PRESENT

MUMBAI

ANIRUDH

“Marja, you asshole!” she spat before abruptly ending the call. I couldn't help but chuckle, shaking my head. Don’t worry, Vakeel Madam, you don’t have to marry me, I mused to myself.

As I sipped my coffee, I dialed another number. The line connected almost instantly. “Everything looks good, boss,” he reported, preempting my questions. “Good,” I replied with a smirk. “I’ll head to the art exhibition then.” I ended the call, my mind already shifting gears.

Art had always held a special place in my heart, a lingering connection to my mother, who was an artist. Mom, I clenched my jaw and rose from my seat. He will pay for this.

7 p.m.

I stepped into the exhibition hall, scanning the expansive space of this mansion-like venue. An array of artwork adorned the walls, with avid spectators gathered around pieces that caught their fancy.

I wandered from one end to the other, soaking in the atmosphere, eventually finding myself in a quieter section where only a few people lingered. This area showcased the works of smaller artists, which likely explained its emptiness.

Suddenly, my steps froze as my gaze landed on a woman at the far end of the gallery, engrossed in a small portrait before her.

My steps turn towards her on their own as I take her in. She wore a pink vest and trousers, her hair neatly tied back in a ponytail that cascaded down to her waist.

I positioned myself beside her to glimpse what had captured her attention. The portrait depicted a small girl hunched in the corner of a dim room, her head bowed, knees drawn to her chest. What about this scene held her fascination?

I turned my head toward her, and my pulse quickened, racing like a teenager high on adrenaline. If she was beautiful from afar, she was utterly enchanting up close. Am I really describing a stranger this way? What the fuck Anirudh?

She must have felt my gaze, for she turned to face me. Our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. Her kohled eyes held mine, and I found myself unable to look away. My phone buzzed with a message I was waiting for the whole evening, I looked at it and well…shit.

YUVIKA

My breath hitched as our gazes locked, and I couldn't help but think how much more breathtaking he was in person. What the hell, Yuvi? Stop! He's your mission, remember?

I quickly averted my eyes to the painting on the wall, trying to regain my composure. "Lost Child by Kartik," he read aloud, his voice smooth as silk yet heavy like musk. I remained silent, lost in my thoughts.

"Do you think I should buy it?" he asked, adding in when I remained silent. Typical XY chromosome behavior. I exhaled heavily before responding, "If you want it, then go for it." My eyes stayed fixated on the painting.

There was something about this portrait that struck a chord within me. The girl depicted looked so familiar, so strikingly similar to- "Hmm, I think I will," he said, turning to face me fully, his movements fluid and confident.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Anirudh Singhania." He extended his gloved hand towards me, and I raised an eyebrow. Who wears gloves with a suit? Is he a clean freak or something? Even though I have seen his pictures, I haven't noticed the gloves before.

I shook his hand and gave a slight nod. "Nice to meet you, Anirudh." I deliberately omitted my name, which caused his eyebrows to rise in curiosity. Step one—make him intrigued. Mission accomplished.

"Are you from Mumbai?" he asked, releasing my hand. "Nope, I'm from Delhi, currently studying in Mumbai," I replied, starting to roam the hall, fully expecting him to follow and he did.

"What are you studying?" he inquired as we explored various sections of the exhibition. "I'm doing a master's in computer science." My steps were slow, yet he mirrored my pace effortlessly.

"So you'll be here for a while then," he stated, as I turned to face him. "For two years, yes. Why do you ask?" I sensed a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just curious about how much time I've got to pursue you," he teased, and I couldn't help but break into a small smile. "Am I a degree that you want to pursue, Mr. Singhania?" I raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Maybe? It's never too late to get a master's degree, is it?" A laugh escaped my lips. So, he had humor along with that pretty face? I'm in trouble.

"Nope, unless it's illegal, then it might be a problem," I replied, subtly returning to the underlying message he'd hinted at. "That wouldn't be a problem," he replied, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Of course, it wouldn't be. From what I’d heard, he’d dabbled in almost every illegal activity imaginable, and here he was, standing tall in front of me. So, dating someone younger than him would be the least illegal thing on his agenda.

"Well, I have to leave now. It was nice meeting you," I said, deliberately creating distance between us. Step two—let him chase. I offered a polite smile before turning to walk away.

If what I'd heard about him was true, and if my theory was correct, this psycho wouldn't chase after me right now. Instead, he'd dig into my life and terrorize me starting tomorrow and I have a feeling I'm right this time.

______

ANIRUDH

It's been ages since I felt this nervous around a woman, but this twenty-one-year-old had somehow managed to get me unnerved yesterday to the point that I had to find out everything about her.

Now, I sat in my office, studying her file while sipping my coffee. Her father was a software engineer, and her mother a housewife. She’d lived in Delhi her entire life before moving to Mumbai for her master's. Such a normal life, yet somehow, she crossed paths with me?

But you're the one who went to her, not the other way around, a voice in my head challenged me. Hmm, maybe? But ab aa chuki hain raste mein toh kese Jane de? A sly smile formed at my lips as I got up and walked towards the door.

