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With a mix of frustration and longing, I tear my gaze away, but his image in that sexy suit lingers in my mind, and once again, my gaze falls on him. That’s when our eyes lock. Ayaan’s wicked grin sends a surge of anger coursing through me. He had expected me to be here. I notice his longing stare upon my figure, tracing every curve of my silhouette draped in the lilac saree. His eyes burn with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine, igniting a fire within me that’s hard to ignore. Ayaan’s gaze is filled with a hunger and desire that only I can satisfy. It’s as if he sees through the layers of the fabric, his eyes undressing me, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
I know that his need for me matches my own. The connection between us is undeniable. It’s a desire that can only be satiated by the touch of our bodies intertwining, by giving in to the intoxicating chemistry that crackles in the air whenever we’re near. He licks his lower lip without breaking our eye lock. It’s a silent invitation, a promise of a passion that knows no bounds.
Mockingly, he raises his champagne glass in a toast at me from afar, intensifying my frustration. Unable to bear the sight any longer, I turn abruptly, my steps leading me away to some place where no one can witness the electrifying tension that exists between us.
I head towards the balcony, attempting to calm my racing thoughts, when I feel his magnetic presence behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Ayaan. He had followed me.
“Ayaan,” Lara’s voice from behind alerts me and though it’s Ayaan she calls out to, I halt in my steps too.
We are only a few steps away from each other when Lara, evidently crushing on Ayaan, approaches him with a flirty smile.
“Are you leaving already?” she asks.
Ayaan looks at me from the corner of his eyes before replying.
“I have something urgent to attend that can’t wait,” he replies playfully.
“Oh, Ayaan, really? Can’t you stay just a little longer? The party won’t be the same without you,” she pouts.
“I hate to say, but I can’t stay for long.”
Lara’s disappointment is palpable.
“Well, if you can’t stay, at least let me thank you properly for the amazing gift you gave me. That imported perfume is an extravagant present, and it smells divine. From now on, I’ll wear it every day and think of you.”
Ayaan grins. “I hope every whiff of it brings a smile to your face,” he says.
Lara leans in and kisses Ayaan’s cheek. I watch as her lips make contact, my anger and jealousy intensifying with each passing second. The possessiveness within me flares, unable to bear the thought of anyone else leaving their mark on him.
“Go take care of whatever you need to do. We’ll catch up soon. Bye,” Lara simpers.
She retreats back into the party hall, leaving Ayaan behind. The jealousy within me grows stronger, fuelling my determination to confront him and protect Dad’s agenda for the election campaign. But more than that, I can’t shake the burning desire to wipe away the touch of Lara’s lips from Ayaan’s cheek.
CHAPTER 8
AYAAN
Meher turns on her heels, a mix of frustration and fury written on her face. She quickens her pace, knowing I’ll follow, drawn to the unspoken tension between us.
This is the first time I’m seeing Meher in a saree. It’s a perfect blend of traditional and contemporary fashion, capturing the attention of all those around her. The lilac hue of the saree complements Meher’s complexion, accentuating her natural beauty. The sequins shimmer as she moves, casting a mesmerising sparkle with every step. The saree’s readymade design adds convenience without compromising on style, allowing Meher to effortlessly embrace her chic and graceful look as always.
The lights on the balcony are dim, creating an intimate atmosphere that matches the intensity of our emotions. There’s a sense of seclusion and privacy, allowing us to engage in this heated conversation away from prying eyes. As I stand behind her, Meher swiftly turns around, her palm connecting with a resounding slap against my left cheek. The suddenness of the strike catches me off guard, yet I maintain an air of arrogance, refusing to let her see any trace of the sting or impact it had on me.
Before she can further act on her impulse, I slide my arm around her bare waist, pulling her closer. Our faces are mere inches apart, the intensity of our gaze locking us in a battle of wills. Meher looks scared at my sudden response to her slap as if she thinks I would retaliate in a similar manner or make her realise what a grave mistake she has made by slapping me. But Ayaan Shergill is not the kind of man who would raise his hand against a woman. And to someone he loves with such intensity, no f*cking way. As Meher attempts to push me with her hands, I swiftly grab her wrist, firmly securing them at her back, preventing her from taking any further action except for opening her mouth to express the reason behind her slap. Aware that she is powerless in her attempts to push me away, she eventually surrenders and meets my gaze, a mixture of fury and hurt reflected in her eyes.
“How could you let our private moments in Arya Bhavan leak into the media? Do you have any idea what this scandal has done to my reputation?” Meher yells, her eyes filled with anger and accusation.
My grip on her wrist loosens, and she immediately punches my chest, venting her frustration. I can’t help but admire her fiery spirit.
“You claim to be a righteous man, but this is not what righteous men do, Ayaan!”
She has every right to be upset, but I can sense something else brewing beneath the surface.
“Are you done with your tantrum?” I calmly ask, appearing unfazed by her slap or the hurt I have caused her by revealing our kiss at Arya Bhavan to the media.
Meher keeps glaring at me for my arrogance and uncaring attitude. To shock her with my behaviour is my new pastime these days.
“Why are you dragging old topics into this conversation? Is that really what you want to ask me right now?” I grin.
