A silent billionaire.
A woman trained to kill.
When power marries danger, love turns lethal.
For the first time in years, work failed to hold my attention.
The file remained open in front of me, untouched for nearly twenty minutes while the city moved beyond the glass walls of my office. Numbers, contracts, meetings-normally my mind processed everything instantly.
Today, I read the same line three times and remembered none of it because my thoughts kept returning to her.
Velvet Viper.
My jaw tightened slightly as I leaned back into the chair, staring at the untouched papers spread across the desk.
Interesting.
No woman had ever distracted me from work before. Desire was easy to control, and attraction was weakness. But obsession was permanent.
Yet somehow... she had stepped into my life like violence wrapped in temptation and left chaos behind her.
The moment she revealed her face, something inside me shifted permanently.
I had seen beautiful women before. Women who spent fortunes trying to become unforgettable.
None of them came close to her.
Because beauty alone never interested me.
Danger did.
And she carried danger like second skin.
My fingers tapped slowly against the desk as memories replayed one after another with brutal clarity.
Black hair.
Long enough to fall below her thighs, unnaturally straight like dark silk pulled through shadows. Red tinsel woven between the strands caught the light every time she moved-subtle but impossible to ignore. The color reminded me of blood hidden inside darkness.
And those bangs-
They partially covered her face like a warning sign. Not enough to hide her, only enough to make people stare longer.
Everything about her was calculated.
Even her eyes.
Dark black. Empty at first glance. Emotionless enough to make someone underestimate what lived beneath them. But I had seen the truth hidden there.
Beautiful violence.
A quiet breath escaped me.
Her face didn't look soft under that makeup. It looked sharpened. The matte finish stole every trace of warmth from her skin, leaving behind something colder... harder to read. Smokey eyes darkened her gaze further while the contouring subtly changed the structure of her face itself.
And those lips-
Dark red like blood, bold enough to distract me again and again whenever she spoke.
I still remembered the taste of blood after she bit me. It was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted in my life.
My thumb brushed absently over my lower lip at the memory, amusement flickering through me again.
She fought like someone who wanted freedom more than survival.
That interested me far more than obedience ever could.
My gaze drifted toward the faint scratch marks still visible on my arm. Thin and sharp, left behind by those black nails she wore like weapons. Most women used beauty to attract attention.
She used it to intimidate.
The silver septum piercing should not have suited her.
Yet on her, it looked less decorative and more like rebellion carved directly into flesh.
Then there were the tattoos.
The black snake tattoo began beneath her shirt, winding upward along her skin until its mouth disappeared near her throat and chin-like something dangerous living beneath her body. A thin vertical tattoo ran from above her left eyebrow, crossing directly through her eye and sliding down her cheek with sharp precision. Across the bridge of her nose rested a minimal horizontal tattoo line, subtle but enough to make her face look colder under dim light.
Dark constellations spread across the fingers and back of one hand, delicate enough to look artistic until you noticed how deadly she truly was. On the other hand, black rose tattoos curled around her wrist and forearm, beautiful in the same way poison could be beautiful.
She looked like a hunter designed perfectly.
And God-
Her voice.
Smooth and bold enough to sound seductive even while threatening someone. Every word from her mouth carried confidence sharpened into a blade. Every word she spoke felt like a slow seduction pulling me closer to her.
I closed the file in front of me completely.
Useless.
My focus was gone anyway. My heartbeat turned uneven at the thought of her. Even the cuts she left behind felt strangely beautiful on my skin.
What unsettled me most wasn't her appearance.
It was the effect she had on me.
She fascinated me.
The way she walked silently through rooms like she already knew where every threat stood. The way her posture stayed straight even while trembling under my touch. The way she looked directly into my eyes instead of lowering her gaze.
For the first time in years, someone had looked at me like I was the monster.
And instead of hating it-
I wanted more.
And when she attacked me-
A slow smile appeared on my lips.
I enjoyed it.
Every second. I enjoyed watching her lose control. Watching her anger consume her more and more. Watching her try to hurt me while knowing somewhere inside herself she was holding back.
That realization alone was addictive.
She could have aimed to kill, but she didn't. And neither did I.
