CHAPTER :2

"Look at me," I said, breaking our only rule.

She did.

And something shifted in the air. Something neither of us wanted to admit.

I lost track of how long we stayed tangled—legs, lips, limbs. At some point, she flipped me. Rode me like she wanted to forget the world.I let her.

When we finally collapsed, she was on her side, staring at the ceiling like she didn’t want to look at me again.

I reached for the sheet. She pulled away.

"No staying," she said quietly.

I sat up, heartbeat still racing. "You're really gonna pretend that didn’t shake you?"

"It was sex. You’ll recover." She said

I laughed, bitter. "You're cold, you know that?"

She stood, gathering her robe. “You read the contract. I told you—no feelings.”

"You didn’t say no obsession."She paused. Just for a second.

Then walked to the door and opened it.

“Goodnight, Veer.”Not goodbye. Not see you again.

Just that one cold word.

I stepped into the hallway, heart pounding, ego bruised, cock still half-hard.

I wanted her again. Worse.

And for the first time in my life, one night wasn’t enough.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not because of what we did. But because of how it felt.

The sex? Mind-blowing. But it wasn’t just her body that stayed with me. It was the way she shut me out with such quiet finality. The way she kissed like she needed it, then acted like it meant nothing.

She disappeared by morning. No texts. No trace. No thank-you, no “let’s do that again.”

Most women I sleep with are eager for a second round. She acted like she was doing me a favor.

So, naturally, I became obsessed.

I ran for name through my assistant— i manage to find only her first name, no last name. Still, Mumbai talks. And when a woman like her walks into an auction and drops two crores without blinking, people notice.

Turns out, she didn’t just collect art—she built a damn empire curating it. Privately, under a tight alias. Gallery owners respected her. Investors feared her.

She was self-made. Untouchable.

And I wanted to touch her again.

Three days later, I found her.not by luck. By design.

There was an exclusive art gala in Lower Parel—invite-only. One of my family’s hotels was a silent sponsor. So I bought my way in.

And there she was.

Across the rooftop garden, dressed in silver silk, holding a glass of wine like it was armor. Her hair was in soft waves this time. Looser. Less guarded.

Until her eyes met mine.

I watched the flicker of annoyance cross her face. Quick. Beautiful.

She turned her back.

So I walked right up to her. "Ignoring me already? You must really miss me."

She sighed without turning. “Veer, this isn’t your playground.”

“No, but it could be yours. That is… if you weren’t so damn busy pretending you didn’t feel anything.”

She faced me then, lips tight. “What do you want?”

“You.” I said without hesitation .

“One night. We had it.”

“I’m not done.”

“That’s not my problem.”

She tried to walk away. I caught her wrist—not hard, just enough to stop her.

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but that night wasn’t just sex."

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, it was."

"Then why haven’t you forgotten it either?"

She froze.

I let go of her wrist.

“I don’t want love,” she said. “I don’t believe in it. I don’t need messy emotions. I’ve worked too hard for control, and I won’t lose it to some spoiled rich boy who thinks his desire is a compliment.”

Ouch. Direct hit. Still, I grinned.

“Good thing I don’t want love either,” I murmured, stepping closer. “Just you. Again. No hearts. No flowers. Just heat.”

Her lips parted. For a second, I saw it—want. Need. Hunger.

She blinked it away.

"You don’t know how to be casual,” she whipered. “You’re already chasing.”

“Maybe I like the hunt.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be caught.”

We stood there, locked in a war of unspoken things. Her breath was shallow. So was mine.

Then she said, "New contract. Five nights. No repeats after that. We set the rules. No ownership. No jealousy. No strings."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what do I get if I follow the rules?"

She leaned in, her lips brushing my jaw.

"Me. On my knees. In your bed. No mercy."

Fuck. “Done,” I growled.

She stepped back with a smirk. "You get the first night tomorrow. Don’t be late."

Then she walked away again—every step like a promise I intended to collect.

And I already knew:

Five nights wouldn’t be enough.

Arrived ten minutes early.

She told me not to be late, but she didn’t say anything about being eager. And hell—I was eager.

Second night of the contract. The suite was different this time—bigger, darker. Curtains drawn. Lights low. A single red candle flickered on the edge of the bed like an invitation to hell.

She stepped out from the shadows.

Black lingerie. Lace and leather. Thigh-high stockings. No words.

Kaira just walked to me, slow as sin. Yes, Kaira is the name of that fallen angel from hell . She looked at me with her dominating eyes and handed me something.

A silk tie.

“You tie me,” she whispered. “You take control. Tonight, I don’t want to think.”

I stared at her, jaw clenching.

“You trust me that much?” I asked, voice husky.

“I don’t trust anyone,” she said, eyes locked on mine. “That’s why I want you to take it from me.”

I moved behind her, slid the tie around her wrists, and bound them gently—but tight enough to remind her she wasn’t in charge anymore.

She let out a slow breath, like surrender tasted better than control.

I guided her to the bed, sat her on the edge, and dropped to my knees.

"You wanted this, kaira ?" I murmured, parting her thighs. “All of me. No mercy.”

She exhaled sharply as I kissed the inside of her knee, then higher. My mouth moved slow. Teasing. Her hands were tied, but her hips tried to chase my tongue.

When I finally tasted her, she gasped. A soft, strangled sound that broke every defense she’d built. I held her legs wide as I devoured her, flicking and circling and pulling more of those gorgeous sounds out of her.

Her thighs trembled.

But she didn’t beg.

Not yet.

When I pulled back, her lips were parted, eyes glassy.

“You want to come?” I asked.She nodded.

I leaned in close. “Then ask.”

She hesitated. “No feelings. No power games—”

“This isn’t power,” I growled. “This is surrender. And you’re craving it.”

Her jaw clenched. Then, softly—

“Please, Veer…”

Fuck.

I untied her, flipped her onto her stomach, and pulled her hips up. She looked back over her shoulder, hair wild, lips bruised from my kisses.

I slid into her from behind, slow and deep.

Her moan hit me straight in the chest.

I gripped her waist, drove into her harder, deeper, faster. The sound of our skin, her breathless gasps, the filthy things I whispered in her ear—mine, deeper, louder—it was all a rhythm I never wanted to end.

She came violently, shaking against me, calling out my name like it betrayed her.

I followed with a grunt, spilling inside her, losing myself completely.

For a moment, we were just two bodies—sweat and heartbeat, tangled limbs and silence.

She lay still, catching her breath.

I brushed her hair off her back. “You okay?”

Her voice was quiet. “You didn’t have to untie me.”

“I wanted to feel you grab me when you fell apart.”

She didn’t respond.

I watched her eyes flicker up to the ceiling like she was building her walls back, brick by brick.

“Don’t stay,” she said finally.

I nodded. “Not tonight.”

But I didn’t move right away.