BOOK 1 - 𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.
𔓘 Can be read as a Standalone.
Yuvan Singhania was power draped in darkness-a billionaire heir with blood-stained secrets buried beneath tailored suits and ruthless...
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Varenya's POV:
I was exhausted. Every bone in my body felt like it had been dragged through fire and ice, and my heart was no better, it was burnt around the edges, frozen at the core. All I needed now was a cold shower and a moment of peace.
Throwing my heels, I peeled the dress from my skin half and grabbed my softest pajama set, grey in colour.
And reached for the book on my nightstand, the one I'd been halfway through, a story of love, lust, power and twisted intimacy that had somehow become my escape. I tossed both on my bed. Without giving it another thought, I walked into the bathroom and let the cold water hit me like a storm of sanity.
Minutes later, I emerged wrapped in a white bathrobe, my hair damp and clinging to my neck. I rubbed a towel over it, while already thinking about where I'd left off in the book.
But the moment I stepped into my room, the calm shattered.
There he was.
The Yuvan fucking Singhania.
Stretched out on my bed like he belonged there, my pajama set casually pushed aside, the book opened in his hands.
Reading. My book.
The audacity.
He glanced up from the page and gave me a look I wanted to slap off his face, a perfect mix of amusement and that trademark smugness.
"So," he continued, voice a low purr, "You enjoy kinky, smutty literature?"
"You sure have some... bold tastes, little one," he drawled, holding the book up like evidence in a trial.
I growled at him. "How dare yo-"
He nodded toward the book he still clutched. "Page 197. It's quite...graphic."
My cheeks burned out of embarrassment.
I didn't think.
I just snatched the book from his hands.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" I snapped. "And touching my stuff?! This is my room. My space. Get out!"
He didn't move.
He had the nerve to smirk.
"You are always so territorial when someone finds out your secret hobbies?"
I kept the book to the side and tried to shove him, but he caught my wrist mid-move, his grip firm but not cruel.
"Aapne sab hadein paar kar li hai Yuvan." (You've crossed every line) Yuvan." I seethed.
"Nahi, har had paar nhi ki hai abhi tak." (No, Not every line-yet ) he said, his voice lowering, tinged with something dangerous.
I tugged my hand back, but the wetness from my bathrobe made my movement clumsy. The next thing I knew, I tripped-and fell.