For the first time in years, I found myself wanting someone close not despite the danger-
But because of it.
Most people feared becoming someone's tragedy.
I think I would enjoy becoming hers.
Or making her become mine.
The thought should have sounded disturbing.
Instead, it settled inside me with terrifying comfort.
My obsession had started the moment I saw Velvet Viper even behind that black mask.
But after touching her-
After hearing her breathe beneath me, watching hatred and fear burn together inside those dark eyes-
It became something worse.
Something possessive.
I wanted her near me constantly.
I wanted her anger. Her violence. Her attention.
Most dangerously-her focus on me.
Because every time she did, it gave me another excuse to pull her closer... another reason to tighten my hold until she finally understood something very simple.
She was already becoming mine.
She was absolutely right. The farmhouse had never looked like that before. It had been almost empty before, filled with only useful things.
Then suddenly, it was filled with luxury overnight-not because I cared about decoration.
Because I planned for her to destroy it. And she did exactly what I wanted.
Every shattered object only pushed her deeper into my world.
Now she owed me.
Which meant she couldn't walk away so easily anymore.
Excuses to keep her near me until the debt disappeared.
And I had no intention of letting that happen anytime soon.
Because somewhere between her anger and violence, I had already decided something dangerous-
I wanted Velvet Viper to belong beside me long enough to eventually fall in love with the man she should fear most.
Even though I didn't want to, I forced her thoughts out of my head and made my way toward the meeting room to discuss our failures.
The meeting room carried its usual cold silence.
Daksh stood near the screen while Kartik leaned against the table scrolling through reports. Reyansh and Nishant sat opposite each other while Sameer checked security files.
The last time during our search for Pardeep Mishra, we were brutally outplayed. And now we kept making mistakes in desperation.
Kartik spoke calmly. "We need to investigate more about this new enemy."
Nishant folded his arms. "They're becoming more dangerous than our old enemies."
"They're building powerful alliances too," Sameer replied.
"They target only us," I said coldly. "Or they're targeting others as well."
Reyansh leaned back slightly. "We can form an alliance with their enemies."
Daksh nodded slowly. "Tonight's meeting with Dominic may help us find something useful."
The new enemy in our decades-old cold war felt strange. Nobody suddenly wakes up and decides to attack Rathor Group. It meant someone had been hiding their strength for years and was finally prepared to destroy us completely.
Many things had happened in the past, but I never believed anyone survived long enough to come after me like this. In the past, I always made sure no opponent stayed alive. This level of hatred wasn't new. It was old rage, carefully preserved and patiently waiting for the right moment to strike.
I stood from my seat. There was no point discussing strategy further when we were still missing information. We were also running low on weapons and supplies. First we rebuild strength. Then we hunt.
I left the meeting room, sat inside the car, and drove through the city evening until the art exhibition came into view.
The art gallery stood in the center of the city like a symbol of old money and quiet prestige. Glass walls reflected the evening lights while luxury cars lined the entrance one after another. Soft instrumental music drifted through the open doors as guests entered with elegance.
The moment I stepped out of the car, security straightened immediately.
Inside, the atmosphere smelled of expensive perfume, polished wood, and wine - something I actually liked. I was never the type of man who enjoyed attending events like this.
But someone once close to me did.
More than a decade ago, I received an invitation to a sculpture exhibition. With my complete lack of knowledge about art, I had no intention of going. But destiny had other plans. My uncle forced me to attend with him.
And everything changed.
My eyes stayed on the artist instead of the art.
Till today, I regret going there.
After that, my feet never entered another sculpture exhibition again. But four years ago, I attended a painting exhibition, and one painting reminded me of a time when I was capable of love too.
Paintings stretched across massive white walls beneath carefully placed golden lights.
I slowly removed the glove from one hand and walked further inside.
The gallery owner approached almost instantly.
"Mr. Rathor," he greeted respectfully. "We're honored by your presence tonight."
I gave a slight nod.
"I heard this exhibition gained unusual attention," I said calmly.
"It did, sir. Especially one particular artist."
He guided me through the hall while explaining different collections, artists, and private buyers. Some paintings already carried discreet SOLD tags beside them.
