𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

32⚚ Head on

Vencie POV:

Amaira looked up from the file she was signing, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw Viraj walking into the room with a steaming coffee cup in hand. She grinned as he placed it gently on the desk in front of her.

"You look tired, baby. Why don't you take some rest, hmm?" he murmured, brushing his knuckles softly against her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, her heart fluttering. "Just a few more hours, Vijulu, and I'll be done," she replied, her voice warm but firm.

Viraj hummed, sitting on the desk in front of her as she took the coffee cup, her lips curving into a content smile at the first sip. She let out a small moan, savoring the rich flavor.

"God, this is good," she said dramatically.

Viraj raised an eyebrow. "Good? That's all you have to say? I made that with love, Vixen. You're supposed to say it's divine, like me."

Amaira snorted, rolling her eyes. "Divine? You? Oh, please, Vijulu. You're just lucky you have these dimples. They save you."

"Excuse me?" Viraj pouted, placing a hand on his chest as if she had stabbed him. "My dimples? Baby, I'm the full package. Handsome, strong, talented—"

"Annoying, dramatic, and a little too obsessed with me," she interjected, smirking at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

"Too obsessed? That's impossible," Viraj retorted, his voice dripping with mock indignation.

"You're the one who wears my hoodies 24/7. Let's not forget how you sneak into my wardrobe every other day."

Amaira gasped, feigning offense. "I don't sneak! I borrow. There's a difference."

"Borrow? Baby, I haven't seen half my clothes since I moved in," Viraj shot back, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"Maybe because they look better on me," she said with a triumphant grin, her sass unmatched.

Viraj groaned, throwing his head back in defeat. "Why did I fall for someone who always wins every argument?"

"Because I'm amazing," Amaira quipped, shrugging casually as she finished the last sip of her coffee.

Viraj huffed, folding his arms and pouting like a child. "One of these days, I'll win a bickering match, you just wait."

"Sure, Vijulu. Keep dreaming," she teased, patting his cheek patronizingly.

Suddenly, without warning, Viraj pushed her chair back, his mischievous smile sending a thrill down her spine. He knelt in front of her, his eyes glinting with playful intensity.

And then, to her utter shock, he started singing.

"I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master,
I wanna make your heartbeat run like rollercoasters..."

Amaira burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as he continued.

"I wanna be a good boy, I wanna be a gangster,
'Cause you could be the beauty, and I could be the monster."

"Vijulu, what are you doing?" she managed between giggles, her cheeks hurting from how much she was smiling.

But before she could say anything else, Viraj stood up and, in one swift motion, scooped her up into his arms. Amaira let out a startled squeal, instinctively wrapping her legs around his hips as he held her securely.

"Viraj!" she exclaimed, her heart racing.

Viraj carried her effortlessly, pinning her gently yet firmly against the wall. His strong hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as if he could never bear to let her go.