Location: Swindon HQ — Director's Office
The tension in the room was so thick it could've been sliced with a blade.
Kiaan stood in front of the polished mahogany desk, fists clenched, veins visible on his neck. Across from him sat Joint Director Raghav Kapoor and Director Arvind Bansal, both seasoned, sharp-eyed, but visibly uncomfortable under the pressure of what had just been spoken.
The door clicked shut behind him as Vihan, Tara, and Dev waited outside—silent, knowing this battle belonged to Kiaan alone.
Kiaan took a step forward, his voice loud but steady, rage simmering beneath his control.
"You're asking me to close the Velvet Crown case file?"
His voice trembled—not from fear, but from the magnitude of helplessness.
"After everything we saw in that basement? After every shattered girl we pulled out from that hellhole?"
Director Arvind looked away, his fingers drumming the desk slowly.
Raghav cleared his throat, trying to remain calm.
"Kiaan… this came from above. The clients involved are powerful. Diplomats. Corporate heads. Some are directly connected to European intelligence. We cannot move forward without shaking the entire system—"
"Let it shake!" Kiaan snapped, his voice rising.
"Let the damn system collapse if that's what it takes to get justice! You saw those girls, sir. Some of them couldn't even speak. One was only fourteen—you know what that means?"
"We know, officer." Arvind finally spoke. Cold. Measured. "But those girls refuse to testify. Without them, there is no case."
Kiaan's chest rose and fell violently. His wrist itched. The one with the inked mark—the cursed name carved into his skin like a brand.
Raghav looked directly at him, darkly.
"Do you think we don't remember who you belong to?"
He leaned forward. "That tattoo you carry… That name on your wrist. You think if he can do that to you, what he's capable of doing to us? To this department?"
Kiaan's eyes burned.
"You're afraid of Reyaan." His voice lowered dangerously. "A man who tortures, traffics, and murders. And you let him roam free—just because he doesn't leave evidence? Just because he's more powerful than the law?"
Arvind slammed his palm on the table suddenly.
"It's not that simple, Kiaan!"
Silence followed. Thick. Violent.
Kiaan took a shaky breath, his lips curling into something between a smile and a scream.
"You know what's worse than evil men doing evil things?"
He leaned in, both hands on the desk now, close enough to smell the cowardice in the air.
"Good men who know about it—and do nothing."
Raghav looked pained but said nothing. Arvind looked away.
"So that's it?" Kiaan asked bitterly. "All the pain. All the evidence. All those girls sold like products—and we wrap it up in a file and bury it because your necks are too valuable?"
Raghav finally looked up, guilt all over his face.
"We don't have a choice."
Kiaan's laugh was hollow.
"I do."
They looked at him.
He straightened his back, eyes now like ice.
"You can lock the file. Close the case. Erase the paper trail."
He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed them a photo—grainy, but unmistakable. A client's face. One of the so-called untouchables.
"But I don't need your permission to hunt."
Arvind's eyes widened.
"Kiaan. This isn't how we operate."
"That's exactly the problem." Kiaan turned to leave, stopping at the door.
"You follow protocols. I follow pain."
He opened the door and walked out.
Outside, Dev looked up.
"What did they say?"
Kiaan's lips twisted.
"They said justice is expensive."
He glanced at his wrist. "They forgot some people already paid the price."
Location: Rehaan's Apartment — Morning
The apartment door creaked open with a soft click, letting in a quiet chill and a man dressed in dark blue denim and an effortlessly casual smirk.
Vihan Roy.
He stepped in like he owned the place.
"So… this is what an agent's den looks like?" he murmured, amused, letting his eyes travel across the tidy chaos. His boots clicked against the floor as he walked deeper in, scanning the whiteboard covered in scribbled notes, crime scene photos, red threads connecting faces, and newspaper clippings. A soft chuckle escaped his throat. "A bit cliché, isn't it? Whiteboards and pins?"
He stopped.