It was a gathering of elites trying to display wealth and refined taste, yet most of them looked fake pretending to understand the emotions hanging on the walls.
Even I didn't truly understand art.
But after attending exhibitions over the years, I slowly learned what I searched for inside them.
Once, I purchased a painting of Neelakurinji flowers - flowers that bloom only once every twelve years, turning entire valleys blue. The artist had painted the moment before the bloom. Waiting. Silence. Longing.
I genuinely liked it.
And for the first time in years, I wanted to meet the artist behind it.
Maybe tonight I would find something interesting again.
With that thought, I walked further.
The curator continued explaining different galleries and artists. But the moment I entered the last gallery, my footsteps stopped.
A field of red roses.
Dark like blood.
Beautiful enough to resemble obsession itself.
The storm-dark background behind them felt violent, almost dangerous. Strange enough, the painting reminded me of Velvet Viper.
"The artist behind this piece has become quite admired recently," the curator explained proudly. "Her work carries emotional contradiction."
That sounded more honest.
"I will purchase this," I said.
The curator smiled instantly. "You truly have an eye for meaningful art, Mr. Rathor."
My gaze remained on the painting.
But then movement near the center hall caught my attention.
A woman stood surrounded by guests.
Deep navy-blue Anarkali suit. Minimal jewelry. Brown wavy hair falling to her waist.
She was explaining something about another painting while people listened carefully.
Then she turned slightly and my mind went completely still.
Trishika.
What was she doing here?
For one second, I genuinely thought I was mistaken because this version of her felt unfamiliar.
She looked... confident here.
The gallery lights softened against her face while she explained colors and emotions to an elderly couple. Her hands moved gently while speaking.
People listened to her seriously.
Except me.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
The curator noticed my attention and smiled immediately.
"She is one of tonight's featured artists."
I looked at him.
Then back at her.
Artist?
"She paints?" I asked flatly.
I had heard my mother mention her work before, but since I had no interest in marriage back then, I never paid attention.
"Yes, sir," he replied carefully. "And exceptionally well. Several of her paintings were sold before the exhibition even began."
For a brief second, I said nothing.
Strange.
She was actually good at something too?
My gaze shifted toward another painting nearby.
Different emotions. Different colors. Different storms hidden beneath beauty.
At that moment, Trishika looked up.
Her eyes met mine across the gallery.
The softness on her face disappeared instantly, and she rolled her eyes at me like she had forgotten I existed for a moment.
Interesting.
The curator waved toward her. "Trishika, meet Mr. Rathor."
"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Rathor," she said calmly.
Excuse me?
"Excuse me, I'll return in a minute," the curator said before leaving us alone.
The moment he disappeared, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. Her body collided lightly against mine.
"I can't believe your paintings made their way into an art exhibition," I taunted.
"Who knows where they've made their way," she replied with a smirk.
So now she was teasing me about her paintings hanging inside my house.
"Being with me finally gave you some brain and a voice," I said, strangely enjoying her smile.
"I once read an article saying people become short-tempered, weak, and start speaking nonsense after entering their thirties. At first, I didn't believe it..."
Her lips curved slightly.
"But now I've seen a perfect example."
She jerked her wrist free from my grip and walked back toward the main hall, leaving me standing there.
And unexpectedly-
Smiling.
The moment she walked away, two elderly women stopped her near another painting and started complimenting her work again.
I stayed where I was.
Watching.
Interesting how confidently she spoke here. Almost like this world belonged to her more than mine. She looked completely different here, like this was another side of her. Maybe the real her. Maybe that was why she trembled whenever my eyes stayed too long on her.
The curator returned a moment later and continued speaking about future exhibitions, but I had no focus on his words because I was busy staring at her.
And somehow, while talking to everyone around her, she kept looking at me intermittently and throwing annoyed glares in my direction.
Her forest green eyes were impossible to ignore. Right now, I was craving her attention. I wanted her to approach me herself.
I didn't realize how long I had been standing there until Sameer's call interrupted me - and probably the curator too, considering how long he had been speaking while I completely ignored him.
I answered briefly before ending the call.
"I have to leave," I said flatly to the curator.
