Advik :-
My head was pounding. My eyes opened to a room that looked like a crime scene of last night's chaos - an overturned glass on the nightstand, a jacket on the floor, and lipstick-stained tumbler half-filled with melted ice.
And her.
A girl I couldn't name, lying beside me, her hair spilling over the pillow like a shadow.
Her breathing was slow, steady, peaceful - the kind of peace I hadn't known in years.
I didn't feel anything. Not guilt. Not regret. Not even satisfaction.
Just emptiness.
That's the problem with flings - they end exactly the same way they start.
Meaningless
The clock blinked 8:42 a.m.
"Shit."
I sat up, pressing a hand to my forehead. The hangover pounded like a dull drum behind my temples.
My phone buzzed.
Kabir Raichand - my uncle.
Of course.
"Advik, get your damn self here fast. The dealers are already waiting."
I was supposed to be at the Raichand estate by nine. My uncle, the man who doesn't believe in patience - had already called twice.
I grabbed a glass of black coffee, ran a hand through my hair, and muttered under my breath, "If he starts the deal without me, I'll shoot someone."
The girl stirred slightly, mumbling something half-asleep. I didn't bother replying. She'd wake up to an empty room and an unsigned note - same as always.
She frowned in confusion. "Advik..."
"Not now," I cut her off sharply, swinging my legs out of bed. The marble floor felt cold against my bare feet.
Black shirt. Watch. Wallet. Car keys.
I never needed more than that.
As I buttoned up, I caught my reflection in the mirror - tousled hair, blue eyes clouded with the exhaustion of too many nights and too few reasons.
For a second, I wondered how I'd ended up like this.
Surrounded by people.
Yet completely alone.
I pushed the thought away. Emotions were a luxury I couldn't afford - not in this world, not with my name.
By the time I stepped into the parking lot, the sun had already begun to burn through the Mumbai haze.
The Red Ferrari 458 gleamed under it - my one constant, my one escape.
The engine roared to life, smooth and deadly.
I slid on my sunglasses, pressing the accelerator a little harder than necessary.
The streets blurred.
The hangover faded under the rush of speed.
But my mind stayed restless.
I hated mornings like this - the silence, the leftover memories of a night I couldn't remember, and the weight of a legacy I couldn't escape.
Then out of nowhere she appeared.
A Black BMW, cutting through the road like a streak of fire. Too fast. Too reckless. Too bold.
And then the crash.
Screeching tires. The sharp slam of metal against metal.
I slammed the brakes just in time to see her step out - fury wrapped in beauty.
I cursed under my breath, slammed my hand on the steering wheel, and stepped out of the car, anger pulsing through my veins like electricity.
And for a heartbeat, I forgot how to react. I was angry but when I saw her, her cheeks red as tomato due to this mini accident something shifted inside me. Wavy brown hair, white shirt, blue jeans hugging her frame. She didn't look scared - she looked ready to fight.
And of course how I could forget the argument that followed,
I could still hear it echoing in my head. Her voice sharp, fearless. Her eyes - challenging, burning with the kind of defiance people usually lose around me.
But when she disrespected me -when she threw those words at me, I lost control. That was it. Something inside me snapped. I didn't even realize my hand had reached out until my fingers gripped her jaw, holding her face firmly, tilting her chin up. My voice was ice. I reacted the wrong way, maybe. But I don't regret it. She deserved it. She talked too much.
That moment - the fire, the glare
When I said,
"If you can't handle speed, you shouldn't be driving something like this,"
I wasn't trying to provoke her.
But she looked at me like I'd just declared war.
And God, she didn't disappoint.
That sharp tongue, that fire in her eyes - she was furious, beautiful, and absolutely infuriating.
Most people flinched when I raised my voice.
She didn't even blink.
But then... she did something I didn't expect.
When she reached into her bag, I expected another comeback - not a gun.
The world paused for a heartbeat.
Small, sleek, dangerous - much like the woman holding it.
My lips curved before I could stop myself.
She didn't realize it, but her hands were shaking. Not with fear but with pride. She wanted control, and she hated that she'd lost it for even a second.
So I took the gun. Smoothly. Easily. Just to see how far I could push her.
Her glare could've burned through steel.
And when I told her,
> "These aren't toys. Not for fragile, arrogant girls,"
the words had come out colder than I meant.
She looked like she wanted to kill me.
And maybe that's what made me smirk as I walked away.
Now, as the Ferrari hummed along the highway, her face kept replaying in my mind.
I didn't know her name. Didn't know her family.
But I still had her gun sitting in the passenger seat.
I turned it over in my hand, tracing the initials carved at the base — R.R.
"R.R.," I muttered, smirking faintly. "Who the hell are you?"
The initials mocked me.
The memory of her glare mocked me even more.
That girl.
That tiny storm who thought she could aim a gun at me and walk away.
I leaned back in the driver's seat, exhaling sharply through my nose.
"R.R.," I muttered under my breath, a humorless smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Whoever you are, you're nothing but trouble."
