The silence in Avni Mehta's office was rare.
No buzzing phones. No back-to-back meetings. Her schedule, unusually light for a Tuesday morning, felt like a breath she hadn't realized she needed. She leaned back in her chair, sipping warm water, her eyes drifting to the Mumbai skyline.
Her assistant had cancelled the two internal calls scheduled for the day due to 'rescheduling conflicts'—odd, but not suspicious enough to question. She made a mental note to use the time to work on the Delhi expansion report.
Then the door burst open.
"Ma'am!" her secretary, Priya, practically stumbled in. "An Italian-Indian investor is here. He says you have a scheduled meeting. He is saying that he has a deal for the Delhi. The one we want."
Avni blinked. "What? I don't have—wait, did you say Delhi?"
"Yes, ma'am. Alessandro Romano. Says he's from Italy. Security's already let him in."
Alessandro Romano?
She hadn't heard of him. No email confirmations. No pre-scheduled meeting. She processed the sudden appearance but since the Delhi deal could guarantee her the number one position, she didn't dwell on the odd circumstances and decided to take the meeting seriously. Avni cleared her throat and said, "Priya, please bring the coffee to the meeting room."
"Okay ma'am, should I tell him to wait in the meeting room?" Priya asked.
Avni nodded silently, her mind already shifting into business mode.
He walked in like he owned the air in the room.
Tall. Dark. Controlled. The charcoal-grey suit clung to him like it had been sewn onto his skin. His features were striking, but it was the way he watched her—intently, without apology—that made her pulse flicker.
"Miss Mehta," he said in a smooth Italian accent, reaching out his hand. "A pleasure."
She took it briefly, his touch lingering a second longer than hers, sending an odd flutter up her spine. "I wasn't expecting this meeting."
"I prefer surprises," he replied, smiling. "They reveal more."
"Is that so?"
"Assolutamente." (Absolutely.)
He took a seat without being asked. His posture was regal, casual in the way only truly dangerous men could afford to be. He placed a leather folder in front of her.
"Your company," he began, "has potential. But it lacks international sharpness. That's where I come in."
Avni tried to focus on the document, but his eyes didn't leave her face. Not once.
Twenty minutes passed.
She laid out a high-stakes proposal. Impressive numbers. A global connection. A gateway to dominance in the Delhi market. On paper, it was gold.
But something didn't feel right.
"Your proposal is... bold, but..." he said, his voice measured.
"It's alright, Mr. Romano," Avni said, voice steady but her heart pounding, "if you're not interested in this deal, there are others lined up. But none will get what you're being offered."
She was about to let it go. The entire meeting had caught her off guard—no time to prepare, no pre-read, just a man who felt... off. Something about his presence irked her, unsettled her, made her skin crawl in the most personal way. Better investors would come along. Investors she could predict—who didn't give off the kind of vibe that made her instincts scream.
Her jaw clenched. He might have stormed in unannounced, but she wouldn't let him control the narrative. Not in her space. Not in her world. Her voice firmed with quiet defiance.
"I'll find better investors. Ones who believe in professionalism over theatrics."
"What did you just say?" he growled, voice soaked in venom, barely containing the beast inside him. "You think they could ever offer you a fraction of what I would burn the world to give you?" Fury simmering behind his eyes, the heat of his anger radiating like a storm about to explode. He barely managed to control it—for her. Only for her.
"But I'll forgive you," he added coldly, "because I know just how much you need this deal."
He got up slowly, the chair creaking under the shift of his weight. Avni's breath caught. She was about to say something, perhaps to retort or explain, but before a single word could leave her lips, he towered over her as he leaned in, his voice dropping to something more intimate. He placed a finger gently over her lips, silencing her. Then, the pad of his thumb caressed her jawline, lingering a second too long.
Non mettermi alla prova, Avni. Ti rovinerò così dolcemente che mi supplicherai di non fermarmi mai. (Don't test me, Avni. I'll ruin you so sweetly you'll beg me never to stop.)
