Chapter 6
6
Dubai
One week later
E ver since she’d gotten back, work had been so hectic that Navya had barely gotten to spend time at home. She’d been working late most nights, only to come home for a quick bite and some sleep. It had become her routine. But she didn’t mind it. Her work was her passion and the one thing that made her wake up every morning. And being busy meant less time to think of… She stopped herself in time.
She glanced outside her car window, taking in the passing sights as her chauffeur drove her to the venue of an event. Tonight was the first time in the week that she’d actually stepped out of her house to socialize. And what an exciting night it was going to be. The first of many more, she hoped.
Her phone rang. It was Reina. Smiling, she joined the group video call. Both her sisters came online. While Reina was walking down a corridor dressed in hospital scrubs, Ananya had the camera pointed to the ceiling.
“Girls, I’ll be there in a minute…” Ananya dashed a quick look into the camera and dropped her phone again. “I have to send an email.”
Ananya was in the media business, and her work hours were all over the place. A few years ago, she’d started a fashion magazine, Noir Fashion , which was slowly but surely becoming famous.
“Hi, Reina,” Navya said. “It’s been a week and we’ve barely spoken to you.”
“You left at the right time, Navya!” Reina sighed. “It’s been crazy since then. I’ve been working nonstop. The hospital has been inundated with patients coming in with accidents. I’ve assisted on so many surgeries that I’ve lost count.”
“Ok, I’m here now.” Ananya adjusted the camera, and finally, Navya could see her better. Navya noted that her elder sister was still in her room, dressed in her PJs, and working, exactly as Navya had left her.
“Ananya, did you eat dinner?” Navya asked, studying her.
“Not yet. I’m not hungry,” Ananya replied.
Worry flickered over her. On video, Ananya looked tired. The bags under her eyes were deeper, and her face looked thinner. Her sister wasn’t eating well. Four years back, Ananya had been healthy and smiling. But now… Navya hated how lacklustre Ananya had become. Navya knew what ailed Ananya. She was suffering from heartache. Ananya was pining over a man who wanted nothing to do with her, and what was worse was that he thought she’d deceived him.
Navya felt so helpless. She didn’t know how to lift her sister’s spirits. After all, she was the one who’d caused Ananya’s misery. Had she not encouraged her to meet Mihir Oshnov four years ago, Ananya wouldn’t be so sad now.
“You need to take care of yourself,” Navya said carefully. “You promised you’d eat when I left.”
“And I will. Just not now.”
Over the call, Navya shared a look with Reina. Ananya noticed it and said, “Girls, stop worrying about me. I’m fine. By the way, I’m mad at you. Why didn’t you tell me about that incident? How could you keep something like that from me?”
“Navya, you told her?” Reina said.
“Reina, why did you tell her?” Navya said at the same time.
Ananya chuckled. “Caught you. I knew you both were behaving cagey. Neither of you was willing to talk about that New Year’s Eve party you went to. You kept brushing it off, and I figured something was up. So out with it. I need answers.”
“Nothing happened,” Reina and Navya said at the same time.
Ananya arched a brow. “Invoking elder sister rights here. What the hell is going on? Is it a man? I’m sure it’s a man. Who is he, and which one of you is involved?”
Fuck. Ananya was too damn clever.
Reina raised her hand up. “It’s not me, for sure. My work keeps me so busy that I have no time for myself, much less a man.”
Ananya’s gaze narrowed on Navya. “So, it’s you. Who is it?”
Shit. Navya had deliberately not told Ananya about the party and meeting the Oshnovs. Both Reina and she had decided that the less she knew about the Oshnovs, and especially Mihir, the better it was for her. But now she’d caught them keeping secrets from her; hence, keeping Ananya in the dark was no longer an option.
“Look…” Navya began. Just then, her driver stopped the car in front of the Sehgal Plaza Hotel. Navya peered outside.
“I have to go,” Navya said. “I’ve reached the venue. But I promise we will talk when I’m home, okay?”
“You better,” Ananya said.
“I’ve gotta go too,” Reina said. “They’re paging my name. I’ll talk to you both when I can.”
Navya disconnected the call and climbed out of the car. She was worried about how Ananya would react when she told her about her interactions with the Oshnovs. However, that was a subject to ponder over later. Right now, she needed to ensure she was on top of her game. Entering the elevator, Navya pressed the button for the banquet hall.
