I should've forgotten about it by now.
The gala.
The slap.
The way she stood in front of a crowded hall, unflinching, unapologetic, fire burning in her eyes as she humiliated that man without a second thought. I should've moved on. Instead, it was still playing in the back of my mind like a song stuck on repeat.
I had seen women stand up for themselves before. But Avni? She wasn't just defending herself-she was fighting for someone else, someone she didn't even know.
That was different. That was her.
And now, days later, I found myself irritated by how much space she was occupying in my thoughts. I had spent my whole life around power, around people who only spoke when it benefited them. And yet, Avni Rajput had never once hesitated to call me out. That should have annoyed me but it didn't
I didn't meet people like her often-someone who didn't give a damn about my reputation, my money, or the fact that I could have anything I wanted with a single command. She wasn't impressed.
A knock on my office door pulled me out of my thoughts. "Come in." Aman, my assistant, stepped inside, placing a folder on my desk. "The reports you asked for, sir."
I nodded, flipping it open, scanning the numbers. Profits were up, expansion projects were on track-everything was running smoothly. I should've been satisfied.
Instead, my mind drifted back to a certain woman with sharp eyes and sharper words.
I shut the folder. "Anything else?" Aman hesitated. "Yes. There's a business dinner scheduled with the Rajput Enterprises and Khanna Group team next week. Should I confirm your attendance?"
Rajput Enterprises.
I exhaled slowly, tapping my fingers against the desk. So, I'd be seeing her again soon.
Interesting.
A smirk played on my lips. "Yes," I said. "Confirm it." Let's see what she had to say to me this time.
NEXT WEEK
I arrived at the restaurant without expectation.
It wasn't nerves. It wasn't anticipation. It wasn't anything at all-because if it were, that would mean she had gotten to me. And Avni Rajput was not the kind of woman who got under my skin.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
The restaurant was extravagant but in a quiet, calculated way-crystal chandeliers that cast golden light. The hum of conversations that mattered, the scent of money lingering in the air just as much as the expensive cologne of the men who sat at these tables.
The kind of place where deals were made with a handshake and broken with a smirk.
I stepped in, already aware of the attention my arrival drew.
I was used to it. It came with the name Aditya Singhania.
And then I saw her.
Avni Rajput.
Sitting across the room at the long, elegantly set table, her posture as sharp as her tongue. She was wearing a deep emerald dress, elegant yet severe, the kind of shade that commanded attention without asking for it. It suited her-because of course it did. She had this... presence. A kind that was effortless. A kind that demanded the world take her seriously.
And yet, the moment she saw me, I knew she wished she were anywhere but here.
I smirked. Perfect.
I strode over, unhurried, deliberate. Pulled out the chair directly across from her and sank into it with ease, stretching one arm over the backrest.
"Ms Rajput," I said lazily, letting the syllables drag just a little. She didn't blink. "Mr Singhania."
The dinner began, the kind of dull corporate talk I could participate in without a second thought. Investments, expansions, projections-things I could discuss in my sleep. I let them drone on, answering when necessary, but my focus wasn't on them.
It was on her.
She was controlled, polite, professional-too professional. She was pretending I wasn't there, and it was deliberate.
Which meant I had gotten to her. That thought was deeply entertaining.
So, naturally, I decided to make it worse.
I leaned back in my chair, tilting my glass slightly, watching her over the rim as I said, "How's your hand?" Her fingers froze around her wine glass for just a fraction of a second. Then, with practiced grace, she lifted it, took a slow sip, and placed it back down. "It's perfectly fine," she said smoothly. "But thanks for your concern."
She exhaled slowly, measuring her words. "Some things deserve immediate action. You wouldn't understand." I tilted my head. "Wouldn't I?"
She arched a brow. "No. Because for you, power is about control, not justice." I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table, looking her dead in the eyes. "And what would you call what you did that night?" She didn't hesitate. "Doing what was right."
Her certainty was annoying.
And intoxicating.
I watched her for a moment, taking in every detail-the fire in her gaze, the stubborn lift of her chin, the way she never backed down, not even when the entire room was listening. Then I smirked. "I suppose that makes you Delhi's moral savior?" Her lips curled into something sharp. "No. Just someone who won't tolerate men like you."
Before I could respond, someone cleared their throat.
An executive, awkwardly shifting in his chair, realizing he was sitting in the middle of a war zone.
"Shall we, um... move on to the next agenda?"
Avni turned away, effortlessly sliding back into business talk, as if I hadn't just pulled a match to our already burning dynamic.
I let her have it.
For now.
But as I sat there, watching her, one thing became painfully obvious. I wasn't done with her.
And, no matter how much she hated it-
She wasn't done with me either.
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