Chapter 25 Kiara
Mumbai was a contradiction.
Too fast, and yet somehow still—loud chaos wrapped in silken quiet. A city that blinked neon while you weren’t looking and swallowed hours before you even noticed.
The first two days blurred into a haze of conference rooms, handshakes, and boardroom battles. Manav was caught in a relentless loop of back-to-back meetings, late-night calls, and intense strategy discussions with his loyal shadow—Justin.
But even buried beneath piles of files and mergers, he never forgot me.
He texted me between presentations: “The cheeseballs are in the oven. Eat.”
He showed up with my favorite coffee, just how I liked it.
And that first night—despite a high-stakes negotiation in full swing—he walked out of the meeting just to be home before I fell asleep.
“You’ll sleep better if I’m here.”
And I did.
Now, tonight was the Gala.
One of those polished social events where the champagne never stopped flowing and billionaires wore tailored suits with their cufflinks. The room would be packed with legacy surnames, Botoxed smiles, and old money masquerading as charm.
Manav had been busy the entire night, weaving through the crowd like he owned not just the room but the entire world.
He talked about strategies, built partnerships, and somehow managed to charm even the most difficult of personalities.
He was happy—ecstatic, even. It was written all over his face.
Anyone could see it. After all, he had defied the odds and won the business deal with the Queen.
But me? I had a different kind of attention tonight.
The Queen herself had been unusually focused on me.
And oh, the media? They practically forgot about Manav for a moment when we walked in holding hands.
Flashbulbs went off in rapid succession, and heads turned.
I couldn’t miss the hushed whispers among some ridiculously stunning women—some about Manav, but most about my dress.
Yes, the dress. Sasha had outdone herself. An emerald-colored gown, high-slit on one side, with delicate straps and a perfectly tailored fit that hugged every cell. I felt like a goddess when Sasha’s makeover team was finally done with me.
At one point during the dance, Manav leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “I can’t focus tonight,” he murmured. “Can you tie your hair…?”
It took everything in me not to burst into laughter right then, but it also left me a little flustered, as his words always did.
The worst part? I had absolutely no control over myself tonight.
The way he was looking at me—as if I were the only thing he’d ever wanted.
And the way his eyes kept flickering to my lips while he spoke sent shivers down my spine.
His fingers, oh God—his fingers—grazing my bare arms just enough to tease, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
And when he smiled, that knowing, infuriatingly gorgeous smile, I knew he was holding himself back. Barely.
And now, hours later, he’s driving us back home.
The soft hum of the engine mixes with the soothing melody playing on the car’s stereo.
His hand, warm and steady, is wrapped around mine as he hums along to the music.
The streetlights cast fleeting glows on his sharp features, and I am this close to throwing all reason out the window, leaning over, and kissing him senseless.
And every stolen second left my heart racing, my mind spiraling into places it shouldn’t go.
As he pulled into the driveway, I reached for my seatbelt, fumbling in the process, but before I could unbuckle it, his hand was already there.
His fingers worked the buckle effortlessly, and the proximity made me forget how to breathe.
My gown, a traitorous emerald masterpiece, exposed far too much of my skin—skin that betrayed me with every goosebump he could undoubtedly see rising.
And then he smiled. Honest, genuine, devastating. That smile.
“Are you okay?”
“Ye… yes,” I stammered. The words barely leaving my lips as his finger brushed lightly against my cheekbone. My heart skipped and tumbled, hopelessly at war with itself.
“Try again.” His breath, rich with the faintest hint of whiskey, warmed my ear, sending another shiver down my spine.
His fingers shifted to cup my cheeks, his touch achingly gentle. The space between us was vanishing, evaporating into the heat building with every second. My gaze locked onto his, and my pulse thundered in my ears. His eyes held mine like a challenge, daring me to admit what I didn’t want to say.
And I was utterly, completely powerless against him. I swallowed hard, my traitorous body leaning just slightly into his touch. “Just… a little tired.”
