Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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Yash's lips were still inches from mine, when suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. I barely had time to process the change in atmosphere before a man, sharply dressed in a suit, entered . He bowed respectfully, though there was a palpable unease in his posture. Yash, his hold on my waist unwavering, glanced at the man with a look that made it clear he was not in the mood for interruptions. "What?" he asked, his tone sharp, though his eyes remained on me, making it clear he was speaking to the man.
The man's voice trembled slightly, as if he could sense the storm brewing within his boss. "Sir, over sixty percent of the seventy percent of people here are on our side, but two gangs are still refusing to align with us." His gaze dropped as Yash leaned in closer to my neck, clearly intending to kiss me again. I immediately pushed his mouth away, glaring at him and signaling with my eyes that now was not the time for such things. His response was a smirk, and I felt his hand rub my waist in a way that made my breath catch.
"Continue," Yash ordered, his voice deceptively calm.
The man gulped, clearly aware of the precariousness of his position. "Only REO and Jasper's gangs are still siding with Z. We've tried everything-money, threats, even dismantling parts of their operations-but they're unyielding. They're determined to see you dead, Boss." He huffed quietly, as if trying to contain his frustration at the situation.
My curiosity was piqued, but I also felt a surge of anger, stronger than before, at the thought of people wanting to kill Yash. The man went on, "Rakshit sir is awaiting your command, as both REO and Jasper's gangs are significant players in the Mafia world. Their alliance is crucial, not just for us, but for the Donnas as well."
I listened intently, my mind racing with questions. If money, threats, and even destruction hadn't worked, what exactly did these people want? And why were they so determined to take Yash down? The thought of more than half the people in that ballroom wanting him dead stirred something protective inside me, alongside my lingering anger at him for keeping me in the dark.
Yash's face was a mask of thoughtfulness, but before he could respond, I did something impulsive. My mind was buzzing with the possibilities, the thrill of the unknown, and the stakes of the situation. "Can I talk to them?" The words left my mouth before I could fully consider them, and Yash's entire demeanor shifted. His grip on me tightened as he straightened up, his eyes narrowing with concern.
"No," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "You're not getting involved in this."
But I was far from deterred. I met his glare with one of my own, my anger fueling my resolve. "You already involved me by bringing me here as your 'would-be queen,'" I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm.
Yash's silence was telling, but he still wasn't ready to concede. His jaw tightened, his eyes reflecting the internal battle between his protective instincts and his acknowledgment that I wasn't someone who could be easily dismissed.
