𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 #2
𝐶𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒
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Nitya Heer Tiwari had always been the strong one-the loyal friend, fierce and protective to her core.
But when tragedy strikes, h...
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I’m sitting in the corner seat, quietly observing the lively atmosphere around me, when I notice Aman walking toward us. His easy grin lights up the room, drawing the attention of nearly every woman in the club.
Yet, his gaze remains fixed on me, heated and intentional.
He’s dressed in a crisp white shirt paired with khaki pants, his hair slicked back neatly. The sight stirs something in me, an urge to run my fingers through his hair, to mess it up, to make it perfectly imperfect.
Handsome bastard.
When he nears our table, his grin suddenly melts off his face as he notices Bunny sitting beside me with a drink.
"Mr. Mehra!" Claire looks up at him from her place and gets up, "Glad you could make it to our party!" She says pretty much shouts over the blaring music.
Aman keeps glaring at Bunny who looks up in surprise.
"But this is only for the employees—" Bunny is cut off as Aman says, "I would like to have my seat back."
Everyone on our table falls silent as he looks expectantly at the guy sitting beside me, to get up.
"But this—" He starts to object but Claire interjects him by giving him a pointed glance.
"Akshay, why don’t you sit here next to me?" she insists, and Bunny gives me a look, one I can’t quite decipher before leaning down to murmur in my ear.
"We need to talk before we go home. Tonight." His tone is low, firm, leaving no room for argument. Before I can ask him what’s going on, he stands, giving up his seat to Aman.
I catch Aman’s intense gaze fixed on us the entire time, his jaw tightening and loosening as I glare at him in irritation.
He slides into the seat beside me, and I’m immediately surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and leather.
It’s intoxicating, and I instinctively shift away, trying to fight the urge to lean closer, to press my nose against his neck and inhale deeply.
My black, form fitting dress clings to me, the high slit on my left leg drawing attention I hadn’t anticipated.
When Aman’s warm, strong hand suddenly rests on my exposed thigh, I flinch at the unexpected contact. His large, veined hand grips my skin firmly, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
