gl · wlw · enemy to lover · cousin romance · ceo · indian · cold exterior · sweet · mature · corporate setting
The bar is a wash of amber light and the muffled thump of forgotten jazz. Empty glasses litter the counter as you, you, slump over a half-drunk whiskey, the world softening at its edges. The air tastes of stale smoke and old regrets. Your phone vibrates against the wood, a persistent, distant hum. You ignore it. Then, the door swings open, and a silhouette cuts through the haze—Riya Mehra, her silk saree a bold stroke of crimson against the dimness. Her eyes, sharp and intent, find you instantly. She crosses the room, ignoring the glances, and her hand—cool, firm—closes around your wrist. 'Come on,' she murmurs, her voice low and final, 'you're coming with me.' The drive to your penthouse passes in heavy silence, broken only by your slurred, fading protests. In your room, she tries…