(But if she has already crossed paths with me now then how can I let go?)

An hour later, I entered the house, sliding my gloves on. Zoya glared at me from the couch. "What?" I asked, moving closer.

I settled in front of her, spreading my legs wide and draping my arm across the armrest. "You only know that single word, huh?" She set aside her phone and crossed her arms.

"Why? Do you want to have some romantic conversations with me now? What happened to 'I don't want to marry you?'" I threw her words from yesterday back at her. For someone who's a lawyer, she's surprisingly easy to rile up.

"Not even if you're the last person on the planet," she shot back, getting to her feet. She strides towards the stairs but halts as her father walks out, my jaw tightening as I stared at him.

"You're here," he said, I get up to shake his hand, forcing a tight smile. Just two more days, I reminded myself. "Come here, Zoya," he ordered, and she obeyed.

"Why did you change the theme?" His question was directed at Zoya, who looked confused. "The wedding theme? It was pastel before you changed it to red. Why?" he pressed when she remained silent. I couldn’t care less about the theme, but I stayed quiet and let them talk.

"I didn't. In fact, I didn't even know the theme was pastel," she insisted, her demeanor suggesting she was telling the truth. "But the wedding planner said you asked him to do so last night." I rested my gloved fingers on my lips, already bored with the conversation.

"I don't know, maybe I did when I was drunk yesterday." She looked at me as if I were the one behind the change. If only she knew she was just a pawn in my game, one I didn’t give a fuck about. But if she didn't do it, then who did? Is there something I'm not seeing right now? Or rather, someone?

My mind drifted toward a certain doe-eyed brunette as I sat there, listening to Rajiv lecture about how she was sabotaging the wedding with last-minute changes.

An hour and two thousand questions about the wedding later, I finally headed to see my Yuvi—nope, not calling her that until she gives me her name.

My phone buzzed as I plugged in my AirPods and answered the call. "The Pakhan wants to speak with you," Rishab, my right-hand man and one of my oldest friends, stated, cutting straight to the point.

"Okay, connect us," I replied, pulling up my car. "Good afternoon, Mr. Singhania," the Pakhan greeted. "Good afternoon, Mr. Baranov." Sergei Baranov is the Pakhan of the Russian mafia, one of the most powerful mafia leaders Russia has seen in a while. We already have business in place but expanding it would be a significant blow to my empire.

Despite our fathers' connections, the trade has always been a lot shadier than I prefer. Dealings in weaponry, drugs, and narcotics are one thing, but dealing in humans? That’s a path I refuse to cross, no matter the cost. "You're just like him", her voice echoes in my mind. I shake my head.

"Did you change your mind yet?" he asked from the other end. "No," I replied honestly. Smuggling humans was my father's forte, not mine. "You're just like him," I grit my teeth.

"Then I'm sorry, but we can't keep up with you alone. You either expand your business in different areas or join the syndicate your father once had." He repeated what he said a week ago. Joining the syndicate would mean joining hands with him, and I'd rather let my empire fall than do that.

"I'm about to take over the Malhotras, who were also part of the syndicate. What else do we need?" I questioned. Part of my plan involved taking over the Malhotras, which is why I orchestrated this wedding.

Rajiv dealt in luxury black market goods, which would give my business a swift boost if I take over that sector too.

"Yes, but if you're already joining hands with him, then why not the other side as well?" For a Russian mafia leader, he seemed unable to read between the lines. I never said I was joining hands; I said I was taking over.

"It's not possible. If you want to continue our dealings, then take your time and come to the same page as me," or we'll cut ties I said, leaving the unspoken part hanging in the air. My empire has the biggest dealings with the Russian mafia for weaponry, and now I plan to expand into luxury goods as well. So, saying no isn't an option for him, yet I let him take his time because, in the end, no one says no to me.

"Well then, have a great wedding, Mr. Singhania," Baranov said before we ended our call. The merging of the Singhania and Malhotra families is the current highlight of the underworld. Everyone knows this wedding is happening because of our empires. Rajiv needs a son-in-law, and I'm happy to be one if it means I can finally quench my thirst for revenge.

I exhaled a heavy breath as I pulled up on the road, driving toward my newfound obsession. A devious smile stretched across my lips.

---

YUVIKA

"I'm bored," Yukti sighed beside me, staring blankly at the professor. "Me too," I replied with a sigh of my own. Pretending to know nothing while actually being an expert is the most tedious task imaginable for anyone, and by 'anyone,' I mean me.

This master's degree is just a facade I have to maintain for my mission, and sitting through this lecture seems like the hardest part. "Should we go somewhere?" Yukti suggested, a friend I made in this dull course.

"After this class," I replied. I've known her for four months now; she's the closest thing to a friend I've found. But if she ever discovers who I truly am? No, let's not think about that right now.

A message popped up on my phone, pulling me from my thoughts. It was from an unknown number.

Unknown: Come out when your classes are done. I'm waiting outside your university.

A smirk appeared on my face. Fash gai machli.