The sunlight glinted off the barrel as I placed it on the dashboard.
"Chipkali," I said to the empty car, the insult rolling off my tongue with quiet irritation. "Short-tempered, loud, thinks she owns the road."
I shook my head, muttering again, "Definitely not my type."
{ And yet, the moment he said it, her face - those furious eyes, that fire in her voice — replayed in his mind like an unwanted echo.
The corner of his mouth twitched, caught between a smirk and a scowl.}
I revved the engine once more, as if the roar could drown her out of his head.
"Forget her," he told himself, eyes on the road.
He had bigger things to focus on - a deal to close, a name to protect.
And for the first time in a long time... I wasn't just angry.
I was intrigued.
That girl wasn't supposed to matter.
Reyna :-
The morning air was thick with the scent of burnt rubber and regret. The BMW's hood hissed softly where the crash had kissed metal. My pulse was still racing, anger clawing up my throat.
Across the road stood him - blue-eyed arrogance wrapped in black, the kind of man who looked at chaos like it was his playground. He didn't flinch, didn't apologize. Just stared - cold, unreadable and walked away with my gun.
I didn't even realize Maya was yelling my name until she grabbed my arm.
"Reyna! Reyna, are you okay?!"
I blinked, shaking myself back into reality. Her voice sounded distant against the hum of my rage.
"That bandar (monkey) crashed into me," I snapped, yanking open the door of my car. "And then had the audacity to walk away like I was the problem!"
Maya's eyes darted from the dented BMW to me, then to the disappearing Ferrari. "Reyna... please breathe. You're shaking."
"I'm fine," I lied, slamming the door shut harder than necessary. My heart was hammering. Fine was a word that didn't even come close.
Maya circled around to the passenger seat, sliding in quickly. "You just pointed a gun at a random man in the middle of the road!" she whispered harshly. "And now he has your gun! What are you going to tell your dad?"
Her words hit like bullets.
My father.
Rajveer Rathore - the name that could freeze a room and empty a street. I swallowed hard, started the engine, and muttered, "I'll tell him nothing. He doesn't need to know."
"Reyna-"
"I said nothing, Maya!"
The car lurched forward, and we drove the rest of the way in silence. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Maya fidgeted beside me, biting her lip but wisely choosing not to push further.
By the time we reached the college gates, my anger had cooled into something heavier - humiliation. The Rathore name hung over this place like a crown. The college my father and Maya's father built together -a fortress of power disguised as education.
As we stepped out, whispers followed us like shadows. People didn't talk to us - they talked about us.
"Reyna Rathore," someone murmured behind me, "the mafia princess herself."
I ignored it, walking faster. Maya tried to lighten the air.
"At least your mascara didn't run," she joked weakly.
I shot her a look that could kill. "Not the time, Maya."
She sighed. "Okay, okay. But please, calm down. You'll draw attention."
"Too late for that," I muttered under my breath.
The entire morning passed in fragments - lectures I didn't hear, notes I didn't take, conversations I didn't join. All I could see was that smug expression and the way he'd said it - It's mine now.
Mine.
The audacity.
When the final bell rang, I was out of my seat before the sound even faded. Maya followed, still watching me cautiously.
"Reyna, maybe just tell your dad the car...."
"....was scratched in the parking lot," I interrupted. "And the gun? Lost. Somewhere. I'll think of something."
"Reyna..."
I turned to her, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. "Relax, Maya. I've gotten away with worse."
She didn't look convinced, but she let it go.
We walked together to the parking lot. My backup car waited there - A SUV that felt like a downgrade after the BMW. I slid into the driver's seat, leaned back, and exhaled sharply.
"Bandar," I whispered, the word slipping out like venom. "Bloody, arrogant, overgrown bandar."
Maya snorted beside me. "You're obsessed."
"I'm angry, not obsessed."
"Sure," she said with a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "That's what all girls say before they fall in love with the wrong guy."
I shot her a glare, but she was already laughing.
The drive home was short - too short. Because the moment our gate came into view, my laughter died in my throat.
There it was.
A red Ferrari parked by the entrance, gleaming under the afternoon sun.
I hit the brakes, heart lurching. My hands froze on the wheel.
Maya followed my gaze and whispered, "Isn't that-?"
"Yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "That's his."
My pulse spiked. Every muscle in my body tensed.
"He wouldn't," Maya murmured. "Would he?"
"Oh, he would," I said bitterly. "Because men like him don't just take - they ruin."
For a moment, I couldn't move. The guards stood straighter, adjusting their uniforms. The air itself seemed to hum with something heavy.
If he was here... if he'd come to complain to my father-
"Reyna," Maya said softly, "maybe it's just coincidence."
I forced a laugh that sounded hollow. "In my world, Maya, nothing is coincidence."
I stepped out of the car, chin high, pulse unsteady.
The red Ferrari gleamed back at me, bold and unapologetic.
He was here.
And whatever he wanted - it wasn't going to be simple.