She took a moment to study herself in the mirrored wall across from her. Her beige pre-draped sari, worn with a golden strappy, embellished corset, looked on point. Her makeup was flawless, accentuating her eyes, and her hair was pinned up perfectly with a few soft strands framing her face. She looked elegant and stylish. The lift dinged on her floor. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward. The thigh-high slit in the skirt of her sari parted to show a hint of her left leg as she moved. She looked good. Tonight, more than ever, she needed to look the part of a successful fashion stylist.
She entered the hall and looked around in awe. The invite mentioned that the show tonight was an ‘ode to spring’. Hence, the entire theme for the night was floral. Bouquets of burgundy and soft pink flowers set over dark green vines flowed from everywhere. Arches of those flowers and vines were wound around doors and railings. Huge urns were set up with bouquets of the same selection. Far ahead in the front, the same burgundy and pink flowers and green vines decorated the sides of the mirrored ramp around which rows of seating were set up for the fashion show later. She’d walked into paradise. It was all surreal and so beautiful.
A small band was playing soft music from the side while smartly dressed servers served drinks and appetizers. She studied the crowd already present there. Her heart stumbled as she recognized the faces around her. The who’s who of the fashion world were all gathered there—models, photographers, fashion stylists. She even spotted stars from various film industries across the globe.
The people here were not the regular run-of-the-mill celebrities. These people were at the top in their fields. After all, Jacques Namura was known to be selective in whom he invited for his shows, and he only invited the best among the best. For her to even have received the invite was like a dream come true. His invites were coveted by everyone, for only an elite few received them every year.
Excitement buzzed through her veins. She, Navya Mehra, was here at one of the most exclusive events hosted in the fashion world. She hadn’t stopped jumping in glee ever since her assistant Lavina had oh so casually dropped the embossed white invite on her desk two days ago. She’d taken one look at the logo and screeched. For Jacques Namura to even know of her meant she was doing something right. Fate had thrown her a unique opportunity. Tonight could be the beginning of something new—new possibilities, new connections—and she was going to walk inside, ready to take on whatever was thrown her way.
She turned when someone called her name. Navya pasted a smile on her face as she came face to face with Rehana Haddad, the reigning model on the Middle Eastern fashion ramps.
“Navya, habibti , how are you?” Rehana air kissed Navya’s cheeks. “Fancy seeing you here. How popular have you become to be invited tonight? You weren’t there last year, right? It was all so beautifully organized then too.”
She ignored the model’s subtle jab that Navya wasn’t on the guest list the previous year, while Rehana, of course, had attended. Navya was well acquainted with the famous model. She’d bumped into her several times over the years at various events across the Middle East. The woman was a diva through and through, and she liked reminding people that she was someone of import. Which she was. She was extremely famous and a trendsetter.
“Rehana, you look lovely,” Navya said. “Love your outfit. Versace looks good on you.”
The other woman adjusted the bodice of her silver sequinned gown, preening under Navya’s attention.
“You have a good eye, as always. I like what you’re wearing too,” Rehana touched the sari folds that fell from Navya’s shoulder in a waterfall of gold silk. “What designer is this?”
“It’s Qumiss, an upcoming and very promising designer from India. I like to promote designers from my country.”
“Hmm,” the other woman ran her gaze down Navya. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Right now, I have to say hello to some people before I go backstage to change. I’m the showstopper again this year.”
Navya gave her a nod and a smile, watching her saunter away. It would be so great if she could work with Rehana. Whoever the model worked with was instantly coveted by others in the profession. But the model was known to be picky and extremely fussy with whom she worked. Well, hopefully, someday, she would get to work with someone of Rehana’s stature. Accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server, she walked deeper inside the vast hall.
After two more glasses of champagne, she was absolutely delighted with how the night was progressing. She’d spoken to various men and women, many of whom were not from the fashion industry, but were at the event as guests and clients of this exclusive designer. She even got talking with a Lebanese film actress who’d expressed a keen interest in her work.
A lot of her time also went into interacting with several of her contemporaries from the industry. Some of them had always behaved superior to her, but now they looked at her as an equal because she was here tonight. She couldn’t believe that one invite had the power to change the perception of people, but it did. She looked around searching for the designer who’d invited her, but couldn’t see him anywhere.
One of her clients, an Arabic TV actress, waved at her from across the hall. Smiling, she took a step toward her when someone took her name.
“Navya!”
She turned to the voice, and her smile vanished. With absolutely zero enthusiasm, she addressed the man in front of her.