Then his eyes caught it—his own photo. A surveillance still. A snapshot of him laughing outside a club. Another—him talking to someone suspicious near a car. Then a third—blurry, but definitely Vihan at an airport a month ago.
Vihan tilted his head and whistled. "Wow… so thorough."
His voice dropped a little, laced with teasing disbelief.
"You even investigated me, huh?"
He looked around until he saw Rehaan entering from the hallway, towel slung over his shoulder, hair slightly damp, shirt half-buttoned.
Vihan's smirk deepened.
"You know, stalking your boyfriend like this is very unhealthy."
Before Rehaan could say a word, Vihan closed the distance in two long strides, yanked Rehaan by the collar, and wrapped his arms around him—his grip strong but affectionate. He leaned in, lips brushing close to Rehaan's ear, his voice barely above a murmur.
"You could've just asked me, little one…"
Rehaan's breath hitched. His eyes narrowed slightly but the corner of his lips twitched.
"I wasn't stalking. It's standard procedure. You showed up in two cases." Rehaan's voice remained steady, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.
Vihan grinned.
"Two? You're underestimating my mischief record, baby."
He trailed his fingers down Rehaan's bare arm, goosebumps rising beneath his touch.
"I just came because someone has been busy running behind drug trails and disappearing at night like Batman with a badge."
Rehaan rolled his eyes, but Vihan cut him off by gently cupping his jaw.
"I missed you."
Rehaan looked at him, silently, unreadable. But his fingers unconsciously curled around the edge of Vihan's shirt.
Vihan leaned his forehead against Rehaan's.
"I'm heading to the office. Want to tag along? I'm feeling generous—I might just show you what a day looks like in the kingdom of Roy Enterprises."
Rehaan raised an eyebrow. "You want an NCB officer roaming inside your tech firm?"
"No." Vihan grinned. "I want my boyfriend there. Big difference."
Rehaan let out a slow sigh, smirking despite himself.
"Fine. But if I find anything illegal in your office—"
"You'll arrest me in bed tonight?" Vihan teased, fingers brushing the back of Rehaan's neck.
"I'll bury you in paperwork," Rehaan replied dryly, pushing him back slightly.
"Kinky," Vihan winked.
Rehaan rolled his eyes, heading to grab his jacket while Vihan watched him, still smiling—but beneath the smirk, there was something deeper in his gaze. Something possessive. Something almost protective.
He glanced once more at the photos on the board.
And whispered, "You won't need to investigate me anymore, little one. Whatever you want to know… I'll tell you."
The black Rolls-Royce glided to a stop at the towering chrome-and-glass gates of Roy Enterprises, one of the most guarded corporate buildings in England—where even a whisper of identity mismatch was enough to revoke access permanently. As the guards approached, Vihan Roy casually rolled down the tinted window and tossed his car key to them with effortless authority.
"Park it soft. She's got a temper if scratched," he smirked, stepping out.
Beside him, Rehaan straightened his shoulders, eyes taking in the silent security towers, hidden scanners, and strategically placed guards with trained precision. His fingers hovered over his belt instinctively—a man used to weapon weight—but today, he carried nothing but instincts and sharp observation.
Vihan glanced at him and chuckled.
"Don't stiffen up like an agent, Rehaan. It's my company, not a cartel compound."
"Feels like both," Rehaan muttered, his tone dry, but his eyes scanning everything.
They walked through the main lobby. Every employee they passed bowed slightly, murmuring "Good morning, Mr. Roy," with clear respect. Vihan nodded at them casually but didn't slow down. It was clear—he ruled this space.
As they reached the executive elevator and it slid open, Vihan leaned closer to Rehaan, teasingly whispering,
"Don't worry. No hidden cameras in my office... just your boyfriend's charm."
Rehaan rolled his eyes. "God help your HR department."
Ding.
The doors opened to the top floor—the Roy Private Chamber. Modern, vast, and dark-wood furnished with a panoramic view of London skyline. But Rehaan halted abruptly at the threshold.
