" Today I will tell you who I am . And believe me you will not be able to stop me from what I'm going to do with you tonight. I will make you scream my name all night till the only name which you will remember is my name. "
He whispered and I know...
The very first chapter of The Unwritten Vows is out ..
Are you excited.
Happy Reading. ........
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Author's POV
A cool breeze snaked through the open-plan office of Rathore Industries, raising goosebumps on exposed arms despite the morning sun. Despite the slight chill, the atmosphere buzzed with activity. Whispers and friendly chatter filled the air as coworkers greeted each other, exchanging news and making plans for the weekend. Laughter drifted from a corner where a group discussed an upcoming company picnic.
This cheerful scene abruptly vanished as a hush fell over the room. It was as if someone had flipped a silent switch. All eyes turned towards the entrance as a man in a crisp black suit strode purposefully into the office. Heads snapped to attention, conversations ceased mid-sentence. Staff rose from their desks in a flurry of hurried greetings.
The man in black acknowledged their salutations with a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He moved with a focused determination, his path leading him straight towards a large, mahogany door at the far end of the office. This was no ordinary employee; this was Shreyas Rathore, the enigmatic CEO of Rathore Industries.
Shreyas Rathore was a name synonymous with success. Young, ruthless, and driven, he had ascended the corporate ladder at meteoric speed. He was a legend in the business world, admired for his sharp mind and unparalleled work ethic. Yet, whispers followed him like shadows. He was infamous for his icy demeanor and his singular devotion to work. Some even called him "The Ice Man," a nickname that perfectly captured his cold exterior.
Standing tall and broad-shouldered, Shreyas exuded an aura of power. His chiseled features, framed by dark hair, could have belonged to a Greek god. However, the coldness in his eyes, a steely blue that seemed to pierce through everything, sent shivers down spines. There was a sharpness to his jawline, a hint of a past that had left its mark. He carried himself with a quiet intensity, an air of unapproachable danger. Despite his undeniable good looks, many found him intimidating, even repulsive. To them, Shreyas Rathore was a devil in a designer suit, a man driven by ambition and devoid of warmth.
His ever-present secretary, a woman named Anjali known for her efficiency and discretion, followed closely behind him. She carried a steaming cup of black coffee - Shreyas' fuel of choice - and a leather-bound folder containing his meticulously planned schedule for the day. As they entered his opulent cabin, the heavy door swung shut with a soft thud, leaving the office once again buzzing with nervous energy.
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