The Deal
The city never slept—but neither did men like Aarav Malhotra.
From the 47th floor of his glass tower, he watched the skyline like it belonged to him. And in many ways, it did. Every shining building, every flashing light, every whispered deal in dark corners—his influence ran through it all.
Power wasn’t just something he had.
It was something he was.
“Sir, the meeting is ready.”
Aarav didn’t turn. His sharp jaw tightened slightly as he adjusted his cufflinks—platinum, custom-made. Everything about him screamed control. Precision. Wealth.
“Let them wait,” he said calmly.
Because powerful men were never on time.
They made time wait.
—
Across the city, in a completely different world, Meera Sharma was running.
Not from someone—but from time.
“Damn it…” she muttered under her breath, clutching her file as she rushed into the towering Malhotra Enterprises building. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, drawing annoyed glances.
She didn’t belong here.
Not with her simple kurta, not with her tired eyes, and definitely not with the storm of problems waiting for her outside.
But she had no choice.
This meeting… this deal… was her last chance.
“Excuse me,” she said, slightly breathless at the reception. “I have a 10 AM appointment.”
The receptionist barely looked at her. “Name?”
“Meera Sharma.”
A pause. A quick scan.
Then suddenly—respect.
“Mr. Malhotra is expecting you.”
Meera frowned. Expecting her?
That didn’t make sense.
—
When the doors of the conference room opened, the air changed.
Heavy. Intimidating.
And at the center of it all—him.
Aarav Malhotra.
He didn’t stand. Didn’t smile. Didn’t even greet her.
He just looked at her.
And at that one glance, Meera felt like she had been… evaluated.
Measured.
And somehow… already judged.
“Sit,” he said, his voice low, commanding.
Not a request.
An order.
Meera straightened her shoulders and sat across from him, refusing to let the intimidation show.
“I believe you needed funding,” Aarav said, flipping through her file like it was just another piece of paper in his empire.
“I don’t need charity,” Meera replied firmly. “I need an investment.”
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
Bold. She was bold.
“I don’t invest in risks,” he said.
“And I don’t fail,” she shot back.
Silence.
Thick. Electric.
Dangerous.
Aarav leaned back, studying her like a puzzle he suddenly wanted to solve.
“Everything has a price, Ms. Sharma,” he said slowly. “The question is… what are you willing to pay?”
Meera’s grip tightened on the edge of the table.
“I’m not for sale.”
A small smirk appeared on his lips.
“Everyone is.”
And in that moment—without realizing it—
She had just stepped into a game where
power ruled…
money decided…
and hearts were the most expensive thing to lose.
—
To be continued…
