A member of the mafia, Nawab, falls prey to the temptation of wooing a woman during a mission outside Mumbai. Under the identity of Manik Malhotra, he meets Nandini Murthy, a walking-talking panic button, and feels undeniable attraction for her.
Be...
Before you plunge into the chapter, a forewarning.
All is not how it seems; perspectives differ.
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𓆩𓆪
She was asking him to spend a night with her, and he – he would cross seven seas if she told him to.
Her request was far simpler.
Manik nodded, not for once pondering about any consequences, and the warmth of her hand etched into his long-term memory as he allowed himself to be pulled into the flat. The feeling would serve him for many nights to come in the months and years ahead of him.
How had he been reduced to this pathetic state where he was entirely wrapped around her finger?
Only two nights ago when his friends had confronted him about being so lost in Nandini every waking moment of his days, they had snapped, "Yeh sab kuch zyaada hi lamba chal raha hai uss ladki ke saath, khatam karle."
More than what they said, it was the tone that had put Manik off and he had stood his ground when he merely responded, "I am not done with her yet."
The Manik the clan knew never ducked from a challenge. Besides, since Nandini Murthy was averted to sex and had no experience committing pleasurable sins of any sort, it was only fair that their friend needed more time to finally get to her. What was the harm in that?
It was merely an obsession stemming from laying his eyes upon a woman he wanted to claim.
Not a threat even worth considering; their friend was no child, Manik had been associated with the mafia for the longest time to know it was nothing beyond sexual attraction. They need not lecture him about the code of ethics in the underworld.
Listening to their better judgment, the sane group came to a general consensus and refused to counter him on that aspect. Excluding Alia, who took it as a personal loss to be ditched for someone as lowly as Nandini Murthy.
As she unlocked the main door, Nandini apologised for the messy state of her friend's house, which Manik regarded as nearly spotless – of course, it had a glass set out on the dining table and some hand towels were off the oven rails, but all those were evidence of a lived-in home and not a museum. She told him to make himself comfortable, while she would use the bathroom and return.
When Nandini was gone, Manik laid the tiny ziplock bag on the dining table. He always kept it handy – just in case his friends or a customer could not do without them – and had not planned on using it but now, especially after wafting away in some moments of unrestrained lust... he needed it to bring himself back to reality, a reality in which neither of their worlds could ever collide.
Looking at those pills in front of his eyes itself woke up a hibernating part of him that thrived on its high, back when he consumed regularly. Three of the tablets were the same colour while one was a different one that he habitually used to force sleep to overtake him every night.
