The Search

Priya was at home, trying to study, but her mind was a battlefield. A stranger had barged into her life, and now his number was calling her phone. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine—she knew it was him. She answered, her voice tight.

"Hello?"

"Priya." His voice was a low, seductive rumble. "You knew it was me."

Priya's breath hitched. She tightened her grip on the phone, the plastic cold against her flushed fingers. "You're not supposed to call me," she said, her voice laced with defiance, even as her heart was doing a frantic dance. "Unless you've found the book."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Priya could almost feel his smirk.

"I haven't," Arjun said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Not yet. But I have found something else."

Priya's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"You," he said, the single word a velvet hammer. "I've found that I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice, the way your eyes burned with fire when I ruined your book. That stubborn little chin of yours. I've found that I'm obsessed."

The air around Priya felt thick, charged. She could almost feel his presence, hear the steady beat of his heart. He was an expert at this—at getting what he wanted. His words were a key, and he was using them to unlock something inside her she hadn't realized was so tightly guarded.

"You can't say things like that," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We don't even know each other."

His laugh was a low, husky sound that sent a jolt of pure heat straight through her. "And whose fault is that?" he challenged, his voice laced with amusement. "We have a week, remember? And I don't have time to waste on books when I have a beautiful woman who won't give me the time of day. So tell me, Priya. What's your favorite food?"

Priya hung up the phone, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She leaned against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut, a single thought echoing in her mind: I am in so much troubleThe phone clattered onto the table, its plastic body a stark reminder of the conversation that had just happened. Priya stood frozen in her living room, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. The silence in the room was a deafening roar, filled with the echo of his voice. "I'm in love with you, no no obsessed," he'd said, and the words had a weight to them she couldn't shake. He hadn't just said them to flatter her; he'd said them like a promise, like a threat.

She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling. Her body felt strangely alive, tingling with a heat that had nothing to do with the summer air. She was furious with herself for letting him get to her, for even for a second, feeling a thrill at his arrogance. She was a serious student with serious problems, not some character in a story, and he was an entitled businessman who was just playing a game.

He was going to find the book. He was going to show up at her door with a perfectly wrapped package, a smug look on his face, and then he was going to expect something in return. And she was going to be ready. She was going to return the book, thank him coldly, and then she was going to shut the door on him and his dangerous obsession for good. She had to.Two days after the phone call, Priya was still on edge. She jumped at every sound, half-expecting the phone to ring, half-praying it wouldn't. She had tried to focus on her studies, but her mind kept replaying his voice, the low rumble of his laugh, the way he'd said her name.

A sharp knock at her front door shattered the quiet. Her heart leaped into her throat. She peered through the peephole and froze. It was Arjun. He wasn't in a suit this time. He wore a simple dark t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, and his hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He looked less like a businessman and more like a predator, waiting patiently for his prey.

She took a deep breath, her hands clenching into fists. She wasn't going to let him intimidate her. She opened the door, a wall of cool defiance.

"I found it," he said, his eyes scanning her face, his gaze lingering on her parted lips. He held up a small, perfectly wrapped package. "I told you I would."

Priya felt a flicker of surprise, followed by a surge of anger. He had done it. He had played her game, and he had won. She reached for the package, but he pulled it back just out of her reach.

"Not so fast," he said, his voice a low, husky drawl. "There's something we need to discuss first."

He took a step forward, and she instinctively took a step back, her spine hitting the cold wall behind her. He placed a hand on the wall beside her head, trapping her. He was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the subtle scent of his expensive cologne.

"You hung up on me," he said, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. "That wasn't part of the deal. You gave me your number, you gave me a week, and then you hung up on me."

Priya's breath hitched. She could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, a slow, steady rhythm that was completely at odds with the frantic pace of her own heart. "You were being inappropriate," she whispered.

"Was I?" he challenged, his lips a breath away from hers. "Or was I just being honest? Tell me, Priya. When I was on the phone, telling you that I couldn't stop thinking about you, did you want me to stop?"

The question hung in the air, a silent challenge. His eyes, dark and intense, were searching hers, demanding an answer. He was dangerously close, a fire waiting to ignite, and all she had to do was give him a single word.

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