Mumbai smelled of rain and ambition that morning. Aaradhya Rao pushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear as she hurried across the marble floor of the Oberoi Hotel. Her sketchbook thudded against her side with every step.

Her boss had been unusually serious when assigning this client.

“Be professional. Be careful. And do not anger him.”

Who in the world needed that kind of warning for interior design?

She entered the private lounge—and froze.

A man stood with his back to her, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black shirt. Tattoos crawled across his muscular back like serpents carved in ink. He turned slightly, and her breath caught.

Green eyes. Piercing, cold, and ancient—like they’d seen death and made peace with it.

He looked at her as if she were not a person, but a question he wanted to solve.

“You’re late,” he said, his Italian accent smooth but edged with steel.

“S-sorry, traffic was—”

“Excuses are for the weak.”
He stepped closer. His height swallowed her presence, his scent—smoke and something dark—coiling around her.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Aaradhya,” she managed.

He tasted the syllables on his tongue. “Beautiful. Delicate.”
His eyes hardened.
“Easy to break.”

She stepped back, discomfort prickling her skin.

He smirked.

“I am Alessandro Valenti,” he said softly.
“The man who hired you… and the man you should fear.”

A chill shot down her spine.

She didn’t know then that this moment—this meeting—would burn her world to ashes.

She didn’t know he would become her obsession, her captor, her doom…
and the only man she would ever love.

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