Demon's Physco obsession

Demands of a Drugged Heart

Ankita stared at the big Italian-styled mansion in front of her in awe. It rose before her, a monument to wealth and excess, its terracotta roof tiles glowing warmly under spotlights that painted the manicured lawns in an ethereal light. She wore a golden off-shoulder ankle-length dress paired with a dazzling diamond necklace and earrings, making her look exquisite in the spectacular lights that spilt from within the mansion's arched windows. She felt like a fragile butterfly pinned under a collector's gaze.

She gulped in fear as she involuntarily squeezed Adhiraaj's bicep as she got overwhelmed by her surroundings. It was all so...much. The sheer scale of the opulence pressed in on her, suffocating her with its unspoken expectations. Adhiraaj, who was dealing with the relentless flash of cameras and the insistent questions of the paparazzi, along with the guards struggling to maintain order, smirked as he felt her frail fingers tighten against his bicep. He knew she was intimidated. He also knew she was beautiful, and the thought pleased him.

He pulled her closely, his arm possessively circling her waist, and led her inside the mansion, successfully navigating the throng of reporters. The massive oak doors closed behind them with a hushed thud, shutting out the chaos of the outside world but ushering them into an even more overwhelming one.

Ankita gulped in fear as she stood at the entrance of the grand hall of the mansion. The crowd was a sea of impeccably dressed bodies, the dazzling lights bounced off crystal chandeliers, the loud music pulsed through the floor, and the flow of expensive drinks created a heady, intoxicating haze. It felt like a sensory overload. She felt light-headed, and the air was thick and difficult to breathe.

She took a step back, instinctively trying to escape this suffocation, but was inadvertently yanked back and wrapped in Adhiraaj's strong arms. He felt her tremble.

With a hesitant and soft voice, she said, "I...I don't think I can do this. I want to go back." Her voice was barely a whisper, lost in the noise. "I can't... I can't make it through the party."

Adhiraaj looked at her with genuine concern, his expression softening. He wasn't resistant to her vulnerability. "Hey," he said, his voice low and reassuring, cutting through the noise for her. "Look at me. Nothing will happen to you. You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you." He ran a thumb softly across her cheek. "Besides, Vincenzo is... well, he's like family, next to Ved. We had to attend this. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't have cared about these ridiculous parties."

A booming voice interrupted their conversation. "Adhiraaj! Ankita! I'm so glad you both could make it!"

Vincenzo, a man with a booming laugh, generous biceps straining against his tailored suit, and eyes that missed nothing, strode towards them, his presence radiating power. He clasped Adhiraaj on the shoulder, then turned his attention to Ankita.

"Ankita, my little sister!" he exclaimed, his voice full of warmth. "You look exquisite in that dress."

Ankita cowered more into Adhiraaj's chest, feeling exposed under Vincenzo's intense scrutiny. She felt a blush creep up her neck.

Adhiraaj, who looked dangerously handsome in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit accentuating his broad shoulders and waist, faked anger. "Hey, Vincenzo," he drawled, his voice laced with mock offence. "I'm here too, you know. Are you going to ignore me completely?"

Vincenzo threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Adhiraaj, my friend! If I give you too much attention, everyone will think we're fucking each other, which, thankfully, we're not! We are both married to beautiful girls! Besides, I see you're keeping her close, as you should." He winked, then slapped Adhiraaj on the back again.

"Come, come," Vincenzo said, ushering them further into the hall. "Drinks are flowing, and I have some people I want you to meet, Adhiraaj. Ankita, you stay close to him. This place is a jungle."