The curator nodded respectfully. "We hope to see you again, Mr. Rathor."
My gaze shifted toward Trishika. She was finally free again, and I had a few seconds to talk to her before someone interrupted us once more.
"When are you leaving, star artist?" I asked with a faint smile.
"Well, the driver is on his way to take me to the mansion," she replied calmly.
"Come with me."
She blinked once. "What?"
"I'll drop you."
Suspicion appeared instantly on her face, like I was planning to kidnap her.
"I can go with the driver."
"You can," I agreed calmly. "But you won't."
Still, she ignored my words and started walking away.
"If you keep denying, I'm going to grab your waist, lift you up, and put you inside the car. And I have no shame that everyone will look at us in shock."
Finally, she stopped and turned back toward me.
"Before leaving, I have to visit the second hall where the sculpture exhibition is going on. Unlike some people, I actually value art," she said, her eyes filled with emotion that strangely blurred my vision for a second, like I had been too harsh on her.
Did she truly believe I was enough of a maniac to do that in front of everyone?
Then again... maybe she was right.
Honestly, I had no interest in entering there. I didn't even want to go near that hall. But I had promised my mother I wouldn't throw her out or ignore her existence as my wife.
The second hall carried a completely different atmosphere from the painting gallery.
Tall white sculptures stood beneath focused golden lights while soft classical music echoed through the marble floor. Some were abstract. Some painfully realistic. Human emotions frozen into stone.
She walked deeper inside while I followed behind her silently, like someone afraid of losing sight of a person they knew.
She stopped near a marble sculpture of a woman standing beneath broken wings. Her eyes carefully studied every carved detail while I stood beside her silently.
"You actually came," she said suspiciously. "This place must be giving you a headache."
"Do you want to erase it right here?" I replied calmly.
She rolled her eyes.
The hall curator approached us and started guiding us through different sculptures, explaining the emotions, intentions, and artists behind them.
Trishika looked genuinely interested.
I, on the other hand, was hearing everything from one ear and letting it leave through the other.
The curator continued enthusiastically, especially after noticing Trishika's interest. "This sculpture is inspired by Italian restraint techniques."
His voice faded into background noise.
But my eyes noticed every detail automatically.
"She ruined the proportion slightly near the collarbone," I said casually.
The curator blinked.
Then looked carefully at the sculpture again.
"...You're right."
Trishika turned toward me so quickly her earrings moved.
"What?"
The curator looked genuinely stunned. "I... didn't notice that before."
Trishika folded her arms. "So secretly you're an art critic now?"
"No. I simply observe properly. Why do you always leave your eyes at home along with your brain?" I whispered near her ear.
"I don't want my intelligence to make you feel dumb," she whispered back while lifting herself slightly on her toes to reach my ear.
Her cold reply almost made me smile. I opened my mouth to answer, but she had already moved toward another sculpture nearby.
A black stone piece stood at the center of the hall - two hands almost touching but separated by a thin crack through the middle.
Beautiful.
"I'll buy this one," I said.
The curator immediately nodded. "Excellent choice, Mr. Rathor."
Trishika looked genuinely confused now and rolled her eyes again.
Honestly, I had no idea what I had done this time to deserve that reaction.
"Most people buy art because it looks expensive," she said coldly. "But sculptures are not just effort. They carry emotions that can't be measured in money. They represent patience, hard work, and creativity. If you don't value those things, don't buy them just because they enhance your status."
Those words made my footsteps pause slightly.
Something struck inside my chest.
I had heard those words before.
No. That couldn't mean anything. All artists spoke similarly. They all valued creativity. There was nothing strange about it.
I glanced at her once. "I do value them. They're not just decorative pieces to me. I consider the emotions too."
That answer made her smile slightly.
She stepped closer to the sculpture again, her expression softening while staring at the stone hands.
The curator interrupted us again and continued explaining more sculptures as we moved deeper into the hall.
Then my gaze shifted toward another sculpture.
The detailing around every curve.
The sharp stillness carved into the face.
For a second, an old memory flashed through my mind.
Hands covered in white marble dust.
Soft laughter inside a sculpture studio.
