Chapter 1 — The Devil Walks In

The club pulsed with deafening music, flashing lights, and the scent of expensive liquor and smoke. Powerful people filled the private lounge on the top floor, where deals worth millions were spoken about in calm voices behind crystal glasses.

Veeresh Dreewan sat in the center of the room like he owned the air everyone breathed.

Black suit. Cold eyes. A dangerous calmness.

His fingers tapped once against the glass of whiskey as one of his partners spoke about expanding their empire into India. The men around him were nervous despite being influential businessmen themselves. Veeresh had that effect on people.

“We need control over Mumbai ports first,” one of them said carefully. “Then the restaurant chains, hotels, nightlife—”

“I don’t need suggestions,” Veeresh interrupted smoothly, his voice low yet sharp enough to silence the table instantly. “I need results.”

The room fell quiet.

Veeresh leaned back lazily, though nothing about him was relaxed. “India is not difficult. People there worship power. We simply become more powerful than the men they already fear.”

One of the partners swallowed nervously and nodded.

That was when Veeresh’s gaze shifted.

Across the club floor.

A woman stood near the bar in a black strapless gown with a daring slit running up her leg. The deep neckline, diamond earrings, and heels made her look every bit untouchable, but her eyes told another story entirely.

Poornima Rathore.

She lifted another glass of alcohol to her lips, masking heartbreak with arrogance. Tonight, she wasn’t drinking for fun. She was drinking to drown the misery created by her own family.

Her father had made the decision final.

Marriage.

Not a question. Not a choice. Just another sacrifice expected from the unwanted daughter of the Rathore family.

Poornima laughed bitterly at something the bartender said, though her eyes remained empty. Men stared at her openly, but one cold glance from her was enough to make them look away.

Veeresh watched her silently.

“There,” one of his Indian partners suddenly spoke, noticing his gaze. “That’s Poornima Rathore. Owner of Rathore Flame. Biggest rising restaurant chain in Bangalore.”

Veeresh’s expression remained unreadable.

“She’s difficult,” the man continued carefully. “And arrogant. Doesn’t bow to anyone.”

A slow smirk appeared on Veeresh’s face for the first time that night.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

As if sensing his stare, Poornima turned.

Their eyes met across the crowded club.

And for one strange second, the noise around them disappeared.