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Rishi grabbed Aakarsh's attention and dragged him into the shadow of the corridor, his voice cracking under the weight of urgency. "For God's sake, don't create a scene here. She's just stepped back into this house, Mr Mehrotra. Let me talk to her first—then you can—"
The words died in his throat when the deadly blank hazel green eyes collided with the pleading brown orbs of Rishi.
Because Aakarsh turned his head slowly, and that one look was enough to silence an entire room, let alone one man. His jaw was stone, his eyes darker than sin itself. That wasn't the look of a man. That was the look of a king who decided wars with his silence.
"Don't tell me when I can claim what's mine," he said, his voice low, each syllable soaked in venom.
Rishi's breath hitched. His palms had gone clammy, his heartbeat violent against his ribs. He had seen Aakarsh angry before — but this wasn't anger. This was deadly calm. The kind that made your stomach twist and your knees weak.
He cleared his throat before gulping the lump, "Mr Mehrotra, listen to me." His voice broke into desperation. "If Ikshita hears this truth from someone else, if she feels cornered, she'll break. You can't drag her into this storm right now. Please... please let me—"
Aakarsh stepped forward. Not fast, not violent — but slow, deliberate, terrifying. Rishi instinctively stumbled back, his body reacting before his mind could.
"Do I look like a man who waits for the correct time?" Aakarsh's tone cut through the air like a blade. And when he didn't find any reaction from him, His voice rose a little higher in pitch, but dangerous.
"Do I look like a man who waits?"
Rishi's chest caved in. His voice shook, his words tumbling over each other in a pathetic attempt to save the moment. "I'll handle her. I swear on my life I'll handle her. Just... give me 48 hours. Forty-eight, that's all I ask. I'll convince her myself. She'll come to you. Please..."
Silence. Heavy. Crushing.
Aakarsh leaned in, his breath brushing against Rishi's ear, his words colder than winter steel.
"Forty-eight hours, Mr Singhania. Not a second more. After that, she walks with me. And I don't care who stands in my way — father, mother, God himself."
Rishi's knees nearly buckled. The sheer ruthlessness in his voice made bile rise in his throat.
Aakarsh straightened, fixing his cufflinks as if he hadn't just set the clock ticking on a man's sanity. His aura screamed dominance — the kind that made men swallow their pride and women lose their minds.
"I don't force women," he said, his tone merciless. "They come to me. Willingly. Because they know resistance is useless."
Agreeing to that, Rishi hurried away, his shoulders heavy with the weight of borrowed time.
