The delivery girl's identity was revealed in a jarring instant. He had been about to chastise her for the collision when his eyes, and his very soul, were captured. It was her. The girl who had inhabited his mind for the past two days, an uninvited guest whose presence had become a welcome obsession. Here, in this mundane hallway, his frantic search had ended. He had found the one who had stolen his thoughts, ignited a fire in his heart, and made him forget everything else. She was his peace, and he had found her.

He was about to speak, to reach out, to finally close the distance between them, but she moved with the panicked speed of a gazelle. Snatching her helmet, she vanished around a corner in a blur of movement. He was frozen for a moment, then spurred to action, intent on following her. But his path was blocked. The manager, a fussy old man, appeared before him, his voice a drone of apologies. "Forgive me, Mr. Desai, but our boss, Mr. Jakirwar, is away," the manager said, a nervous tic in his eye. "He's inspecting another branch. However, Mr. Sharma is in his office."

Aryan nodded, his impatience thinly veiled. He could barely focus on the man's words. All he could think of was her. The crash. What if she was hurt? A jolt of irrational fear shot through him. "I'm going to go crazy," he muttered under his breath.

"Sir, we should go meet with Mr. Sharma," his assistant, Rahul, reminded him softly.

Aryan stood for a moment longer, staring down the empty corridor she had disappeared down, a silent prayer forming in his mind. He slowly nodded, his heart still thrumming with the encounter, and followed Rahul towards Mr. Sharma's office.

Inside the office suite, a nervous employee hurried ahead of them, opening the door to Mr. Sharma's cabin. He announced their arrival, but Aryan, driven by a new kind of urgency, brushed past him and entered the room. The employee quickly backed out, but as Aryan's eyes swept the room, he saw her again. There she was, the delivery girl, looking as startled and nervous as she had moments ago. She shot him a wide-eyed glance before rushing out of the room, her flight a clear attempt to avoid him.

The meeting with Mr. Sharma proceeded, but for Aryan, it was a blur. He spoke of business, of the betrayer, of the fund issues, but his mind was a battlefield. Every moment, his thoughts drifted to her, to the way she had looked at him before fleeing. He felt a pang of guilt, a strange sense of having committed a sin just by being present, a feeling he had never experienced before. Why did his presence make her so nervous? He desperately wanted to understand, to reassure her, to erase the fear in her eyes. But he knew nothing about her. Could Mr. Sharma provide a clue? Was there a connection between them?

As the meeting concluded, a sudden, powerful impulse took hold. He had to know her name. He had to know something. "Mr. Sharma," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "May I ask you something personal?"

The question visibly unnerved the man, who straightened in his chair. "Yes, Mr. Desai?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

After a few tense seconds of silence, Aryan spoke. "Who was that girl?"

The question hung in the air, causing Mr. Sharma to hesitate as if he had been asked something forbidden. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before replying, "Her name is Sriya Jakirwar. She is the daughter of Mr. Rajiv Jakirwar, the owner of Jakirwar Enterprise."

Aryan left the office, his mind reeling. The daughter of a top businessman? It defied logic. Why would a woman of such means be working as a food delivery person? He couldn't shake the strange contradiction.

Back in his car, he turned to Rahul, a new resolve hardening his voice. "Find out everything you can about her. I want a full report by this evening."

Rahul's perspective

For the past two days, Sir had been acting... strange. He was distracted, unfocused on his work, and I worried something serious was wrong. Now I know the truth. It wasn't a business crisis, but a girl—the girl he had been thinking about for days. I think I'm about to get a lady boss. Finally, Sir has found someone who can hold his interest.

Author's perspective

As evening settled, Rahul entered Aryan's office and placed a file on his desk. "Sir, I have the details you requested," he said. With a dismissive nod, Aryan indicated for him to leave.

