The next day dawned with Jaipur’s skies painted gold and crimson. The grand hall of Poornima’s five-star hotel bustled with energy—dealers, industrialists, collectors, and media all gathered under one roof.

Poornima, in an elegant ivory saree with emerald jewelry, stood tall as the host. Her team scurried around, handling registrations, welcoming guests, arranging the auction items. She radiated confidence, her every move precise and graceful.

And then—he arrived.

Veeresh Raj.

Sharp black suit. Cold eyes. The aura of a man who owned every room he walked into. His entry silenced conversations, and heads turned instinctively.

Their eyes locked. Sparks. Challenge. Fire.

Poornima lifted her chin slightly, refusing to break the stare. “Welcome, Mr. Raj,” she said smoothly, her tone polite but edged with steel.

“Mrs. Raj,” he replied with equal sharpness, stressing the title. His gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, sending shivers down her spine despite her composed smile.

The auction began.

Poornima commanded the stage with ease, introducing rare art, ancestral jewels, and heritage artifacts. Bids rose, voices echoed, paddles lifted. Veeresh sat calmly, analyzing, calculating, waiting for his moment.

When one prized item came forward—an ancient royal sword with a bloodline history—Veeresh finally raised his hand.

“Fifty crores.” His voice cut through the room like steel.

Gasps echoed.

Poornima smirked faintly. Of course, he’d make an entrance like this.

Others joined, but the duel quickly boiled down to two people—Veeresh and another tycoon. The intensity was palpable, the atmosphere charged.

Finally, Veeresh leaned back casually, locking eyes with Poornima as he raised the bid higher than anyone dared. Silence fell. The gavel struck.

“Sold to Mr. Veeresh Raj.”

Applause filled the hall. Veeresh rose, buttoning his blazer, his gaze never leaving hers.

Later, as the crowd dispersed and her team wrapped up the event, Poornima was checking details near the stage when Veeresh approached.

“You handled it well,” he said, his tone softer than usual, almost… admiring.

Poornima arched a brow. “Was that a compliment, Mr. Raj? I didn’t think you knew how to give those.”

He smirked, stepping closer, voice low. “Don’t get used to it. I still came here for business, not for you.”

Her heartbeat betrayed her calm exterior, but she tilted her head. “Good. Because I don’t need you here for me.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence—two strong wills locked in an invisible battle, attraction simmering under the surface neither dared to name.

Enemies in business. Rivals in pride. Yet something unspoken lingered between every word.