“Hello, Ozan.”
Bloody hell. Of all the people she had to run into tonight, it had to be him. How the hell had she not considered that she’d end up meeting him here? Ozan Kaya was one of the most famous photographers on this side of the world, so of course, he’d be invited tonight. Unfortunately, he was also the very same man she’d gone on that regretful date a few weeks ago.
She sighed. She hadn’t thought much when she’d agreed to go out with him. He was good looking, but not drop-dead gorgeous. He was rich but not over-the-top rich. He spoke well and they shared common interests, namely their love of fashion. In short, he fit her type. He’d taken her to an Arabic restaurant where he’d spent an awful lot of time talking about himself. She’d been bored in the first half an hour, yet had prodded along the evening, hoping it would get better. But it hadn’t. And now, after ignoring his texts and messages for days, she was stuck facing him again.
Ozan stepped closer to her. His blue eyes took her in from top to toe. A hungry look crossed his face, like he was mentally undressing her. She was utterly revolted by it and him. What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to go out with him? When he came closer, she backed a surreptitious step.
“I’ve called you so many times. You never reply,” he said. “Not even a text.”
“I’ve been busy… You know how it is.”
That night, on the way back, he’d stopped the car in front of her house and tried to touch her inappropriately and kiss her. It had sorely pissed her off. Added to that was the disgusting fact that his breath had reeked of garlic, thanks to the extra topping of garlic sauce he’d added to his shawarma. Ugh, no. She’d been thoroughly put off.
She wasn’t a hook-up kind of a woman, and she definitely didn’t kiss a man on the first date. And yet she’d kissed… No, that wasn’t a date, and no, she was so not going there.
He slung his camera around his neck. “Women don’t dismiss me.”
Good to know she was the first. However, there was no way she was creating a scene with him here. It would reflect badly on her career if the guests here saw her arguing with him. He was famous, she wasn’t.
“Are you working tonight?” she deflected.
“Yes.” He gave her a hard smile. “You look beautiful. Meet me at the bar upstairs after the show. You have to make up to me for running off that night and then ignoring me.”
That night, when she’d refused to kiss him, he’d tried to force her. In the end, she’d pushed him off of her, climbed out of the car, and rushed inside the gate of her house. And that had been the end of that miserable experience. But now, this man stood in front of her acting like he was God’s gift to womankind and that she ought to simply bow to his wishes. Not happening. Not in a million years.
“It was nice meeting you,” Navya said. “But I have plans for tonight.”
“Cancel them.”
Fucking asshole. How dare he think he could dictate to her?
He came forward to touch her cheek, and she retreated several steps.
“Don’t touch me,” she lowered her voice. “Since you want me to spell it out, understand once and for all that I will never go out with you. Are we clear?”
Eyes flashing with fury, she backed two more steps and slammed straight up into a hard chest. Large, rough hands touched the bare skin of her arms and static burst over her skin. She inhaled. The scent of oud and leather invaded her nose. Delicious. Even before she looked to the side, she knew it was him .
Her breath caught. He was here. God. Armaan was here. After returning from London, she’d been trying her best to forget about him and the feelings he invoked in her. His scent, his touch, his kiss… Well, forgetting him had been an epic failure. No matter how hard she tried to immerse herself in her work, he was never out of her mind.
Added to that, like a complete moron, she’d even sniffed his coat—the one he’d wrapped her in—a time or two. Like a fool, instead of leaving it in London or tossing it into a bin, she’d brought it home with her. And now, it was wrapped on a chair in her bedroom. She told herself daily that she’d dispose of it, yet she hadn’t done so.
When a week had passed and she hadn’t heard from him, she’d thought he’d left her alone. She still wasn’t sure if she felt regret or relief on that. Relief… of course it was a relief, she told herself again. Then why was her heart beating so fast now? Why was her body singing in delight now that he was close?
Armaan Oshnov was here, and he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. She ought to move away. But it seemed she’d lost her ability to move and speak. Her back still pressed against his chest, she tipped her head to the side to study him better. Dressed in a charcoal grey suit, a burgundy shirt with a soft rose pocket square, his hair ruffled, and a light stubble on his jaw, he looked absolutely divine. Her heart lurched again. He was here. Why? How? For what?
With his eyes dancing with mischief, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Her breath caught.
“Hello, moya tigritsa . Did you miss me?”
She stared at him. “Umm… no.”