A woman arguing passionately about how stone remembers pain longer than humans do.
I looked away instantly.
Trishika noticed.
"Enough," I said abruptly before walking away.
My breathing felt uneven now. Sweat gathered at my temples. I couldn't stand there for another second.
I made my way toward the parking area immediately.
Halfway there, I suddenly felt warmth wrap around my hand.
I looked back.
Trishika.
"You're leaving me alone here?" she asked softly with a small smile.
I was irritated by everything around me, yet strangely... I didn't want to remove her small hand from mine.
"What happened?" she asked quietly, her gaze fixed on my face.
"Nothing."
We sat inside the car, and I drove away from the exhibition quickly.
Outside, the cold evening air brushed softly against the city lights. Evening had always been my favorite part of the day - when the world slowly quieted down and the weather finally turned cold.
The car moved smoothly through traffic.
She looked outside the window, and her reflection reminded me of the first day after our marriage when she had sat beside me exactly like this. The same city lights reflected in her eyes.
"Why are you taking so much effort to drop me?" she asked arrogantly. "There's no need."
That almost made me smile.
"It's a very rare service," I replied lazily. "You should feel special."
She crossed her arms dramatically and muttered something under her breath.
I placed my hand on her thigh suddenly.
She looked at me in shock.
"Why are you going to the mansion?" I asked quietly.
Her eyes lowered toward my hand gripping her thigh tighter.
"You don't like anything I do. It's better if I stay at the mansion with the others."
That was true.
But for once, I had no words.
"Hm."
I kept driving until the car slowly turned away from the road leading toward the mansion.
She noticed instantly.
Her brows frowned. "This isn't the way home."
"It isn't. I know."
I kept my eyes on the road calmly.
"Don't you remember? Maa told you to leave with me."
Realization crossed her face slowly.
Then irritation.
"Still, I want to go home. I'll tell her some excuse."
"No," I corrected smoothly. "You're still coming with me because I want that."
"I'll jump from the car," she said, slight panic entering her voice.
I stopped the car immediately.
Why was she behaving like I was actually kidnapping her?
Then again... after the way I treated her, maybe she had every right to panic.
"Trishika," I said calmly while smiling at her, "you're coming with me. And this time, I'll behave gently with you."
Exactly what I wanted.
Her face paled instantly despite the cold weather.
For the rest of the drive, she didn't say another word.
She didn't even look at me.
I stopped the car in front of the gate and signaled for her to leave. She stepped out slowly and walked toward the house like she was waiting for me to leave first before executing some secret escape plan.
"Don't you dare run from here. My eyes are on you," I said coldly.
She rolled her eyes again before entering the house.
Strangely, that habit no longer irritated me. Instead, it made her look fragile in some way.
I drove away from there quickly toward the club.
The club stood in the dead center of the city's underground elite district - hidden behind luxury hotels and private casinos where money erased morality. From outside, it looked like another high-end nightlife destination for rich brats and spoiled heirs.
Inside-
It was hell wrapped in gold.
Red neon lights bled across black marble floors while heavy bass vibrated through the walls like a second heartbeat. Cigarette smoke mixed with perfume, alcohol, and expensive sins. Women danced beneath golden poles on the lower floors while wealthy men watched from velvet lounges with dead eyes and hungry intentions.
Youth destroying themselves willingly.
Drugs exchanged hands openly in private corners.
Lines of white powder disappeared beneath rolled currency.
Girls laughed too loudly.
Men touched too freely.
And everyone pretended this was freedom.
The club had six floors. The first and second floors belonged to the nightclub itself while the upper four floors were protected by tight security - invitation-only access for people powerful enough to buy silence. Only selected and influential people entered those floors to make deals away from public eyes.
I stood alone on the fourth floor overlooking the club through a massive dark glass wall. From here, no one below could see us.
But we could see everything.
The private chamber was heavily guarded. Armed men stood outside every entrance while soundproof doors sealed business away from the chaos downstairs.
Daksh stood beside the whiskey cabinet reviewing shipment files while Kartik lazily checked his gun near the couch.
I swirled the glass of whiskey slowly in my hand, watching the crowd below.