Alone, Aryan opened the file. There was a picture of her, and below it, the name "Sriya Jakirwar" in bold letters. He read on, absorbing every detail. She was a fine arts student at Udaipur Art University, a top student, but on scholarship. The daughter of a wealthy man, yet she was studying on a scholarship? It made no sense. He continued reading, his interest deepening. She worked as a waitress and, bafflingly, as a food delivery person. She was a creative, hard-working person who was about to finish her studies and was looking for an internship.

He closed the file, his mind consumed by her mystery. Why did the daughter of one of the city's richest men live a life so separate from her family's wealth? He was drawn to her, unable to stop thinking about her. He cursed his own preoccupation, his thoughts broken only by the shrill ring of his phone. It was his childhood friend, Kartik Malhotra, a film and music mogul from Mumbai.

"What the hell, dude, where are you?" Kartik's voice boomed. "I told you to pick me up at five, but it's six! You're not even here. Come fast, or I'll kill you, you bastard!"

He had forgotten. Cursing himself, Aryan ordered his driver to speed to the airport. He arrived and scanned the crowd for Kartik, but couldn't find him. A moment later, he felt a presence behind him. Kartik, the moron, was there, trying to jump on his back. Aryan sidestepped, and Kartik crashed to the ground with a grunt.

"What the fuck?" Kartik gritted his teeth. "Why did you step aside?"

Aryan gave him a cool, unimpressed look, then got back into his car. "Get in," he said, "or I'm leaving you here."

"Fucking bastard," Kartik muttered under his breath, clambering into the car. "Cold ice doesn't care about anyone."

Aryan stared out of the tinted window, not seeing the bustling city lights but rather the ghost of a face he had glimpsed in a photograph. Kartik's presence beside him was an infuriating distraction, an unwelcome jolt back to the present. He’d barely settled into the plush leather seat before Kartik's voice, saccharine and utterly fake, cut through the quiet of the car.

"What happened? Are you not happy with my arrival, babe?" he purred, the mockery thick enough to choke on. The pet name was a deliberate provocation, a jab at Aryan’s hardened exterior.

Aryan gritted his teeth, his knuckles white against the car door. "Whom do I ask, huh?" Kartik continued, his tone shifting. "This cold stone doesn't show his emotions, but I know, darling, you love me… But I miss you so much."

The words were an assault, a parody of genuine affection. Aryan felt a low growl rumble in his chest, a sound that held all the suppressed rage of a man forced to listen to a fool.

"Can you just shut up for a while and stop behaving like a gay, or else I'll shoot you and throw your body in the dump yard," Aryan snarled, his voice a low, lethal promise. He pulled the sleek, cold weight of his gun from his pocket, the familiar feel of it a grounding anchor in the chaos of his emotions.

Kartik, however, was unfazed. He raised his hands in mock surrender, a theatrical pout on his lips. "What the hell, bro? Is this how you'll welcome me?" he whined playfully, completely ignoring the firearm pointed in his direction.

But his stupidity didn't stop there. He leaned closer, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "Tell me, darling, you miss me a lot, wifeee."

That was the last straw. Aryan pulled the trigger, the sharp click of the empty chamber echoing in the confined space. Kartik didn't flinch. He simply smiled, his gaze dropping to the file Aryan had been holding just moments before. The file, the one with Sriya's information.

Aryan moved, but Kartik was faster. He snatched the file, his eyes scanning the first few lines. Aryan lunged, yanking the file back and shoving it into his suitcase, snapping the lock shut with a definitive click. But it was too late. Kartik had seen her name.

A slow, maddening smirk spread across Kartik's face as he wiggled his eyebrows. "Who was that girl?" he asked, feigning deep thought. "Oh, let me guess. She caught your interest, right?"

Aryan shook his head slightly, a futile denial. But Kartik erupted in a burst of childish glee. "OMG, my babe likes someone! Tell me, bro, when are you going to marry her?"

"Don't think too much. There is nothing like that," Aryan replied, his voice flat, a desperate attempt to end the topic. But Kartik was more interested than ever.

"Hey, driver!" he bellowed. "Drive to the nearby club! Let's celebrate! My babe got a girl for himself!" His cheering was like a child who had just received his favorite candy.

