The air outside was thick with monsoon humidity.
A slow drizzle kissed the city’s empty streets, washing away the day’s dust but not the sins buried in its alleys.

It was 2:13 AM, and in a silent apartment in one of the most luxurious corners of Mumbai, a man stood barefoot near the glass window, in his loose pajamas and messy hair, holding a half-empty glass of whiskey. The ice inside had melted hours ago—much like the fire that once burned in his eyes.

He wasn’t sleeping. He rarely did. His past dont let him sleep, haunting him every night making him insomniac.

The nights often reminded him of the parts of himself he tried to hide in the daylight—ruthless, broken, possessive. His mind was a battlefield, and his heart… well, it had long stopped fighting.

To the world, he was a powerful name. Untouchable. Untamed. Ferocious. A man who could break empires with a single phone call.

The Rajveer Singhania, a name which holds power, danger and a aura which can make other shiver.

He wasn’t expecting any company.  

Just then—

Ding-dong.

He blinked.

Once.
Twice.
Again.

The doorbell rang with urgency, pulling him out of his trance. No one ever dared come to his house without notice. No one dared to disturb him at this hour. The only possibility? The arrangement he’d made earlier that night with no real intention to follow through.

“Must be the agency,” he muttered under his breath, setting the glass down.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open.

There she was.

A girl.

Drenched slightly from the drizzle, standing with a nervous smile and trembling fingers, adjusting the hem of her black bodycon dress. Her makeup was perfect, yet her eyes… they were anything but prepared. They held hesitation, vulnerability, and a strange defiance, as if she’d fought hard to make it this far.

“Sir… I’m the one you called for tonight,” she said softly. “Remember?”

Rajveer looked her up and down—not like a predator, but like a man trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t ask for.

For a second, he said nothing.
Then a small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh yes… I remembered. You’ve come already? I thought you’d come in the evening. I must say, your service is really fast..”

He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come inside. Have a seat. I’ll bring you some water. Maybe snacks too—you are looking very tired, is everything all right. Have you faced any problem while coming here.” He asked her, his face showing concern and his forehead creased with worry for her.

She blinked. That wasn’t the greeting she was expecting. Not the lust-filled smirk but a care shown in eyes, which is unfamiliar to her. Not the impatient pull. Just… kindness? Confusing. Disarming.

She hesitated before stepping in. The room smelled like warm musk and faint sandalwood. Masculine. Dominant. But clean.

“You don’t have to be nice,” she mumbled, sitting on the edge of the large suede couch.

Rajveer paused as he walked toward the kitchen. “I'm not really a nice person,” he said over his shoulder. “I'm just a bit well-mannered. And you're a human being, not a toy..”

She didn’t respond.

Inside the kitchen, Rajveer searched for something to offer. A bottle of mineral water. A few biscuits. An apple. He placed them on a tray. He wasn't trying to impress her. He just didn’t believe in treating anyone like they were disposable.

But as he turned around, he sensed her behind him.

“You okay?” he asked casually without looking.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you,” she replied.

He finally turned—and his eyes locked with hers. A flicker of something passed between them.
Not desire.
Not gratitude.
Something else.

He took a slow step forward.
Then another.
And another—until the distance between them vanished, and her back hit the cold kitchen slab. Her breath hitched.

He leaned in, placing a hand beside her, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
“I’m not a gentleman on the bed. Wanna know why?”

His lips brushed her earlobe. She shivered.

Before she could answer, he stepped back—just far enough to make her miss his warmth.

“Drink water,” he said coolly. “And eat. You’ll need your strength.”

They sat in silence for a while. She nibbled on a biscuit, licking the chocolate off her fingers. He watched her quietly, amused by the way she blushed under his gaze.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

A pause.

“…Siya.”

“Hmm.” He repeated it like a secret. “Siya. Pretty name.”

She swallowed hard. “And you? I mean… I know you’re rich. And clearly powerful. But…”

He raised a brow. “But?”

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who hires girls. You seem like the kind who’s used to taking whatever he wants.”

His smirk returned. This time darker. “And what if tonight… I just wanted someone to take care of?”

She didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t trained for softness.

Before she could speak again, he leaned forward, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was light, but it sparked something dangerous.

“You’re scared,” he whispered. “Not of me. But of being touched without being seen.”

Her eyes widened. No one had ever read her like that.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, voice shaking.

Rajveer exhaled. “Maybe I’m still figuring that out.”

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was that Rajveer Singhania had already seen her once before.

On a dark street. Running. Broken. Bleeding. Trying to escape a nightmare disguised as a transaction.

And that night, something inside him had snapped.

He hadn’t rescued her then. But he would now.

He’d make sure she never had to sell herself again.
He’d make sure she’d never belong to anyone but him.

Whether she was ready or not, her fate had already changed the moment she rang his doorbell.

And for Rajveer?

That sound… that bell…
It had ranged straight through his soul.