Most of these people thought this was life.
They didn't realize they were prey feeding richer predators.
I took the last sip of whiskey, lit my cigarette, and moved toward the floor above where I had to meet someone.
Daksh walked beside me calmly while Kartik followed behind, one hand inside his coat where his weapon rested.
Fear opened doors faster than status ever could.
This floor felt different from mine. Hotter. Heavier. More corrupted.
Leather couches surrounded a long black table already covered with whiskey bottles, cigarette trays, imported cigars, and open files containing shipment routes and weapon inventory.
Two women danced slowly on elevated poles in opposite corners. They were barely wearing anything.
Drugs.
Money.
Lust.
Power.
Everything the city publicly condemned happened freely here.
A woman in a silver dress poured whiskey into crystal glasses while another tried sitting beside me immediately.
"Ranbir."
A deep voice greeted from behind.
Dominic Ravello.
Italian-Indian mafia broker in his early thirties. Brown eyes. Tall build almost equal to mine. Black trousers. Black shirt with half the buttons open revealing a large dragon tattoo spread across his chest. A cigar rested lazily between his fingers.
His family controlled illegal weapon routes between parts of Europe and the Middle East while publicly operating luxury shipping companies from Milan.
Dominic gestured toward the empty seat beside him. "Drink."
I sat without speaking.
Daksh opened the weapon files immediately while Kartik remained near the glass wall observing the club below.
Dominic lit his cigar slowly. "My older brother Valentino arrives from Italy tomorrow morning."
The name carried weight instantly.
Valentino Ravello.
The real power behind their European operations.
Unlike Dominic, Valentino preferred staying invisible. That made him more dangerous.
"He insisted I personally invite you to the ballroom gathering this week," Dominic continued calmly. "He wants you there. Apparently he wishes to discuss something personally."
"My pleasure," I replied while taking a slow drag from my cigarette.
I hated these kinds of parties.
But this time-
I had a reason to enjoy it.
He slid another file across the table toward me.
Inside were photographs of imported firearms.
Military-grade weapons.
Modified assault rifles.
Unregistered handguns.
Enough ammunition to start a private war.
"The shipment arrives through western docks," Dominic explained calmly. "Your ports remain safest."
Daksh reviewed the documents carefully.
We needed to refill our weapon stock. War was beginning.
And I intended to give Velvet Viper the most lethal weapons available.
One dancer below climbed onto the central stage while Dominic casually threw money into the air toward her body.
I looked away in irritation.
Then the dancer approached me, crawling across the floor before stopping near my legs.
My frustration deepened instantly.
"I think you should stop all this, Dominic," I said politely.
He laughed loudly before giving a signal for the women to leave.
A servant entered quietly and placed fresh drinks on the table.
After taking his glass, Dominic leaned back comfortably again.
"There's another reason Valentino wants this gathering handled carefully."
I stayed silent.
"He believes a new player entered the city."
He received that information very late.
I had already started investigating.
Ranbir Singh Rathor was not a businessman sitting inside a nightclub.
I was the reason powerful men locked their doors at night.
Dominic continued calmly, "Someone interrupted private operations recently. Killed trained guards. Disappeared without trace. That person also blasted Aakash Singhania's seaport."
Velvet Viper.
Interesting how quickly rumors spread through underground circles.
Dominic exhaled cigar smoke slowly. "We're certain the assassin is a woman from the body structure and movement style. But I wonder who she really is."
I lifted my whiskey glass slowly, interest settling deeper into my bones.
"If someone entered my territory," I said calmly, "they better pray they came prepared. Anyway, that woman's name is Velvet Viper. She works for me."
His smile faded slightly.
"Well... your rivalry with Aakash Singhania explains his blast," Dominic said carefully. "But why did your assassin attack my guards a month ago and steal my explosives shipment?"
"Well, I never ordered that, Dominic," I replied thoughtfully. "After all, our companies still need each other."
He gave a signal toward the guards.
A large screen lit up instantly.
Footage played.
A woman emerged from the shadows, killing every guard with brutal efficiency before stealing the explosives truck.
Her movements were skilled. Precise. Deadly.
Almost like Velvet Viper.
