𝟑. 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

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AAKARSH'S POV

What just happened right now?

Did I just collide with her? The so-called Ms. America-returned, spoiled princess? The girl who was ranting like a madwoman and then, not a moment later, checking me out shamelessly? It was like her mind couldn't decide if it wanted to curse me or undress me with those honey-brown eyes.

And when I pinched her, just to snap her out of her daydream? She lashed out, acting like I had just committed the most heinous crime imaginable. The fire in her eyes—hell, that girl has more attitude than any person I've ever met.

But... no doubt, she's something else.

She's a walking contradiction, this princess of the cursed Singhania family. Her beauty—damn. There are no words that could capture it fully. She looked like a goddess descended from the heavens, with a presence so ethereal that even my usual coldness couldn't protect me from feeling something.

Her innocence... it's in those eyes. They held something pure, something untouched by the filth of this world. And how much I had to hold myself back from ruining it. I have no business thinking about her like this. She's nothing more than a pawn in this game—a mere girl.

And a Singhania.

The blood of the cursed family.

The very family I've sworn to take down.

For the hundredth time today, I remind myself: Revenge. That's what this is. That's what my life has always been about.

But then, those honey-brown eyes flash in my mind again. The way she fought back, the way her voice trembled with indignation.

And her waist... fuck. That milky-white, sculpted curve... that damn waist-chain shining like a beacon, calling to me. It hugged her perfectly, teasing me, like she was made for this... to torment me. Any man would fall to his knees just to worship her.

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