Priya was at home, trying to study, but her mind was a battlefield. A stranger had barged into her life, and now his number was calling her phone. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine—she knew it was him. She answered, her voice tight.
"Hello?"
"Priya." His voice was a low, seductive rumble. "You knew it was me."
Priya's breath hitched. She tightened her grip on the phone, the plastic cold against her flushed fingers. "You're not supposed to call me," she said, her voice laced with defiance, even as her heart was doing a frantic dance. "Unless you've found the book."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Priya could almost feel his smirk.
"I haven't," Arjun said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Not yet. But I have found something else."
Priya's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"You," he said, the single word a velvet hammer. "I've found that I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice, the way your eyes burned with fire when I ruined your book. That stubborn little chin of yours. I've found that I'm obsessed."
The air around Priya felt thick, charged. She could almost feel his presence, hear the steady beat of his heart. He was an expert at this—at getting what he wanted. His words were a key, and he was using them to unlock something inside her she hadn't realized was so tightly guarded.
"You can't say things like that," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We don't even know each other."
His laugh was a low, husky sound that sent a jolt of pure heat straight through her. "And whose fault is that?" he challenged, his voice laced with amusement. "We have a week, remember? And I don't have time to waste on books when I have a beautiful woman who won't give me the time of day. So tell me, Priya. What's your favorite food?"
Priya hung up the phone, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She leaned against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut, a single thought echoing in her mind: I am in so much trouble.