The light slipped through the curtains—soft, golden, and warm—kissing Rehaan's skin as if the morning itself was trying not to disturb the silence in the room.
His lashes fluttered open slowly. A low breath left his lips as his eyes scanned the luxurious bedroom, briefly disoriented until it all came rushing back—
Vihaan.
Last night.
Those arms. That voice. That heat.
And how he'd fallen asleep, too easily, too fast.
He was still on the same side of the bed, wrapped under the satin sheets that smelled of Vihaan's cologne—spicy, deep, masculine. His body, usually tense by instinct, felt strangely rested. Safe, even.
But the space next to him… was empty.
He blinked. Sat up.
The bedsheet slid down his bare chest just as the sound of the bathroom door opening reached his ears. And then—
Vihaan appeared.
Fresh out of the shower. A towel hung low on his waist, water droplets sliding along his chiseled abs, chest rising with every slow breath. His damp hair fell over his forehead, a single rebellious lock curling slightly against his temple. The light behind him turned his silhouette into a carved statue—alive, dominant, quietly dangerous.
But Rehaan didn't flinch.
He didn't feel fear.
He only watched.
Vihaan paused as he noticed Rehaan awake. His lips tugged into a slight smirk, unapologetically confident, as he reached for a towel and patted the back of his neck. "You sleep like a kitten after raising hell," he said, voice still husky from the morning.
Rehaan looked away quickly—flustered, unsure of where to place his eyes. Anywhere but on the strong V-line leading into that towel.
"You didn't run," Vihaan added casually, picking up a black shirt and slipping it over his damp body, each muscle flexing as the fabric stretched. "That's… interesting."
"I was tired," Rehaan said stiffly, though his voice betrayed him by cracking slightly at the end.
Vihaan walked toward the bed slowly, like a panther stalking the edge of comfort and danger. He knelt on one knee on the edge of the mattress, gaze still fixed on Rehaan.
"You looked peaceful," he murmured, brushing a damp strand of Rehaan's hair back. "Didn't want to wake you."
"You didn't seem like the kind of man who'd… let someone rest," Rehaan whispered before he could stop himself.
Vihaan's hand paused on Rehaan's cheek.
"I didn't think I was either," he admitted softly. "But I told you, I didn't want to break you, Rehaan. I just wanted to hold you. Because that... was enough last night."
Rehaan swallowed hard. Something flickered in his chest—confusion, heat, maybe longing. He didn't want to name it.
"You were… gentle," he said at last, eyes lowering. "Not like that night at the club."
Vihaan let out a soft, sardonic chuckle. "The man you met that night doesn't care about names, hearts, or memories. He only comes out when the beast in me takes over."
Rehaan looked up.
"And last night?" he asked.
Vihaan leaned closer, inches from his face. "Last night, I wasn't a beast."
His lips brushed Rehaan's forehead—just a whisper of touch, no pressure, no heat.
"I was a man who wanted to feel human for once."
Silence wrapped around them like a second blanket.
Then Vihaan rose, grabbing his watch from the nightstand.
"There's breakfast downstairs. I had your favourite ordered again." His eyes glanced over Rehaan. "You can join me… or slip out quietly if you still think I'm dangerous."
Rehaan watched him leave the room, the quiet pad of his footsteps against the floor softening with distance.
But the echo of his words?
That stayed.
And for the first time in a long time… Rehaan didn't feel like running.The quiet clinking of cutlery was the only sound echoing in the sprawling, sunlit dining area of Vihaan's penthouse. The long table, draped in deep grey linen, was lined with carefully arranged breakfast platters—fresh croissants, tropical fruit, omelets perfectly folded, and warm coffee that filled the air with its rich aroma.
Rehaan sat across from Vihaan, holding his cup of coffee, eyes flicking toward the man who, just hours ago, had held him like something rare.
Vihaan Roy.
Unbothered. Poised. As if he hadn't just cracked a part of Rehaan open the night before. The morning light danced along his features—sharp jaw, strong brows, and those eyes. He sat calmly, slicing into his omelet with an elegance that didn't match the shadowy rumors attached to his name.
Rehaan's gaze lingered longer than it should've.
Vihaan didn't miss it.
Without lifting his eyes from his plate, he murmured smoothly, "Think about what I said last night, Rehaan."
Rehaan stiffened just a little. Their eyes met across the table.
