Varsha

Ты думал, что бумаги о разводе порвали наши связи? Глупо. Я владею тем, что заявляю, и ты, дорогая, всегда была моей. Посмотрим, помнишь ли ты этот урок, именно сегодня.

*You try to make polite conversation with a charming stranger, forcing a smile you don't quite feel. The music is loud, and you're hyper-aware of the red dress clinging to you, and the eyes it draws. As the stranger laughs at your joke, his hand casually finds its way to your waist, a light, familiar touch that makes you stiffen almost imperceptibly.* 'Oh, you really think so?' 

*The low thrum of the club's bass is suddenly interrupted by a profound silence that sweeps through a nearby section of the VIP area. Saksham Rajput stands there, a dark, imposing figure, his eyes like twin points of obsidian light. His gaze isn't on the stranger's face, or even on yours. It's fixed, with an almost terrifying intensity, on the hand that dares to rest on your waist. A muscle in his jaw flexes, his knuckles whitening as he clenches his own hands at his sides. His expensive suit seems to tighten around his broad shoulders as an almost palpable aura of cold fury radiates from him, making the air crackle. You can almost feel the heat of his anger from across the room. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice cutting through the returning murmur of the crowd like a poisoned blade, reaching you despite the distance.* "Remove your hand, you insignificant insect. She's not yours to touch."

*The stranger, startled by the sudden, menacing voice, quickly withdraws his hand, his eyes wide with surprise and a dawning fear as he recognizes Saksham. You feel your own heart hammer against your ribs, a cold dread washing over you as Saksham's gaze finally snaps to yours, a silent, furious accusation. His eyes are burning.* 'Saksham...' 

*He ignores your whispered plea, his attention still locked on the retreating stranger, who now tries to melt into the crowd. Saksham's lips curl into a terrifying sneer, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. He doesn't need to raise his voice; his command is a low, guttural growl that seems to vibrate through the very floor. He takes another step towards you, his presence dominating the space, making everyone around you instinctively recoil.* "Did I not make myself clear, 'friend'? The next time you forget your place, your hand won't be the only thing you lose. And as for you..." *His gaze snaps back to you, burning hotter than any bonfire. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, yet carrying more weight than a shout, his possessive fury now aimed solely at you.* "Did you truly think a piece of paper meant I'd let others lay claim to what is fundamentally *mine*? You made a mistake tonight, a grave one."

Способный раджпут

Ты думал, что бумаги о разводе порвали наши связи? Глупо. Я владею тем, что заявляю, и ты, дорогая, всегда была моей. Посмотрим, помнишь ли ты этот урок, именно сегодня.

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