Avni's body stiffened. Her brain screamed at her to pull away. This wasn't right. She had a boyfriend. But her limbs didn't move. Something in his presence rooted her in place—an inexplicable gravity. She was feeling odd, rage quietly building inside her. One, because this meeting had thrown her off entirely without warning. And two, because the man standing before her gave her the creepiest vibes she'd ever felt. It would be better, she decided, to let this one go.
His fingers slid down, brushing her cheekbone, his face dipping lower, inch by inch, until she could feel his breath against her lips.
Just as he was about to kiss her, the door slammed open without a single knock.
"Ma'am!" Priya's voice rang out as she walked in holding a tray. Her eyes widened the moment she caught sight of them.
Abhimanyu's eyes narrowed in fury. "Che cazzo!" (What the fuck!) he hissed under his breath, stepping back, jaw clenched. "Cristo santo!" (Holy Christ!) His chest heaved with restrained fury. One second more and he would've kissed her — claimed what was his. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur meant only for himself. "Un altro secondo, e avrei distrutto tutto per lei…" (One more second, and I would've destroyed everything for her…)
But as his eyes flicked to Avni—still stunned, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with something between fear and confusion—he felt something snap in place. His fists curled, rage pulsed through his veins, but he forced it down. Just for her. Just this once.
Solo per te, Avni... mi fermerò. Ma non dimenticherò. (Only for you, Avni... I will stop. But I won't forget.) He forgave her interruption—but the fire within him smoldered hotter than ever."I-I'm so sorry, ma'am," Priya stammered, placing the coffee down on the table. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Avni blinked rapidly, pulling herself back into composure.
He straightened with a lazy smirk. "I look forward to our partnership." Then he bent slightly, whispering low near her ear: "Ti voglio solo per me." (I want you only for myself.)
She watched him walk away, stunned, unsettled—and inexplicably breathless.
She stood there for a long time after the door closed. She felt something boil beneath the surface—rage and confusion and... a creeping sense of being violated. The meeting had gone far beyond business. And she hadn't stopped it.
That night, she sat curled up on her couch, trying to settle her racing thoughts. She picked up her phone to call her boyfriend—paused. She wasn't sure how he'd react. Would he understand her discomfort or just brush it off as part of business?
Instead, she texted her best friend:
You will not believe what happened today.
Her best friend replied almost instantly:
Wait what?? Girl CALL me.
Avni sighed, rubbing her temple. The strange investor. The lingering touch. The whispered threats. She didn't feel like herself anymore.
And for the first time in her career, she felt something else entirely—vulnerable.
Abhimanyu's POV — Earlier that Morning
Two floors below her office, behind a mirrored wall in the security room, Abhimanyu Singh Rathore stared at the monitor. Cameras displayed every hallway, every room—her movements.
"She's alone," Matteo Ricci said behind him. "Just like you arranged."
Abhimanyu's jaw ticked. "She looks peaceful," he murmured. "That won't last."
He ran a finger over her frozen image on the screen.
"She doesn't even know she belongs to me," he whispered in Hindi. "Mujhse door rehkar saans lena bhi ek gunaah hai." (Breathing away from me is a sin.)
He turned to Matteo.
"Today she meets the mask," he said. "Tomorrow, the man."
Far away from Avni's world, an underworld gathering simmered in the shadows of a Rome mansion. The Mafia king himself received a coded message: The flame has been lit in Mumbai.
He smiled, glass of scotch in hand. "Time to move."
Abhimanyu's POV — After Leaving Her Office
The wind hit him as he exited her building, but it couldn't cool the fire raging in his chest.
She was close. Inches away. Her scent still lingered on his fingertips.
His lips twisted into a smile as he stepped into the black SUV waiting for him.
"Did you hear her voice, Matteo?" he murmured, eyes half-closed. "Soft. Curious. Unsure. I wanted to pin her against that damn glass wall and make her scream my name."
"You didn't."
"No," he growled. "Not yet."
He stared at his reflection in the window, but saw only her.
"La toccherò di nuovo. E la prossima volta… non potrà scappare." (I'll touch her again. And next time… she won't be able to run.)