Inayat's POV

She looked around and stopped a waitress.
"Washroom?" she asked, her voice dry and unsteady.

The waitress, already bribed, offered a polite smile.
"VIP section, ma'am. Upstairs... to the left."

Left.

God. Why does left and right always confuse me at the worst times?

Inayat turned-right instead of left.
A mistake that would change everything.

As she reached the floor above, a man stood by the hallway-Aryan Mehta.

He didn't ask her name. Didn't verify anything.
Just pointed at the room ahead.

"This way. Inside. Quickly."

She thought it was a private washroom.
She needed one urgently, and her mind was too fogged to question anything.

She walked in.
The door clicked shut behind her - auto-locked.

---

Arhaan's POV

He stood at the far end of the glass-walled VIP chamber, hands behind his back, eyes staring out at the skyline like a war general.

The room was dim, cold, clinical - much like him.

Without turning around, he spoke, his voice calm but soaked in ice:

"You have ten minutes.
Place the documents on the table. Give me the information I need.
And leave."

The girl at the door said nothing.

He frowned, rubbing his forehead.
"Your time has already started. After ten minutes, if I don't get what I want..."
He paused, then added sharply-
"...you'll regret it. With every inch of your body."

Still nothing.

He turned.

She wasn't even looking at him - she was digging through her purse for searching her phone.

He narrowed his eyes. Suspicion ignited.

Then, his phone buzzed.
A message from Aryan.

"Sir, urgent. Mrs. Mathur met with a car accident a few hours ago. She's critical. The girl in your room is not her. Possibly a spy."

Arhaan's eyes darkened. He looked at the purse again - his gun still on the table outside.
Security was locked out. He was alone.

And she... was possibly armed.

He strode toward her in two quick steps, ripped the purse from her hands, slammed it onto the table, then twisted both her wrists and pinned them above her head against the wall.

With one hand.

With the other, he yanked her hair back roughly and leaned in - whispering near her ear:

"You're just a little bird."
His voice was low. Dangerous.
"And you think you can hurt me?"
He chuckled darkly.
"Delusional."

Her breath was ragged, body limp from the drug.
She didn't respond - only stared at him with heavy, half-lidded eyes.

But something... hit him.
Those eyes.

Something ancient stirred in his chest.
Why do they feel familiar?
Like a buried memory.
Like a question his past had never answered.

For the first time in his life, a girl made him feel... something different.

Then-the lights went out.
Security had cut the main switch to ensure Arhaan's safety.

Inayat struggled to breathe. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
She looked lost. Frightened. Gone.

And Arhaan smiled.
A slow, devilish, victorious smile.

Before she could process anything, before a thought could even form-

His lips crashed onto hers.
Fierce. Wild. Desperate.
He kissed her like she belonged to him - or worse, like she was already broken.

His hand slid to the slit in her gown, fingers resting against her bare thigh.

And she... didn't resist.

Not because she wanted it.
But because her world had gone dark.

---

Tara's POV

Downstairs, Tara returned to the couch - and froze.
Inayat's phone lay forgotten, right where she'd left it.

Her stomach twisted.

Something felt wrong.

She asked nearby waiters about her. One of them said casually:

"That girl? Yeah... I saw her go upstairs. VIP section. But she didn't look... well."

Panic clawed at Tara's throat.

She raced upstairs - but security blocked her.

"No entry, ma'am."

"But she's my friend! She's not supposed to be up there!"

One guard hesitated, then alerted Aryan Mehta.
L
Aryan approached her cautiously.

"Who are you?"

Tara showed him their college IDs on her phone.
"She's not who you think she is. Her name is Inayat Dixit. She went upstairs by mistake."

Aryan's heart sank.

He made the call.

---

Back to Arhaan

The phone rang.
It broke whatever spell he was under.

He pulled away sharply. Answered.

Aryan's voice crackled:
"Sir... the girl is a student. She came here by mistake. The real Mrs. Mathur is in critical condition."

Arhaan stared at the girl in front of him.

Her eyes fluttered. Her breaths were shallow.
She didn't even know where she was anymore.

He stepped back.

Pushed his hair off his forehead.
Then leaned forward, brushing her hair behind her ear with disgust.

"I hate girls like you," he said, voice low and venomous.
"So drugged up... you don't even know who's touching you."

Then he grabbed her wrists again - roughly.
Unlocked the door.
Dragged her out of the room.
Threw her into the hallway.

---

Tara caught her just in time.

She held her best friend tightly, tears threatening to fall.

Booked a cab. Took her home. Said nothing.

And behind them...

Inayat's purse lay forgotten on Arhaan Rajvansh's floor.

Waiting.

Whispering.
_____

[End of chapter]