missing gun."
My heart hammered against my ribs. He wouldn't. He couldn't. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?" He raised an eyebrow, a challenging glint in his eyes.
"Imagine your father's face when he learns his fierce Reyna, the one who claims to hate this life, actually played a dangerous game on the road, then lied about it. And lost her gun."
My breath caught in my throat. "No! Please, don't. If Papa finds out, he'll never let me out of his sight. Bodyguards everywhere. It would be a nightmare."
"So, you are afraid of bodyguards," he said, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"I'm not afraid," I insisted. "I just... I like my freedom, okay? It's the only thing that keeps me from completely losing it in this crazy life."
He didn't say anything at first. Just watched me - the kind of stare that felt like it stripped away every defense I'd ever built.
Then he took another slow step forward and I instinctively stepped back. Back, back, back, until I hit my dressing table. The edge dug into my spine as I tilted slightly. He didn't stop. He kept coming, until his body was almost touching mine. I could feel everything.
His body, a solid wall of muscle and heat, pressed against mine. The scent of him - a clean, masculine scent, mingled with something dark and spicy – filled my nostrils, intoxicating and alarming. I could feel the hard planes of his chest against my breasts, the rough texture of his trousers against my legs.
And then, unmistakably, I felt it – the undeniable, growing arousal straining against his pants. A jolt, hot and electric, shot through me. My breath hitched.
"Freedom," he murmured, eyes still locked on mine. "You talk about it like it's something you actually have."
I swallowed hard. "I do."
"Really?" he asked softly, I could feel the faint warmth of his breath against my skin. "Because from where I'm standing, you look trapped."
My pulse thundered in my ears. "You don't know me, Raichand."
He smirked - that same infuriating curve of his lips that made me want to both punch him and... something else.
"Maybe not," he said quietly. "But I'm getting there."
And then I felt it- his right hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer to him, My hands, still flat on the cool wood of the table, trembled slightly. The touch was unexpected, stealing the air right from my lungs. Oh god.
"What are you doing?" My voice was thin, reedy, barely a whisper.
He leaned in, his warm breath fanning my ear. "Teaching you a lesson, *chipkali*. About respect. About honesty.You should learn how to talk to people, Miss Rathore."
I forced myself to look up, to meet his gaze even though my heart thudded painfully in my chest. "And you should learn how to mind your own business."
As soon as I said this, his left hand, large and warm, reached up, his thumb and forefinger brushing against my jawline. My muscles tensed, anticipating. Then, he squeezed my cheeks. Right on the spot where he'd grabbed me this morning. Pain shot through me, a sharp, searing reminder of our encounter. I gasped, a strangled sound escaping my lips.
He pulled back his hand slightly, his gaze fixed on my contorted face. "Does it still hurt?" His voice, though low, held a curious blend of concern and something darker, more primal.
I couldn't speak. I just nodded, the pain stealing my breath. The pain was real, but something else, something far more potent, flared between us.
Just the two of us, trapped in a bubble of tension.
I looked up, and really looked at him for the first time. His blue eyes, the sharp angles of his face... And then my gaze landed on his lips. Full, sculpted, and... kissable? What the hell was I thinking? My eyes trailed upwards, across his jaw, and then I saw it. On his neck, just below his ear, a dark, angry hickey.
The intensity of his gaze, the raw, untamed hunger I saw there, snapped something inside me. The heat, the attraction, it was all too much. I wasn't like those girls, the ones who threw themselves at men like him. I wasn't.
Suddenly, disgust washed over me. "I'm not like those other girls, the ones who throw themselves at you." I shoved him in the chest, hard. "Move."
He stumbled back a single step, his eyes narrowing, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.
As I tried to slip past him, his hand shot out, encircling my wrist, his grip firm, unyielding. He yanked me back, pulling me hard against his chest, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs.
My body collided with his, the warmth of his skin seeping through my clothes, the thrum of his heartbeat against my ear. He leaned down, his lips brushing my temple, sending a shiver through my entire being.
"You are not my type, *chipkali*." His voice was a low growl, a dangerous warning. "So don't think I like you. Just be in your limits."
And then, with a final, dismissive shove, he released me. I staggered back, catching myself on the edge of my bed. He turned, started to walk toward the door, pausing just before leaving. His tone softened slightly, almost teasing.
"By the way," he said without turning, "your gun's safe. You'll get it back when I feel like it."
I blinked. "What- "
He glanced back, smirking. "Next time, try not to aim it at me unless you plan to shoot."
And then he was gone.
Leaving my heart racing, my mind spinning, and my body on fire.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the door.
And yet...
why did the air still smell like him?