He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching mine. “The way you look tonight… the way you’re fidgeting right now, trying to decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. I’m holding on by a thread here, baby.”
“Manav…” I whispered his name, though it sounded more like a plea than anything else.
That was all it took. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was slow but electrifying, every movement deliberate, every touch igniting something inside me I couldn’t name. His hand moved from my cheek to my neck, his fingers grazing the bare skin there as he deepened the kiss.
I was lost—completely and utterly lost in him. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. He groaned softly against my lips, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.
When he finally pulled back, both of us were gasping for air. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes, darker than I’d ever seen, locked onto mine. “I’ve been holding back for too long,” he murmured, “and it’s getting harder to resist.”
I didn’t get the chance to reply because, the next moment, his lips were on mine again.
The kiss wasn’t gentle this time. It was demanding, consuming, and utterly intoxicating.
My back pressed into the car seat as his hand moved from my neck to the small of my back, pulling me closer as if the space between us was unbearable.
Every stroke of his tongue against mine sent shockwaves through me, only for him to trail kisses down my neck, pausing at my collarbone.
His hand slid lower, grazing the exposed skin of my back.
For a moment, he just stared at me, his chest rising and falling heavily.
Then, with a shaky exhale, he held my wrists and leaned back, his fingers brushing against my cheek before trailing down to my neck.
“We’re going inside,” he said, his tone firm. “Now.”
I didn’t get the chance to reply because, the next moment, he was out of the car, rushing around to open my door. His hand found mine, pulling me toward the house.
As soon as we stepped into the room, he slammed the door shut and spun me around, pressing me gently against it.
His hands cupped my face, tilting it just right, his control slipping with every passing second as he deepened the kiss.
My fingers gripped his shirt as if anchoring myself to him, and I could feel his heart pounding as hard as mine.
My hand trailed down his chest. His shirt buttons stared back at me like an invitation, and I couldn’t resist. Slowly, deliberately, I began undoing them one by one.
His breath hitched as my fingers brushed against his skin, and his hands moved to my waist, gripping me tighter.
“Kiara,” he warned, his tone a mix of exasperation and desire.
“Am I distracting you? I asked innocently, slipping another button free.
“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice trembling, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.
I shrugged, my hands sliding under the now-open shirt to explore his toned chest. “Maybe I like the heat.”
That was all it took. The next moment, his lips were on mine again, his hands roaming my body as if trying to memorize every curve. His shirt fell to the floor, forgotten, as he lifted me effortlessly, pinning me firmly against the door.
“I am three seconds away from breaking every fucking rule…” He growled, his voice thick and unsteady, dripping with need.
His lips trailed down my jawline to my neck, igniting a trail of fire that sent shockwaves through my body.
“The rules I made to stop myself from touching you the way I’ve wanted to for so long.
The nights I’ve held you in my arms, wearing those damn nightwears, fighting every urge to lose control.
And the way I think about you…” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “In the shower. Every. Single. Time.”
His hand slid to my shoulder, slowly easing the strap of my gown down, his lips following close behind, leaving a trail of heat that left me dizzy. “The dreams…” he murmured against my skin. “Where you’re mine… just mine.”
I could feel him, firm against my abdomen. The evidence of his desire was impossible to ignore, straining against the fabric of his trousers, his body radiating an intoxicating heat. Beads of sweat glistened under my touch as my palms roamed over his taut skin.
With a shaky breath, my fingers instinctively moved toward his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it. His hands caught my wrists gently, his grip firm yet tender, as though he was teetering on the edge of restraint.
“Kiara,” his breath hot against my collarbone. “If you keep going, I won’t be able to stop.”
I tilted my head slightly, brushing my lips against his, barely a whisper of a kiss. “Don’t stop.”
I pulled my hands free of his gentle hold, my fingers immediately returning to the buckle of his belt. This time, he didn’t stop me; his eyes fixed on mine as though he was daring me to continue. My hands worked quickly, unfastening the leather and sliding it free.