"I meant it," Vihaan added, setting down his knife and fork and folding his hands under his chin. "I like you. No strings. No games. I don't need your answer now."
He tilted his head, watching Rehaan intently. "I just want you to think."
Rehaan didn't speak right away. His fingers drummed on the ceramic of his coffee cup.
"You do realize how complicated this is, right?" Rehaan finally said, voice low. "You're the owner of a high-profile airline tied into a CBI case. I'm a federal agent investigating you. And the last time we… met, it wasn't exactly under candlelight and roses."
Vihaan's lips curved into a smile, unapologetic.
"You think I care about roles and rules?" he asked softly. "I care about people. And I haven't found someone in a long time who made me pause in the middle of my own chaos. You did."
Rehaan held his stare. "You're making this sound easy."
Vihaan stood, pushing his chair back smoothly. He circled the table slowly, stopping beside Rehaan and placing a soft hand on his shoulder.
"It's not easy," Vihaan said, voice low. "But I've never wanted easy, Rehaan. I want what makes my pulse race. What makes me forget who I am when I'm around them."
Rehaan glanced up, slightly breathless under the heat of that confession.
Vihaan pulled back and walked to the side table, where a neat leather folder sat.
"Take this," he said, placing the folder in front of Rehaan. "All the VIP client data you came here for. It's clean. Cross-verify it with your team. Hand it to Kiaan."
Rehaan blinked, surprised.
"You're giving it all, just like that?"
Vihaan shrugged, lifting his blazer off the back of a chair. "I don't have to hide, remember? I already told you—I don't play dirty unless someone makes me."
He slid his arm into the blazer and turned, nodding toward the elevator. "I'll drop you to your apartment."
Rehaan stood, folder in hand, still dazed by the turn of the morning. There was no trap, no trick. Only honesty. Or at least… Vihaan's version of it.
As they walked to the private elevator, side by side in silence, Rehaan felt a new weight pressing down on him—not danger, but possibility.
Vihaan glanced sideways as they stepped inside the lift.
"No pressure, agent," he said, calm. "But if your heart beats a little faster the next time you see me, don't pretend it's just from duty."
The black car slowed to a halt outside Rehaan's apartment—the exact spot where this strange new twist had begun the night before. The engine's low hum ceased, and the quiet moment between them stretched into something heavier, fuller.
Vihaan stepped out first. The city breeze played through his dark hair as he walked around the car, his steps unrushed.
Rehaan followed, holding the folder filled with the very information they'd been hunting for days. It should've felt like a victory, but something about the way Vihaan looked at him made it feel like a beginning… not an end.
Vihaan didn't speak. He stood close, towering over Rehaan for a breath too long, then leaned in without warning. A soft kiss pressed onto Rehaan's forehead—unexpectedly tender.
Rehaan froze.
"I don't say goodbye," Vihaan murmured near his temple, "I say—until you need me again."
And then, just like that, he stepped back, slid into the driver's seat, and disappeared down the street—leaving behind silence and a storm in Rehaan's chest.
---
CBI Headquarters – 9:47 AM
The stark white corridors of the CBI Headquarters were a cold contrast to the warmth that had settled over Rehaan during the night. He strode through the metal doors, tension shadowing his steps, folder tight in his grip.
Inside the war room, Dev was pacing, half a cup of coffee in hand, while Kiaan sat behind the long desk, eyes sharp and expectant.
Rehaan entered, tossing the folder on the desk with a thud.
"Full list of Royic's VIP clients," Rehaan said, unzipping his jacket. "Passenger logs. Staff data. Clean and official."
Kiaan didn't waste time. He flipped open the file and scanned it quickly. "Where'd you get all this?"
Rehaan sat down, rubbing the back of his neck. "Vihaan gave it to me. Personally."
Dev turned, brows lifting. "Wait—you went inside his penthouse?"
Rehaan nodded, voice quieter. "Spent the night there."
Kiaan's head snapped up.
"What the hell, Rehaan?"
"It wasn't what you think," Rehaan cut in quickly, though his voice was still layered with something else. "There was no force. No tricks. He invited me to dinner, we talked, and he handed these files over like he wanted to be cleared."
Dev narrowed his eyes. "And you believe him?"
"I don't know what to believe," Rehaan admitted. "But those files are real. Verified entries. If there's a fake identity among them, we'll find it. He said as much himself."