He chuckled.
Umm… no?! Really. Her words sounded false even to her own ears. What was wrong with her? She was fumbling like an idiot. One second ago, she was so furious with Ozan for touching her without her consent. But with Armaan, she was melting into a puddle. How stupid was she? She straightened and moved to the side, but Armaan caught her waist and held her to him.
His eyes were glacial when they landed on Ozan.
Ozan’s eyes widened as he recognized him. From behind Armaan, his bodyguard, the same one she’d seen in London, stepped closer.
Armaan faced her. “Is everything okay here?”
The last thing she needed was for Armaan to go all mafia on the photographer. That would cause a scandal of epic proportions. Ozan was already drawing his own conclusions about the two of them. His eyes flicked briefly on Armaan’s hand at her waist before they widened even further. Well, if the cost of this disgusting man leaving her alone was to let him assume that she was with Armaan, then so be it.
“Ozan and I have reached an understanding,” Navya said, looking at the photographer. “Haven’t we?”
Ozan’s gaze alternated between Armaan and her.
“Answer her,” Armaan demanded coldly.
“Yes. It’s all fine,” the photographer said.
“Good,” Armaan said. “I’m sure you have somewhere else to be. Go now.”
Navya wanted to laugh at the shock on Ozan’s face as Armaan haughtily dismissed him. He visibly gulped and headed in the direction opposite from them.
Now alone, Armaan faced her. “Are you alright?”
“Of course.”
“You looked like you wanted to murder him. That can be arranged, you know.”
She stared at him open-mouthed.
Eyes dancing, he held his palms up. “It was a joke, moya tigritsa .”
“Really? Knowing you, it’s hard to say. You did ask your security to break a man’s legs in front of me.”
His eyes became ice. “Be thankful I didn’t have him killed for trying to spike your drink.”
“See, that is what I mean.”
“I do value human life.”
“Are you telling me you’ve never killed before?”
“I will neither deny nor accept that. I like my reputation very much, thank you.”
“Which means you like people being afraid of you,” she scoffed.
“O-Corp is a massive empire. We can run it successfully only if the wrong people know that they cannot mess with us. Our reputation of being dangerous protects us and keeps us safe. The right people, however, have nothing to worry about, da ?” He splayed a hand out casually. “Anyway, who was that man you wanted to hurt, and why didn’t you hurt him?”
“Ugh. He was a mistake, one he insisted on me repeating.” She realized the change in topic as his way of shifting the focus from himself. She was cool with that. She didn’t need to be in on any private details concerning him.
She continued, “And the only reason I didn’t hurt him was because I didn’t want to create a scene here. I am still trying to get my career going, and the last thing I needed was people in my industry watching me have a showdown with Ozan Kaya, the most famous fashion photographer in the Middle East. People would have judged me without even knowing the truth.”
“I can teach you a dozen different ways to hurt someone in a crowd without creating a scene.”
“What?”
The things he said… She never knew what to expect from him.
“Meet me on a training mat,” he said, “and I’ll teach you how to fight properly and to protect yourself.”
God, the last thing she needed was to spend time with him alone. Tonight was enough of a coincidence. Her hormones were already rebelling loudly because he was near, making her react and behave insensibly when she was normally so level-headed. She wanted no more of these butterflies dancing in her belly, of her skin being tingly, and her heart beating erratically. She wanted normalcy, and being with him was far from normal.
“Thank you, but no thank you,” she replied. “I already know self-defence. Rajiv insisted that we learn how to protect ourselves after the yacht incident.”
“I’m impressed, but I’ve seen the video of you hitting that man at my party. He was slightly drunk, and hence, too slow to move. Anyone alert could have shifted quickly or blocked you. And considering that I was the reason you took self-defence classes, perhaps I ought to teach you to do it the right way.”
“Again, thanks. But, no. Why are you here, though?”
“I told you I’d be coming for you.”
Her heart thumped even more erratically to learn that it was not a mere coincidence that he was standing in front of her. That he was here because of her. For her.
He tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “Did you think I forgot you?”
“One can always hope,” she deadpanned, ensuring her expression gave away nothing of the internal conflict raging inside her.
“Liar.” His voice was all silk as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You don’t want me to forget you. You want this as much as I do, or else you wouldn’t have initiated our first kiss. You’re just too much of a coward to accept it.”
And then he bit her ear lobe. A current of electricity washed over her, and she had to suppress the moan that was ready to spill from her mouth. He moved back and smirked.
