The Veiled Hearts

🌹Riding Thrills🔪

Before I put on the helmet, I suddenly remembered that I needed to wear my fake beard and turban. I hurried back to the bedroom, searching everywhere but couldn't find them. Frustrated, I returned to the office, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of the missing items.

He was standing against his desk, arms crossed, watching me with a look that told me he was well aware of my growing unease. I didn't expect him to help, so I kept pacing back and forth between the office and the bedroom, hoping to find what I had misplaced.I heard a heavy sigh, and I knew exactly where it came from. Ignoring him, I bent down to look under the desk where I had hidden earlier.

Just as I was moving the chair to get a better look, I saw a pair of shiny shoes right in front of me. His feet. I forced myself to ignore him, focusing on my search, but then I turned slightly and found his face incredibly close to mine, so close it felt like we were sharing the same breath.

He was looking at me with an expression that made me feel like a lost child, as if he was there to offer whatever I needed. He pulled back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "What are you searching for, your brain?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery. The softness in his eyes never matches the sharpness of his words. His remarks always infuriated me.

I stood up quickly in anger but ended up banging my head on the desk. Before I could even reach up to rub the sore spot, his hand was already there, gently caressing the area.His actions always made me question my own motives.

Here was the CEO of Singhania Enterprises, on his knees under his own desk, caring for someone who had intruded into his mansion with undisclosed intentions, someone who claimed to become his veiled bodyguard with hurtful intentions. He knew all this, yet he was choosing to kneel beside me, to comfort me.

It wasn't the physical pain that hurt the most; it was the realization of my intentions. I had come to Singhania Enterprises with a mission-to hurt the man behind the letter, the one who showed no care for the families of those who had served him for five years.

All my thoughts were abruptly halted when I heard his voice again, gentle but firm, "Is self-harm a hobby of yours? Your beard and turban are in the bag."He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, "I've met enemies who wanted to harm me in brutal ways, but here I am, meeting someone new-someone who hurts herself first, then comes to me. Now, get up carefully. It's already late."

We both stepped out of his office, with him carrying two helmets and a bag containing my fake beard and turban in one hand, while his other hand was busy on his phone. As we waited in front of the elevator, I tried to sneak a glance at his screen, curious about what he was doing.

He caught me looking and, without missing a beat, smiled and said, "Dear Kitten, could you please press the elevator button? I don't have four hands, you know."I shot him an annoyed glance but quickly realized both his hands were indeed occupied holding so many things as my hands were injured.Begrudgingly, I pressed the button.