Aryan's Pov

The club was a cacophony of noise and light, a stark contrast to the quiet turmoil of my mind. Yet here I was, sitting in a private corner that Kartik had reserved, the thumping bass doing little to drown out the hammering of my own heart. Kartik sat opposite me, his playful demeanor gone, replaced by a gaze that was far too perceptive.

"Now tell me everything you know about her," he said, his voice dropping to a low, serious register. "Don't try to hide anything. No need to pretend in front of me, okay?"

The facade was gone. This was the real Kartik, the confidant who had seen me through my darkest days. For the first time since my parents' death, I felt the need to confide in someone, to unburden the weight that had settled in my chest.

"Her name is Sriya Jakirwar, the daughter of Rajiv Jakirwar," I began, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I told him everything I knew about her, every detail I'd managed to acquire. But as I spoke, the words veered away from cold facts and into the chaotic, unfamiliar territory of my feelings.

"I don't know, Kartik, but I feel like I want her close to me," I admitted, the confession a raw, fragile thing. "The first time I looked at her, I forgot about everything." A strange, disorienting peace had settled over me, eclipsing the years of vengeful fury. "My heart was beating fast. I even forgot about my parents' death and revenge. She was the only one on whom I was focused, for the first time."

I described the unsettling, beautiful stillness she brought to my ravaged soul. "My heart felt peace after my parents' death. I can't able to forget her, and the thing is, I've only seen her two times, and today I got to know her name and her other information."

I spoke every thought, every sensation, every confused and overwhelming feeling. I became quiet for a few seconds, unsure of what else to say, but I knew he wouldn't judge me. Kartik had always been there, a steady rock in the turbulent sea of my life.

He broke the silence, a slow grin spreading across his face. "So, Mr. Aryan Desai, the top businessman and a secret mafia lord, fell in love with a girl at first sight."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell are you saying? When did I tell you I fell in love with her?" I asked, his words a jarring contrast to the denial I was clinging to.

"But you said you feel your heart beating very fast, like bullets, and you feel something different, like peaceful, like you want her to be close to you," he countered, his grin broadening. "That shows, boy, you fell in love with her. Accept it, or else it will not be good."

A stubborn refusal warred with the tentative truth blooming in my chest. "I nodded my head in denial."

"Okay, if you don't want to accept it, it's okay," Kartik said with a shrug, but the mischief was back in his eyes. "But wait... can I try on her? She's beautiful."

A surge of volcanic anger erupted within me. The mere thought of anyone else, especially Kartik, near her was anathema. The peaceful feeling vanished, replaced by a possessive rage so fierce it was intoxicating. "Don't you dare," I hissed, my voice a low, dangerous rumble. "If you even look at her side, I will pluck out your both eyes."

Kartik's smirk was a mirror of my own dark intensity. "Okay, my bad... sorry for that. But tell me, if you don't love her, then why are you being so angry?"

I had no reply. His words, simple and direct, had shattered my carefully constructed denial. He was right. If I didn't feel anything, why did the thought of her with someone else ignite such a consuming fury? The truth, raw and overwhelming, hit me with the force of a tidal wave.

I rose, the decision made, the path forward suddenly clear. "I'm going home. If you wanna come, then let's go, or else live in any hotel," I said, my voice resolute. I walked away without looking back, a new purpose burning in my gut. I wanted her. I needed her to be mine.

No one can take her away from me. If anyone tries to be close to her, I will kill that person, a cold, certain thought promised.

From behind me, Kartik's voice followed, full of teasing affection. "Hey, my darling, wait for me! I know you'll be married soon, but don't leave your first love!"

His shouts, full of laughter, made the club patrons stare, their gazes a mix of bewilderment and amusement. But I didn't care. I walked on, a man possessed, a secret mafia lord with a newly discovered, and dangerously possessive, heart.

So guys ☺️

Someone falling in love 😘 ❤️

So tell me if you like this story or not .

I will post frequently new chapters

So bye bye 👋🏻 👋🏻

Your lovely author 😍 🥰