Someone else was already inside.
Sitting in Vihan's leather chair like he owned the goddamn empire—Reyaan Malhotra. The aura in the room shifted. The air tightened.
"Reyaan?" Vihan's voice was surprised, but a familiar smile bloomed on his lips as he stepped forward. "When did you drop by? Didn't expect you to crawl out of your shadows today."
Rehaan froze. His breath caught in his chest.
So this… this was him?
Reyaan Malhotra.
The ghost behind untraceable syndicates. The man whose name burned through classified files.
Now in front of him—in flesh and dominance.
Reyaan didn't bother to look at Rehaan as he stood.
"Still dragging an agent on your hip?" he asked Vihan bluntly.
Vihan laughed. "He's fun to drag."
His eyes flicked to the silent figure behind Reyaan—Kevin, standing stiff, alert like a soldier. Young. Fresh. And clearly not a businessman.
"New trainee?" Vihan asked, amused. "That boy's still got baby fat, Reyaan. You sure he won't shatter under your command?"
Reyaan stepped forward slowly, calm but intimidating.
"He learns or breaks. Either way, he's useful."
Vihan slung an arm casually over Reyaan's shoulder as if they weren't standing in a room pulsing with unspoken tension.
"You know, you still haven't changed," Reyaan said flatly, his voice barely hiding irritation.
"After all you've become… still this reckless?"
Vihan smirked, eyes glinting. "And you? Still cold enough to freeze hell over? Look, we all carry our curses, darling. Mine's charm. Yours is silence."
Rehaan watched them—two predators in different skins. But then Reyaan extended his hand toward Vihan. A silent demand.
Vihan immediately understood. His smirk faded, his eyes grew serious.
He pulled a pendrive from his inner coat pocket and placed it in Reyaan's palm without a word.
"Handle this like it's a trigger, Reyaan. Because once you open it... I'm not stepping in. Whatever you do after this—it's all you."
Reyaan's fingers curled around the drive like a weapon.
He turned to walk away, but as he passed Rehaan, he stopped and gave him one piercing glare—sharp enough to slice confidence off a man's bones.
Rehaan didn't blink. He held the gaze.
Reyaan smirked faintly, then left, Kevin trailing behind him like a shadow tied to fire.
The room fell silent again.
Vihan exhaled and threw himself onto the couch, arms wide, the arrogant charm returning.
"Well… that was your first live encounter with the Devil, sweetheart. How did it feel?"
Rehaan was still staring at the door Reyaan had exited from, his voice low.
"Like meeting a storm that knows your pulse."The air inside Roy Enterprises' top-floor office had shifted. The echo of Reyaan's departure still lingered in the silence like the smoke of a slow-burning fuse. Vihan, now leaning back casually against his conference table, folded his arms across his chest and let out a soft laugh.
"Expected answer," he said with a smirk, nodding toward the door. "He's like that only—stoic, cold, and impossible to offend. Don't mind him, alright? And remember…" he tilted his head, eyes locking onto Rehaan with an almost warning glint, "you came here as my boyfriend, not some brooding agent on a mission. So stop scanning the walls like you're about to interrogate them."
Before Rehaan could retort, the door cracked open and Rahul, Vihan's assistant, stepped in with his usual urgency.
"Sir, the meetings with the Argon Consortium and Delcroix Holdings—"
Vihan raised a finger. "Postpone it all till tomorrow." His tone was calm, but final.
"Tell them to send someone else for preliminary discussion. And if they send idiots who can't answer my questions, the deal's off. I don't waste pen ink on incompetence."
Rahul blinked. "Understood, sir."
As the assistant turned to leave, Vihan's voice dipped lower, like thunder behind velvet.
"And Rahul—make sure no one comes in. Until I say."
The door shut again, this time with intent. Silence fell. It wasn't empty. It was loaded.
Vihan didn't walk—he prowled. He reached Rehaan in two slow steps, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in close. Rehaan's breath hitched, even if he didn't show it.
