Chapter 8

Kabir's POV

Kabir was used to being the center of attention.

The moment he stepped into the grand ballroom of the Socialite Meet, heads turned. Conversations stalled for a fraction of a second before seamlessly resuming. People had a way of noticing him—whether for business, intrigue, or sheer curiosity. He was used to it.

But for the first time in a long time, he wasn't paying attention to any of it.

Because the second he entered, his eyes found her.

Aria Vijay.

She was dressed in a striking yellow gown, a color so bold it should have clashed with her sharp presence, but instead, it did the exact opposite. It softened her just enough, making her seem… untouchable. The fabric hugged her in all the right places, the delicate sheen catching the light as she moved through the crowd with an effortless grace.

And then she laughed.

Not the measured, calculated kind he'd heard in meetings, but a real, unguarded laugh.

Kabir's jaw tensed.

His grip around the glass of whiskey handed to him by a passing waiter tightened as he followed her gaze, his irritation mounting when he spotted who had drawn out that reaction from her.

Some kid.

No. Not a kid. Aarav Mehta.

Kabir recognized him now. Mehta Industries, an empire built by his father, now being handed over to the next generation. Aarav had been in the US for years, barely a blip on the radar.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was standing too damn close to Aria.

She was relaxed, her posture open, the slight tilt of her head as she spoke to him exuding a familiarity Kabir hadn't seen from her before. Not with him.

His irritation spiked.

"You're scowling," a voice murmured beside him.

Kabir barely spared a glance.

Sanya Malhotra.

She was dressed to turn heads, her signature smirk firmly in place as she looped an arm through his. The familiarity of the gesture would have been irritating if he had the energy to care.

"I didn't realize I needed to be smiling," he responded dryly, sipping his drink.

Sanya hummed, leaning in slightly. "You usually do when you see me."

He didn't.

But he let her think so. It was easier that way.

She followed his gaze, eyes landing on Aria. "She cleans up well."

Kabir exhaled sharply. He didn't need the observation.

"She's always looked like that," he said flatly.

Sanya chuckled. "You say that like you've noticed before."

He had.

And that was the problem.

His eyes flickered back to Aria just as she turned slightly, her fingers brushing against Aarav's forearm as she spoke. The familiarity between them was evident, easy in a way that made something ugly coil in Kabir's chest.

It shouldn't have bothered him.

But it did.

"She's close to Aarav," Sanya continued, oblivious to his growing frustration. "They practically grew up together. He used to follow her around like a puppy."

The words did little to settle him.

"Did he?" Kabir muttered.

"Mhm." Sanya turned to him with a teasing smile. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were interested."

Kabir finally met her gaze, expression cool. "Good thing you know better."

Sanya laughed, clearly amused, but he wasn't paying attention anymore.

Because at that moment, Aria's posture shifted.

Her back straightened, her shoulders tensed—just slightly, just enough for him to notice. And then, as if she could feel his stare burning through her, she turned.

Their gazes locked.

For a second, the room felt smaller. The people, the noise, the flashing cameras—it all faded into irrelevance.

Then, just as quickly, her expression hardened.

Her eyes flickered to Sanya's hand on his arm, and a look of pure irritation crossed her face. It was brief, gone in an instant, but he saw it.

And he liked it.

Sanya, blissfully unaware, sighed. "Well, I should go make my rounds. Try not to stand here looking like you want to commit murder."

Kabir barely heard her.

His focus was on Aria.

The way she turned away, brushing off whatever moment had passed between them. The way she smiled at Aarav again—pointedly, deliberately.

Kabir rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly.

He was supposed to be here for business. To network, to charm, to play the part.

But the only thing on his mind was her.

His fingers drummed against his whiskey glass as he watched Aria engage with people like she was made for this world. Polished, intelligent, sharp.

And yet, there was something distinctly untamed about her.

Something that pulled him in and pissed him off at the same time.

A waiter passed, offering more drinks. Kabir waved him off, knowing another sip wouldn't do anything to settle the restless energy in his veins.

Aria had no right to be this much of a distraction.

He was too used to control—over himself, over situations, over people. But she was the one person who slipped through that grip, and she did it without even trying.

"Mr. Oberoi," a voice purred.

Kabir turned slightly, forcing a polite expression as another woman—someone from the luxury real estate sector—stepped into his space. She was saying something, but he wasn't really listening. He was too aware of the way Aria hadn't looked in his direction since that brief moment of irritation.

His fingers flexed around his glass.

"Excuse me," he murmured, cutting the conversation short as he moved through the crowd, toward the bar.

He needed space.

Needed to breathe.

Instead, all he got was a better view of Aria as she tipped her head back in laughter at something Aarav said.

Something sharp twisted in his gut.

Maybe it was annoyance.

Maybe it was something worse.

And Kabir Oberoi did not like things he couldn't control.