𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧: 𝐀𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢 (𝟏𝟖+) ✅

34

"Miss Malhotra, I certainly acknowledge Mr. Oberoi's generous contributions to our organization. However, it's imperative to address his recent behaviour, as it clearly violates our guidelines and is not conducive to a positive learning environment," the dean articulated firmly, motioning for me to enter his office. Despite his obstinance in refusing to meet with the dean and his attempt to prevent my access, I managed to slip away under the guise of needing a restroom break.

"I understand, sir. Please accept my apologies on his behalf," I interjected, trying to temper the escalating tension that hung heavy in the room. But just as I thought I might be able to regain control of the situation, the office door burst open, and there stood Akshat ji, exuding an air of entitlement and arrogance.

"I thought you were on your way to the restroom," he remarked casually, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Akshat ji, I was just—" I began, but before I could finish, the dean stood up abruptly from his seat, his breaths coming in slightly laboured.

"Listen, don't you dare disrespect her in any way, or you won't live to see another sunrise. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" His voice cut through the air like a whip as he stood next to me, placing a gun menacingly on the table.

"Yes... yes, Mr. Oberoi," the dean stammered, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling handkerchief.

"It's 'Sir' for you," Akshat ji corrected him sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. I could sense the dean's fear palpably, especially when Mr. Oberoi began to toy with the gun, loading it with an unsettling ease.

"Akshat ji..." I whispered urgently, reaching out to touch his arm, worried about the dean's health. I feared another minute in this tense situation might send his blood sugar plummeting.

"Yes, princess," he responded, flashing me a smile that seemed out of place given the circumstances. Was this man even real?

"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again," I said, bowing my head slightly in a gesture of contrition.

I felt the cold metal of the gun against my chin as he lifted it from the table, his voice firm as he spoke, "Didn't I tell you, no bowing down to anyone, princess?" I met his stern gaze with a defiant glare. How could he barge in and demand anything from me?

For what felt like an eternity, we locked eyes in a silent battle of wills until finally, Akshat ji relented, lowering the gun and offering a strange, almost unsettling smile. What was with him and this incessant smiling? In all our time together, I could count the moments he smiled on one hand.

I guided him out of the dean's office, shooting a final sympathetic glance at the visibly rattled dean. His expression pleaded for reassurance, and I silently hoped he would find solace in the aftermath of this tense encounter.

Once outside, I positioned myself squarely in his path, arms folded across my chest in a gesture of both authority and self-preservation. With a raised eyebrow and a steady gaze, I silently urged him to account for his actions and to offer some explanation for his behaviour.

Instead of contrition or justification, his response was unsettlingly brazen. His eyes bore into mine with a disturbing intensity, drifting shamelessly down to my chest as he wet his lips in a manner that sent a shiver down my spine.

"You know they pump up when you fold your hands?" he murmured shamelessly, his breath hot against my skin. At that moment, my entire body seemed to catch fire, every nerve tingling with an unsettling mixture of arousal and alarm. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, a physical manifestation of the conflicting emotions swirling within me.

The audacity of his comment jolted me back to reality. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, my voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and indignation. As I lowered my arms, his smirk only deepened, exacerbating the simmering frustration within me.