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ab padhlo padhlo.....I won't disturb (kesi lagi batana zrur mujhe)

Saloni's POV

I clenched my jaw, gripping the stem of my cocktail glass a little too tightly as I watched them. The way that girl giggled, lightly touching his arm, made my blood boil.

How could he?

"Ye kuch zyada ni chipak rahi mere shubhu se?" I muttered while glaring at that mannequin, my glare practically setting fire to her designer dress.

("Isn't she getting too touchy with my Shubhu?")

"Ghoorna band kar wo tujhe hi dekh rahi hay" Ruby whispered, but I barely registered her words.

("Stop staring, she is looking at you only")

"Dekhne de,"  I snapped, before turning to her with newfound rage. "Agar isne agle 5 second m apni finger uske bicep se ni hatayi to mai isko ganji kar dungi"

("Let her, if she didn't remove her finger from his bicep within 5 sec I am gonna snap her finger of")

Ruby choked on her drink. "Arey, shaant hoja meri maa"  she tried to soothe me, but the inferno in my chest was already raging.

Before I could reply, a deep voice interrupted.

"Would you like to dance?"

This is not Shubham's voice. 

My head snapped in the direction of the interruption, and I found myself staring into a pair of grey eyes. This guy was tall and had sharp features- still not as good looking as-

Stop it! Stop thinking about that kutta. I scolded my brain, but the traitorous thing refused to listen.

I looked at how this guy who was rubbing the back of his neck.

Nervous. cute. I like it.

I must've been staring too long because Ruby coughed pointedly beside me, dragging me back to reality. It gave wrong idea to not only one but two people. 

As that's when I felt it.

His burning gaze on me. 

A wicked thought entered my mind.

Let's play a game, shall we, Mr. Cutie Nervous Guy?. 

I tilted my head slightly, lips curving into an almost-innocent smile. Almost.

"I don't even know your name, Mr...?" I trailed off, batting my lashes just a little.

From the corner of my eye, I saw it. The way his grip tightened on the glass.

"If he tightened his hold more the glass might break in his hand" I thought.

"Vikram... Vikram Roy," the stranger introduced himself

"Oh, Mr. Roy," I hummed, rolling the name on my tongue like I was testing its taste. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Saloni Bhargava."

He smiled, nodding. "Nice name... so, umm, can I have a dance? Please?" he asked, extending his hand toward me, his expression hopeful.

I didn't look at him.

I looked at Shubham.

His jaw was clenched so tight I swore I could hear his teeth grind. Those dark eyes? They were pure black now.

Jesus, could they get any more darker?

I placed my hand in Vikram's, my touch featherlight.

And I smirked. 

Internally of course, use thodi na dikhaungi. Tum log bhi na kesi batein krte ho sab. 🤭🤭

——

Shubham's POV

As always, I watched her from a distance—my little wolf—dancing, giggling, glowing. My baby. I loved how her eyes shine when she thinks about dancing or how she gets excited for an ice cream or how she gets raged about injustice. That's what I loved most about her—the fire and the softness. She could tear someone apart with her words, fierce and unrelenting, yet in the next moment, she'd be pouting over a lost scrunchie like a child. A paradox I could never resist. That's why I named her little wolf. 

I smiled at the thought, but my moment of peace was shattered when Ms. Shayana walked up to me. I didn't know children of my business partners were also here. She is 3 years younger than us, yeah she doesn't look like but she is. Future heir to her mother's business. Unwillingly, I had to divert my attention from my little wolf to her as she is not someone I could outright ignore.

So, I indulged her in small talk—business, mostly—nodding when necessary. But my mind? It was elsewhere.

It was fixated on the girl who was currently sitting at the bar, looking at a glass filled with something she had no business drinking.

What the fuck?

My body stiffened. She doesn't drink. She has never once touched alcohol, always claiming she had no interest. Then why—

And before I could fully register what was happening, a guy—some random bastard—walked up to her and leaned in.

My grip on my glass tightened.

The audacity.

His lips moved. He was asking her something. Dance? It must be dance. My jaw clenched so tight I could hear my own teeth grinding.

And then, she did the unthinkable.

She looked at me.

For the briefest moment, our eyes met—a silent war.

Was she seeking permission? Confirmation? Or was she playing with me?

And before I could step in, before I could end this nonsense, she turned back to him—smiled sweetly—and placed her hand in his.

Something sharp cut through my chest.

I didn't know whether it was fury or something far worse.

I barely heard a word of what Ms. Shayana was saying now. Just nodded mindlessly. My entire being was trapped in the sight of a five-foot menace in black, with irresistible eyes walking towards dance floor hand in hand with that bastard. 

She had no idea.

No fucking idea who she belonged to.

And that's when I moved.

Drink abandoned, conversation forgotten—my entire focus was on her. On him. My little wolf wanted to play with fire? Fine. 

That hand in hers? I'd rip it off. That smile she gave him? Mine. Every inch of her—mine.

I stalked toward them, fists clenched so tightly my knuckles must have turned ghostly white. My blood roared in my ears, my pulse a savage drumbeat of restraint—restraint that was slipping with every second that bastard's hand stayed on her.

Mine.

The word echoed in my head like a vicious prayer. My body burned with the need to tear him away from her and to mark her in ways no man would dare question again. She was mine to dance with. Mine to hold. Mine to ruin. Mine to worship.

And yet, for all my hunger, for all my madness, I couldn't let her see the full depth of it. Not yet. She wasn't ready for the storm I had kept caged for so long, the beast that had spent years watching, waiting, aching.

I had been a coward. Too afraid of losing her. Too afraid of tainting what we had. But that fear? It didn't exist anymore. Not when she was swaying in the arms of someone else.

No more hesitation. No more waiting. She was mine—by hook or by crook.

I wasn't a saint. I never had been. But for her? I would have built temples. Burned empires. Torn my own soul apart if it meant she would touch me the way she was touching him now.

But she would.

Because I'd make sure of it.

Because I was hers.

Hers since the moment those fiery eyes locked onto mine. Hers since she first said my name like it belonged to her. I had given my soul, my body and whatever that thing which circulates blood in my body to her. Hers, completely, hopelessly, in ways I could never undo.

And tonight? She'd finally understand it. 

——

Batao batao...kese lag rahe hay characters? 😏😏

aur storyline? does it seem something new and different?

Chalo, cuties vote bhi kardo, sirf silent readers banke kya faida 🤭🤭

Acha Acha, it's totally upto you mai target ni daalna chahti plus mai itni bhi koi badi author ni hu ki targets post karu.....still show some love to your pyaari si author 🤗