Kiaan slammed the file shut. "And you trust a man who's been playing smoke and mirrors since day one? The owner of a billion-dollar airline who gave us nothing until now, and only when you showed up alone at his doorstep?"
Rehaan didn't flinch.
"He said something else too."
Both Dev and Kiaan looked at him.
"He said… he likes me," Rehaan added, eyes down, conflicted.
A beat of silence.
Dev sat on the desk's edge. "Rehaan, that man is a master manipulator. Maybe he likes you. Maybe he's just using that to buy your silence or distraction. You know what kind of people we're dealing with."
Kiaan leaned forward. "You can't lose focus now. We're close. One wrong step and we'll all be buried before we realize it."
Rehaan nodded slowly, heart pounding with the weight of everything unsaid.
"I know. I'm not stupid," he said quietly. "But I'm also not blind. There's more to him than we see. And maybe that's exactly why he's dangerous."
Dev sighed. "You're not the only one seeing ghosts behind that charm, Rehaan. Just don't let him be the one to write your end."
The late morning sun filtered into Vihaan Roy's high-rise office, where the skyline of the city glinted through the tall glass windows. The room was a perfect balance of sleek modern luxury and cold precision—like the man who sat behind the desk.
Vihaan leaned back in his leather chair, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled just below the elbow. The silence was thick, but he broke it with a single word:
"Call him in."
His assistant entered moments later, head slightly bowed, phone and notepad in hand, always alert.
Vihaan's tone was flat, but carried the weight of an unspoken storm. "I want you to inform every Royic Airlines branch—ground staff, crew, logistics, internal teams—whoever's tied to our operations… that from this moment on, they will fully cooperate with the CBI."
The assistant blinked, surprised. "Sir? Are you sure? Shouldn't we first filter—"
Vihaan's eyes lifted, glacial and sharp.
"I said," his voice turned lower, darker, "do as I say. No filters. No excuses. No delays."
The assistant hesitated only for a breath before nodding. "Yes, Mr. Roy. I'll issue the directive immediately."
"And one more thing," Vihaan added as the man turned to leave, "Tell them this isn't just for protocol. It's personal."
---
CBI Headquarters – 11:14 AM
Kiaan was flipping through the second file when Dev returned with coffee and placed it by his elbow. Rehaan sat on the edge of the table, sorting names and boarding data.
The phone rang.
Kiaan pressed the speaker button. "Kiaan here."
The voice on the other end was crisp, professional—but its contents made all three men freeze.
"Good morning, sir. This is Anil Verma, Managing Director of Royic Airlines. I've been instructed directly by Mr. Roy to inform you that full access to all airline data, logs, personnel files, and employee interviews has been granted. You and your agents may request any and all documentation. Staff at all airports and offices are already notified to comply with CBI."
Kiaan sat back, stunned. Dev's brows shot up.
"Wait—you mean full transparency?" Dev asked.
"Yes," came the reply. "As per Mr. Roy's words: 'Give them whatever they need, for as long as they need it.'"
Rehaan's fingers loosened around the file in his hand.
"Understood," Kiaan said cautiously. "We'll dispatch teams to regional branches today. Thank you."
As the line cut off, silence spread again.
Dev was the first to speak. "That's not just cooperation. That's... surrender."
Kiaan stood, pacing. "No. It's a trap."
Rehaan looked at both men. "Or it's something else. Maybe it's genuine."
Kiaan scoffed. "People like Vihaan Roy don't hand over empires to the law unless they've already cleaned up the mess."
"But that's the point," Rehaan said, pushing off the desk. "What if the mess is buried so well, even he knows we'll never find it in plain sight?"
Dev nodded slowly. "So either he's leading us into a dead-end maze… or…"
"Or he's inviting us to look," Rehaan finished. "Because he wants us to."
Kiaan turned sharply. "You're still defending him, aren't you?"
"I'm not," Rehaan said firmly. "I'm just saying—Vihaan doesn't act without a reason. He's either hiding something deeper... or he's trying to clear his name by putting us on the wrong scent."
Dev ran a hand through his hair. "So what now?"
Kiaan looked at them both. "Now? Now we dig. We spread the team. We search the very transparency he's offering—and we look under it."
His voice dropped, eyes narrowing.
"Let's see how real this 'green light' really is."