Aayra, a girl with dreams as vast as the sky, is in the prime of her college days, living a life filled with aspirations and plans. Coming from a middle-class background, she has always believed that hard work and dedication are the keys to success...
I went to my room and opened the bag that his men had brought. Most of my clothes and makeup had been brought here, with only a few items still left behind. I quickly freshened up, taking a moment to appreciate the luxurious shower and the calming ambiance of the room.
For the day, I chose a crisp black spaghetti strap top that complemented my fair skin. The top was delicately sheer and slightly draped, giving a soft, elegant silhouette. I paired it with white shorts that were both chic and comfortable, their high waist accentuating my figure. To complete the look, I accessorized with a simple golden earrings, their subtle shimmer adding a touch of sophistication. A pair of white sandals and sunglasses completed the ensemble, making me feel effortlessly stylish and ready for our day out.
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After dressing up, I emerged to find Arth already ready, seated on the couch while deep in conversation with Dante. Even in casual attire, he exuded an undeniable aura of authority. His black polo shirt clung to his muscular frame, showcasing his solid biceps and sculpted chest with every movement. The t-shirt, though simple, accentuated his powerful build, giving him a commanding presence that contrasted sharply with his usual sharp black suits. His posture and the intensity of his conversation only amplified his bossy demeanor, making him look irresistibly dominant and intensely captivating.
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As soon as I approached, Arth shifted his attention from Dante to me, his eyes sweeping over my entire figure as I confidently walked towards him, my hips swaying with a natural elegance. There was a hunger in his gaze, a barely concealed desire that made him momentarily pause as if he wanted to pull me in and kiss me right there. But instead, he controlled himself, slipping on his sunglasses to mask where his eyes lingered. Without a word, he extended his hand to me, a silent invitation to hold it, which I accepted as we made our way out of the penthouse.
As we were about to enter the private elevator, I noticed something intriguing: the entire floor appeared to belong to him. The only people around were his, all clad in identical black suits, each one wearing a particular type of ring on their pinky fingers. My eyes drifted to Arth's hand, particularly his index finger, where he too wore a ring-sleek and black, yet different from the others. The subtle distinction was clear: while they were his men, he was unmistakably the boss, the one in command. The ring was more than just an accessory; it was a mark of his authority.
