Chapter 7

Aria's POV 

Aria entered the grand ballroom with her head held high, the familiar murmur of voices and clinking glasses filling the air. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the sea of industry leaders, business tycoons, and socialites who had gathered for the evening.

This was the first year she was attending as the CEO of Meraki Co., not as her father's daughter. No familiar shadow to stand behind, no gentle nudges from him when introductions were made. This time, she was here on her own merit, and if she felt the weight of that, she refused to show it.

She exhaled slowly, adjusting the delicate strap of her dress—a deep, elegant yellow that accentuated her curves. It was bolder than what she usually wore to events like this, but tonight wasn't just any night. If she was going to make an impression, she would do it her way.

The room responded accordingly. Heads turned, conversations momentarily stalled. Aria met their gazes with effortless charm, nodding in polite acknowledgment as she walked deeper into the crowd. She greeted a few familiar faces, slipping easily into small talk about market trends, upcoming projects, and industry gossip.

And then—she felt it.

A slow, searing burn against her back.

The kind that made the hairs on her arms rise, that sent an inexplicable heat curling in her stomach.

She didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Kabir.

She could feel him watching her, like a force just beyond her line of sight, pressing in, deliberate and unrelenting.

Aria resisted the urge to shift, to check, to confirm what she already knew. Instead, she kept her focus on the conversation at hand, smiling at an anecdote someone was sharing, nodding at the right moments. But she wasn't really listening.

Damn him.

It had been a week. A full week of nothing but professional exchanges between Aisha and Paul. A week of reviewing proposals, refining ideas, perfecting their pitch for Veda Islands. Not a single direct interaction between them.

And yet, the moment she stepped into the same space as him, it was like a wire had been pulled taut between them.

A champagne flute appeared in front of her.

"Still the same, aren't you?"

The voice was warm, familiar.

She turned, and a surprised smile broke across her face. "Aarav?"

Aarav Mehta grinned, his boyish charm intact despite the years apart. He had filled out—his frame broader, his posture more self-assured—but his eyes still held the same mischief she remembered.

"You still hold a room like you own it," he teased, handing her the glass.

Aria laughed, shaking her head. "And you still show up like you were never gone."

"Was I really?" Aarav's gaze softened. "Bangalore was always home. Just needed a few years of pretending otherwise."

She clinked her glass against his. "And now?"

"Now, I'm back. For good."

Aarav Mehta had been a constant in her childhood—her closest friend, the one who had known her before the weight of expectations had settled on her shoulders. They had spent summers racing bicycles through the streets, sneaking out to late-night food joints, and daring each other into trouble.

He had left for the US for his MBA, and now he was back, taking over his father's company.

It was easy to fall back into the rhythm with him, the teasing, the shared memories, the effortless way he made her laugh.

And for a moment, she forgot about the heat of another gaze.

Until she didn't.

The energy in the room shifted.

A presence entered—not loud, not forceful, but undeniable.

And she knew.

Even before she turned, she knew.

Kabir.

She didn't react immediately. Instead, she took another sip of her champagne, focused on Aarav's words. But her skin prickled, her senses sharpening in that way they only did when he was near.

Slowly, she let her gaze drift.

And there he was.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, the crisp lines emphasizing his broad frame, he was the kind of man who didn't need an introduction. Power clung to him effortlessly, the kind that made people pause.

But it wasn't just his presence—it was the details.

The slight salt and pepper at his temples, more pepper than salt, just enough to hint at experience without diminishing his intensity. The well-trimmed beard that framed his sharp jaw. The quiet, simmering confidence in his stride.

Their eyes met, and time stilled for just a second.

His gaze moved over her, slow, deliberate. Assessing. Admiring.

Aria held her ground, tilting her chin ever so slightly. She refused to be the first to look away.

Kabir's lips quirked, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. As if he could see right through her.

Damn him.

Aarav's voice pulled her back. "You alright?"

She blinked, turning to him. "Of course."

But the warmth that had settled between them moments ago had shifted. Aarav wasn't stupid—he had noticed something. He didn't ask, but his gaze flickered briefly toward Kabir before returning to her, thoughtful.

Aria took a slow breath, centering herself.

This was nothing.

Nothing at all.

And yet, as the night went on, she felt the weight of his presence, the way her body reacted involuntarily every time she knew he was close.

And she hated that.

Because no matter how much she ignored it, Kabir was still there, still watching, still waiting.

And worse?

She wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.