God. Why was she not angry with him? She hated him, didn’t she? Then why the hell was she not angry with herself for reacting so easily to him and his touch? What she felt instead was exhilaration and excitement that he was here and he had found her, as promised. Shit. She was losing her mind.
And from the victorious smile he was giving her, he knew exactly how he made her feel. Damn him.
“The only reason I didn’t come for you earlier,” he began, “was because I had to go to Russia for work.”
Why was her heart rejoicing on knowing this? She ought to be afraid that he was pursuing her. He was dangerous. She’d heard rumors of the Oshnovs being a part of the Russian mafia, and judging from what she’d seen and heard in his study in London, she ought to believe those rumors, and stay clear of him. But fear was the last thing on her mind when she was with him. Ugh. What was wrong with her?
She shook her head. “How did you even know where to find me?”
“Are you seriously asking me that? I have enough and more means.”
“And enough and more arrogance,” she muttered.
He heard it, of course, and laughed. Still smiling, he shifted another strand of her hair from her face. “You look beautiful tonight… like a dream…”
“Nightmare. I am your worst nightmare.”
He chuckled. “Oh, the things that come out of your mouth. Unbelievable. Now come, let’s have a good time. No more talk of nightmares. You’re my reality tonight. And I am yours, da ?”
“No.”
“Will you ever agree with me on anything?”
“No.”
His eyes darkened. “A time will come when the only word that falls from your pretty lips will be yes .”
“Are you challenging me?”
“No. I am promising you.”
Her breath hitched. There, her heart went speeding like a race car on a track. Why did only this man affect her like this? Before she could say another word, Rehana Haddad caught Armaan’s arm, her talon-like shiny blue nails pressing into his elbow.
“Armaan, habibi , I knew you’d come to see me walk the ramp,” she purred. Armaan smiled at her, accepting her air kisses.
Something stabbed inside her on seeing that gorgeous model draped over him. Nope, she was not naming that emotion for what it was.
“Rehana, you look lovely as always,” Armaan said.
“How do you know Navya?” she asked, her curious eyes landing on Navya now.
Armaan gave Navya a slow smile. Before he could reply, the lights dimmed, and the emcee asked everyone to be seated for the fashion show.
“I have to go backstage…” Rehana drawled. She patted Armaan’s chest. “I’ll see you later, habibi .”
“Come on, let’s take our seats,” Armaan told Navya.
He took her to the front row, near the center of the ramp and to the only two remaining empty seats. Armaan’s bodyguard quietly took the seat behind them—the perks of being a rich man’s security guard, she surmised. Well, she wasn’t complaining either. She’d expected to be seated far back, but being in the center of the front row was another great thing to happen to her tonight.
“Nice…” she smiled, looking left and right.
“A bit of nice, a whole of naughty, and a lot of bad—that’s me!” he grinned.
“Oh God, why does everything have to be about you?”
“I told you I want you to like me.”
“Not that again.” She rolled her eyes. “I like good boys, not bad boys. And you are simply the worst.”
A corner of his lips tipped up. “Good boys go to heaven… so boring!” He leaned forward and flicked her earring. “But bad boys bring heaven to you.”
She gaped at him. “You listen to Julia Michaels!”
“I think after Coldplay, it ought to be obvious that I enjoy music, and perhaps you and I have the same taste in songs.”
She giggled. She couldn’t help it. It was cute to see him remembering and reciting the lyrics of another one of her favorite songs.
“That smile and the sound of your laugh always makes me hope that you’re warming to me.”
“You wish.” Her words didn’t come out as strongly as she’d intended them to.
“I promise you, moya tigritsa , that you will like me one day soon and then…”
Her expression turned serious. “And then?”
“And then I bring heaven to you, da ?”
Even though her heart was bursting like a firecracker, she found herself laughing, enjoying the moment with him. The lights turned off, signalling the start of the show and putting an abrupt halt to his flirting. The sound of water flowing, birds chirping, and bells tinkling echoed in the vast hall. Lights lit up the mirrored ramp. A mix of Indian and African beats played, and the first model appeared at the end of the ramp. Navya watched in rapt attention as, one by one, the models sashayed down the ramp, dressed in exotic gowns, pantsuits, and dresses. Each creation they adorned was better than the previous one. Her mind was busy imagining dressing her clients in these fabulous clothes being paraded in front of her. Given the theme, all the outfits were in shades of burgundy, pink, and green. It all tied together so prettily. She clapped along with the rest of the crowd.
