The rain poured down relentlessly over Mumbai, the chaotic hum of the city muted by the heavy downpour. Aarohi Sharma stood under the awning of a small tea stall, watching the blurred headlights of cars pass by. Her dark brown hair clung to her skin, drenched despite her umbrella's best efforts. The smell of wet earth and brewing chai mingled in the humid air, comforting yet oppressive. It mirrored the uneasy anticipation in her chest.
She was waiting for a sign. Any sign.
As an investigative journalist, Aarohi lived for moments like this-when the city's darkest secrets seemed just within reach. The Rathore Group was at the center of her latest investigation, and if her sources were correct, there was something far more sinister going on behind the glossy facade of its towering empire. But the truth was elusive, hidden behind layers of privilege, wealth, and influence that seemed impenetrable.
Until tonight.
She had tracked down Ishaan Singh Rathore's location-an exclusive, members-only club that catered to Mumbai's elite. The man was infamous, not just for his ruthless business acumen but for his cold, detached demeanor. No one really knew who the real Ishaan Singh Rathore was behind those sharp suits and smoldering eyes. To Aarohi, he was the final piece of her puzzle, and tonight, she was going to get closer to him than anyone had ever dared.
She squared her shoulders, gathering her nerve. She wasn't a stranger to powerful men; her career had brought her face to face with dangerous players before. But there was something about this one-something that set her on edge in a way she didn't want to admit.
Aarohi glanced at her phone, double-checking the address before stepping out into the rain again. The club loomed just a block ahead, its imposing structure somehow darker and more foreboding than she expected. The neon sign glowed faintly through the mist, and a row of luxury cars lined the entrance. She straightened her raincoat, shaking off any lingering hesitation.
"Just one interview," she muttered to herself. "That's all I need."
The club's interior was the polar opposite of the storm outside-lush, opulent, and warm, with low lighting that gave the space an intimate, almost clandestine feel. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft reflections against the dark wood and velvet furnishings. The scent of cigars and expensive whiskey permeated the air. Men in tailored suits and women in glittering dresses mingled, their laughter as polished as their appearances.
But it was Ishaan Singh Rathore who commanded the room without saying a word.
Aarohi spotted him immediately. He sat in a private corner, surrounded by a few business associates. He didn't seem to be paying attention to their conversation, his gaze distant, as if he were perpetually observing the world from behind a glass wall. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore, with his tall, muscular frame, sharp jawline, and strikingly intense eyes that seemed to hold secrets no one could pry open.
For a moment, Aarohi faltered. How was she supposed to approach a man like him? He radiated a kind of power that made people like her-ordinary people-feel small. But she wasn't here to back down. Her career, her convictions, depended on this.
As she moved toward him, her heart drumming in her chest, one of his men stepped in front of her. "Private section, ma'am. No entry."
"I'm a journalist," Aarohi said, pulling out her press ID with practiced ease. "I just need five minutes of Mr. Rathore's time."
The man barely glanced at it. "No press allowed."
"I'm not here for a piece on his business success," she replied coolly, trying not to let her frustration show. "It's a private inquiry."
The man's face hardened, ready to send her away, but before he could say anything, Ishaan's voice cut through the tension.
"Let her through."
His tone was low, almost indifferent, but it carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. Aarohi's breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with him for the first time. His gaze was piercing, like he was reading her in an instant, evaluating her motives, her weaknesses. It unsettled her.
She squared her shoulders and walked toward his table, every step making her feel as if she were entering a lion's den. Ishaan didn't move, didn't speak. He simply waited, his dark eyes never leaving hers, a slight curve at the corner of his lips betraying his amusement.
When she reached him, he gestured to the seat opposite him. "You have five minutes. Use them wisely."
Aarohi sat down, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. She wasn't sure if it was his imposing presence or the sheer audacity of this moment, but something about him made her feel completely out of her depth. This wasn't like any other interview she'd conducted before.
"I want to talk to you about your family's business," she began, trying to keep her voice steady. "There have been... rumors."
"Rumors," Ishaan echoed, leaning back in his chair. His gaze never wavered, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips now. "And you believe everything you hear?"
"I believe in facts," Aarohi shot back, holding her ground. "And the facts I've gathered point to some questionable dealings within the Rathore Group."
There was a beat of silence. Ishaan's eyes darkened, his amusement fading. The shift in his demeanor was palpable, like the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.
"You're bold, Miss Sharma," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "But you're also playing with fire."
Aarohi swallowed hard. "I'm not afraid of the truth."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers with a fierceness that sent a shiver down her spine. "You should be."
For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of them-locked in a battle of wills, both refusing to back down. Aarohi's pulse quickened, her skin tingling with an unsettling combination of fear and something else-something she didn't want to name.
Before she could respond, Ishaan stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek business card, sliding it across the table toward her.
"If you're so determined to dig into my world, call me," he said, his voice soft but filled with an undeniable command. "But be warned, Miss Sharma-once you enter, there's no turning back."
Aarohi stared at the card, her fingers hesitating before picking it up. When she looked back at him, his eyes were darker than the night outside, filled with something she couldn't quite decipher.
"Good night, Miss Sharma."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her sitting there, heart racing, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The weight of his warning hung heavy in the air, but so did the pull she felt toward him-a dangerous, undeniable pull.
As she clutched the card in her hand, Aarohi knew one thing for certain: her life was about to change in ways she couldn't even begin to imagine.
---
End of Chapter 1
This sets up the tense dynamic between Aarohi and Ishaan, introducing the dark, magnetic attraction that will drive the story forward.
Let's see how Aarohi and Ishaan's story unfold, whether they get together or things just worsen more.
Write a comment ...