Page 22 of One Hellish Desire

I can’t believe I’m defending Vikram’s actions.

“I’m sure,” Shyam fakes a smile. “Let me drop you home.”

“No,” I deny. I don’t want him to know I’m meeting Prince Pompous at Leela Mahal, not at home. It’s a famous VIP club in town. I don’t know why he called me there. “I mean, you’ve already wasted enough time today because of me. You should go home, have dinner, and rest. We’ll postpone this date for another day.”

Shyam gets up, and so do I.

“Maahi,” he stops me before I turn. “I know this date turned out to be a waste, but I have something for you.”

He removes a red rose from his suit’s inner pocket and hands it to me.

“For you.”

While this could be the most romantic gesture for any other woman, I don’t feel a thing. I’m worried I’m already late for Leela Mahal. I still take the rose.

“Thank you, Shyam.”

“Just a thank you?” His smirk reminds me of Prince Pompous’s, but more subdued.

Damn! Why am I comparing them? They’re nothing alike. Shyam is sober, calm, and considerate, whereas Vikram Singh Grover is everything I don’t want in a man.

Shyam comes forward. “When are you going to give me more than a thank you, Maahi?”

I’m speechless at his demand. Shyam sighs in understanding and leads me out. In minutes, I’m on my way to Leela Mahal, eager to know why Vikram called me there, and more importantly, I want him to know he can’t do this again. He can’t interrupt my life, my date, my schedule henceforth.

CHAPTER 7

MAAHI

Leela Mahal

I'm here - at the illustrious Leela Mahal. This elite members-only club has always enchanted me from the outside. I never imagined being granted entry to such an opulent, VIP establishment. Yet here I stand before the imposing entrance, unsure if I'll even be allowed inside without the requisite access card.

“Miss Awasthi?” A smartly dressed young woman approaches.

“Yes,” I nod, thrilled that she recognizes me.

“This way, please.”

She leads me through the entrance, and I can't help but marvel at the pristine silence blanketing the grand interior. For a club renowned for lavish parties hosting politicians and billionaires, I expected...more noise, more revelry. My modest maroon dress suddenly feels dreadfully underdressed amidst such staggering elegance and luxury.

“Mr. Grover is waiting for you through those doors,” the woman gestures to an imposing set of black double doors, flanked by two brutishly built guards.

“Thank you.”

As I approach, one of the guards moves to pat me down, but a stern command from the other side of the doors stops him in his tracks.

“Back off.”

Vikram emerges, dark eyes blazing a warning at the guards, who instantly retreat into rigid deference. With a curt nod, he pushes open the door, silently ushering me inside.

I slip past the threshold, already intimidated by Vikram’s domineering presence and this opulent setting. Plush red leather couches encircle the dimly lit, intimate space - clearly an exclusive VIP enclave amidst the larger club. A sleek bar runs along the far wall, and two additional doorways hint at even more extravagance lurking beyond.

“I expected you sooner,” Vikram remarks, checking his watch with a hint of impatience.

Snapping out of my awed observance, I turn to face him with a defiant lift of my chin. “I wasn't going to come at all, so you should be glad I'm here.”

He brushes off my retort, already stalking toward the bar. “Then I must say you enjoy following my commands.”

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