But it wasn't her.
Then the connection formed inside my mind.
After Dominic's explosives were stolen, a blast tore through my seaport and factory just a few days later.
The same explosives stolen from Dominic had been used in the attack.
That was when everything finally connected.
A new player had entered the game.
And unlike the others-
They had an assassin too.
"That assassin works for the new player," I said calmly.
"I agree," Dominic replied.
Now there were two additional enemies added to the previous ones.
And this time-they had an assassin too.
Interesting.
This game was becoming much more entertaining.
Then one guard approached Dominic and whispered something into his ear.
Dominic stood up slowly. "Enjoy the night, Ranbir. My brother is calling."
He left the room.
And at the exact same moment-
My friendly rival entered.
Ekansh Shekhawat.
Business tycoon. Dressed in a sharp brown tuxedo.
His tech company competed heavily against mine in the market, but somehow we still remained friends.
Though neither of us knew for how long.
He sat comfortably on the sofa directly across from me, his submissive Karina settling beside him like she belonged there. One manicured hand rested lightly on his arm while the other held a thin cigarette between her red lips. Black silk clung to her body like a second skin, diamonds glittering around her throat beneath the crimson club lights.
They worked well together.
Ekansh used her to gather information from powerful men while Karina used her intelligence and seduction to pull secrets from them effortlessly.
Unfortunately for her-
I wasn't weak.
Ekansh picked up the whiskey bottle himself and poured another drink into my glass without asking.
"It's rare seeing Ranbir Singh Rathor inside a nightclub willingly."
His voice carried amusement.
"I come here for business," I replied calmly. "Not entertainment."
He smirked. "That sounds exactly like you."
"So," he said casually while taking a slow sip of whiskey, "you hired an assassin for the first time." His smirk deepened slightly. "Tell me something, Ranbir... why are you always one step ahead of me?"
"If you stopped wasting time chasing nonsense," I replied while briefly glancing toward Karina, "you might find one too."
Ekansh's expression shifted slightly though his arrogant smile remained.
"So tell me honestly, Ranbir..." He leaned forward slightly. "Did she impress you?"
For one brief second-
Dark eyes flashed across my mind.
Beautiful eyes.
"She's efficient," I said finally.
That trick is very old now-pulling information by throwing lust.
Ekansh Shekhawat is the greatest womanizer I have ever met. Even if death came in front of him as a woman, he would fuck her.
He laughed quietly. "That's the closest thing to praise you've given anyone in years."
"She's skilled enough to complete my work," I replied calmly.
"She survived your attention too." His eyes sharpened knowingly. "That's rarer."
Karina quietly lit another cigarette for him while the rich children downstairs continued drowning themselves in drugs, lust, and fake freedom.
Then Ekansh spoke again.
"If I meet her first," he said lazily, "maybe I'll steal her from you."
My expression didn't change, but the atmosphere around us did.
Ekansh grinned wider immediately. He knew he had touched something inside me. His words always increased my irritation.
Then I finally spoke.
"You can try."
Ekansh rested his arm behind Karina while watching me carefully.
"Women like that are never trustworthy, Ranbir. More money, more luxury, bigger contracts-none of that guarantees loyalty."
He leaned slightly closer toward the table.
"She works for you now. But what if she betrays you tomorrow by accepting someone else's contract?"
That caught my full attention. I finally looked directly at him.
Most people avoided holding my gaze for long, but Ekansh never did.
That was why our friendship worked-
And why I would never trust him completely.
Because if I had plans to defeat him someday-
He definitely had plans for me too and his words tonight felt less like teasing...
And more like a warning.
Ekansh finally stood up from the sofa.
"See you then at Valentino's party," he replied lazily before walking toward the door.
Karina waved goodbye toward me softly.
I ignored her completely.
Ekansh Shekhawat's tail could never be straight.
I knew exactly what he was doing.
He wanted Velvet Viper. But he didn't know she wasn't just my contractor anymore-she was my woman.
He was trying to understand whether she attracted me physically so he could plan his next move carefully.
But what he didn't understand was one thing-
I wasn't simply interested in Velvet Viper anymore.
I was becoming obsessed.
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