The Mafia heart ( book 1 )

chapter 5 the meeting

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Vikram's sleek car as it glided toward Royal Heritage College. Vikram sat in the backseat, his eyes on the road but his thoughts were far from it. Arman, as usual, occupied the passenger seat, humming along to an upbeat tune playing softly on the radio. But even with the music, Arman couldn't resist teasing Vikram.

"So, what's the plan, boss?" Arman asked, grinning. "Are you going to sweep her off her feet? Or are you just planning to sit there and glare at her until she's too scared to run?"

Vikram shot him a look. "I'm not going to scare her."

"Could've fooled me," Arman chuckled. "You've got that intense 'I'm-going-to-devour-you' look in your eyes whenever you think about her. Not exactly romance material."

Vikram didn't respond. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he saw Mehek again. He just knew he needed to see her, talk to her, understand what was pulling him toward her like this. He wasn't used to uncertainty. And Mehek made him feel exactly that-uncertain.

As the car pulled into the college parking lot, Vikram's fingers drummed lightly on his leg. Arman, sensing his friend's nerves, leaned back with a smug grin.

"I can't wait for this," Arman said, folding his arms behind his head. "You, sitting across from her in the Dean's office, all serious and brooding while she's probably wondering what in the world is happening."

"Arman," Vikram warned, his voice low.

"Hey, relax," Arman said, still grinning. "It'll be fine. Just don't glare too much, alright? Might help your chances."

Vikram stepped out of the car, his usual confidence in his stride, but inside, there was a storm brewing. This wasn't a negotiation or a business deal. This was something personal, something that left him vulnerable. And vulnerability wasn't something Vikram Singh Rathore was accustomed to.

As they entered the college, students scattered out of their way, recognizing the man who was as much a kingpin in the city's underworld as he was a mysterious figure to them. Vikram, however, paid no attention to the whispers. His mind was focused solely on Mehek.

They were led into the Dean's office, a quiet space with high bookshelves and large windows overlooking the campus. Kartikeya was already there, sitting in a corner, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes observed everything, his usual scowl in place.

"Everything's arranged," Kartikeya said without preamble. "The Dean will call her in shortly."

Vikram nodded, settling into a leather chair behind the Dean's desk, his posture commanding. Arman lounged in a chair nearby, his grin never leaving his face. Kartikeya remained standing, his sharp eyes flicking from Vikram to Arman.

"So," Arman said, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes. "What's the game plan? You going to sit there and stare at her the whole time? Or maybe you'll actually say something?"

Before Vikram could answer, the door opened, and the Dean, a middle-aged man with thinning hair, stepped in, followed closely by a nervous-looking assistant. The assistant handed a note to the Dean, who glanced at it before looking up at Vikram.

"We've called her from her class," the Dean said, clearing his throat. "She'll be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Vikram replied, his voice steady, though his mind was already racing.

As the Dean and his assistant left the room, leaving the three men alone again, Arman chuckled softly.

"Here we go," he whispered, rubbing his hands together like he was about to watch an entertaining show. "This is going to be fun."