“This is amazing.” She looked to the side and found Armaan watching her and not the show. She frowned. “Look at the stage.”
“Why should I look elsewhere when the most beautiful woman in the room is sitting right beside me?” he said, his tone serious. “Watching your pretty face glow in happiness is so much more delightful. I like seeing you happy.”
Warmth slid into her veins. Had he been watching her all this while? She stared at him. His gaze lowered to her mouth. Her throat dried. The very air around her felt charged. Heat coiled inside her, tighter, faster, deeper. She bit her lower lip.
Armaan stared at her mouth for a second more before he freed her lip with his finger. He remained like that for a moment, watching her, his finger on her lower lip. Her breath stilled. Suddenly, it felt like he was too close. Had he shifted, or was she the one tilting toward him?
From the corner of her eye, someone was glaring at her. When she looked up, Rehana was walking down the ramp with an icy glare on her face. Navya moved away from Armaan and settled back in her seat.
“Rehana looks like she wants to stab me with her claw-like nails,” Navya murmured. “Does she have a thing for you?”
Armaan made a face. “Irrelevant, because she is a mistake I never intend to make.”
Navya chuckled as he repeated her words. “Why?”
“I’m not interested in her. Never have and never will be.” He gave Navya a wicked smile. “I’m only interested in you, my tigress.”
Navya ignored the way her stomach swooped at his words.
“There goes a potential client then,” she said instead.
Armaan turned to her. “You want Rehana as a client?”
She shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt my credentials. She is the reigning queen of the ramp on this side of the world. Other models emulate everything she does. But seeing how she looks like she wants to murder me just because I’m sitting with you, I doubt that will ever happen.”
“Hmm, interesting.”
Rehana walked back down the ramp, and this time, she returned with the designer and their host for the night, Jacques Namura. The crowd gave him a standing ovation.
The man turned to Armaan and gave a bow and a wink before returning down the ramp.
“You know Jacques Namura?” Navya gasped, as Armaan took her elbow and guided her back to the main section of the hall where the party had now resumed.
“Yes, he is a friend.”
“Oh my God.” She paused, finally noticing that he, too, was wearing the designer’s colors. His shirt was dark burgundy, and his pocket square was light pink. Immediately, she put two and two together. “I got the invite because of you.”
And here she thought she had accomplished enough, and that’s why she’d been sent this prestigious invite. Her heart sank from the disappointment.
“I did recommend your name to Jacques and asked if he could consider adding you to the guest list for tonight. However, the only reason you’re here is because he found you talented enough to attend his show. Not even I have that much influence over him to get him to invite someone unworthy.”
Her distress must have showed on her face because he immediately said, “Don’t, not even for a second, doubt yourself. You are very talented. I’ve been following your work, Navya.”
Her eyes rounded. “You’ve been following my work.”
“I told you I was curious about you.”
“Why me?” she whispered, asking him the one question for which she still didn’t have a clear answer.
“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “But I’m willing to take time to find out. Are you ready to do the same?”
She stared at him, unable to come to terms with the fact that this gorgeous man was going out of his way to woo her.
“I have to go,” she exhaled, feeling overwhelmed with everything.
He smiled. “Running away again?”
She lifted her chin. “Why would I need to run away?”
“Perhaps, because you’re afraid to accept that you feel something for me.” He grazed the back of his hand down her cheek.
She shivered.
He cocked an eyebrow.
“That was nothing.” She backed a step. “Just a blast of cold air.”
He shrugged. “Keep fooling yourself, moya milaya . We both know that your body and mind are raging a battle. Your mind is winning so far. I’ll wait till your body decides it has had enough and takes over, because it will take over one day soon. No matter how hard you fight, you will end up in my bed.”
More shivers cascaded down her. A dam of desire burst inside her. Armaan gave her a sultry look that scalded her skin. She backed a step and then another until she was flying out of the banquet hall. She heaved a sigh of relief only when she was finally seated in her car.
Her phone pinged. It was him .
“You are mine, moya milaya. And I am going to make you mine.”
Her heart rate escalated further. Armaan Oshnov was a blazing hot inferno, and nothing good happened to anyone who played with fire. It only ended in you getting burned. She would resist him. She had to. The absolute last thing she needed was to be a victim of his flames. No matter how pleasurable getting singed by him would be...