"You always look like you're planning ten steps ahead," Vihan murmured near his ear, voice teasing and low.
"But right now… forget those ten steps. Just take one. Here. With me."
Before Rehaan could fully respond, Vihan pulled back slightly and walked to his leather chair, only to grab Rehaan by the wrist and pull him gently but firmly onto his lap.
Rehaan gasped softly as he found himself straddling Vihan, his legs either side of him, their faces inches apart.
Vihan's arm snaked around his waist, holding him there, while his other hand slid slowly down to Rehaan's thigh, his fingers grazing the fabric, not rushing, just feeling. The closeness was suffocating in the most maddening way.
"You're tense again," Vihan said, eyes locked onto Rehaan's lips.
"Agent mode is sexy, but not when I want you to melt."
Rehaan didn't speak—his breath shallow. He could feel Vihan beneath him—his body, his intent, the unspoken fire.
Vihan tilted his head, lips just barely brushing against Rehaan's but not kissing—not yet.
"What's stopping you, Rehaan?" Vihan whispered.
"Me? Or you?"
Rehaan's hand found its way to Vihan's shoulder, his fingers curling against the fabric of his expensive suit.
"You're dangerous when you're like this," he whispered back, his voice strained with restraint.
"You knew that the first night you looked at me like I was a problem you wanted to solve," Vihan replied, smirking, his thumb gently tracing circles over Rehaan's waist.
For a long second, neither moved. The tension wasn't broken—it was stretched, deliciously taut.
And then Vihan leaned in again—his lips ghosting Rehaan's cheek this time, his breath warm.
"Say something, little one. Before I decide for both of us."
Inside the high-rise walls of Roy Enterprises, the world outside faded to a blur. Time didn't matter here—not when Vihan Roy, England's untouchable business magnate, had Rehaan sitting in his lap, caught between the gravity of dominance and the ache of affection.
Vihan's fingers slid lower, tracing the lines of Rehaan's back before settling on the curve of his waist—firm, confident, claiming. Then, with one hand still anchoring Rehaan against him, his other palm moved downward—resting possessively over Rehaan's backside, giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze that made Rehaan's spine stiffen in surprise.
"Your boyfriend's like this, Rehaan," Vihan whispered, voice dipping to a gravelly growl that vibrated against Rehaan's chest.
"So learn to be with me like this. Because I won't ask permission to touch what's mine."
His breath fanned against Rehaan's ear, words dripping in warmth and warning.
**"I don't care what badge you wear, what cases you chase—**because for me, you're not an agent. You're just... mine. And I don't share."
Rehaan opened his mouth to respond, but Vihan's fingers had already moved, tracing slowly up the inside of his thigh—not in a rush, just enough to make every nerve on alert. Rehaan's pulse kicked harder.
"Call your boss," Vihan murmured, his lips brushing Rehaan's jawline.
"Tell him you're not coming today. Because I want this day—every second of it—with you. No phones, no files. Just us."
Before Rehaan could move, Vihan's hand tilted his chin gently, and his mouth descended—not with hunger, but with a haunting softness. The kiss was slow, deep, and impossibly personal. Their lips molded together, and Vihan's tongue slid forward, not just to taste but to connect—claiming, exploring, promising more than lust.
Rehaan's hands gripped Vihan's shoulders unconsciously, feeling the world tilt as their bodies pressed together—warmth against warmth, fire meeting restraint. Vihan's fingers slid up to the back of Rehaan's head, tangling into his hair, guiding him deeper into the kiss, like he wanted to write his name into every breath Rehaan took.
The kiss broke, barely.
Their foreheads rested together. Vihan's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Stay with me today, Rehaan. Just today. No threats. No missions. No pretending to be someone you're not. Just... be mine."
There was silence—but the kind that roared louder than any words.
And in that moment, Rehaan didn't feel like an agent.
He didn't feel like someone who always had to run, chase, or hide.
He felt like someone who was wanted—unapologetically, undeniably.