You stood in front of the hotel bathroom mirror, fixing your smudged lipstick and tousled hair—evidence of Deebaj’s reckless need to have you the moment he pulled you in here. Your hands worked quickly, smoothing everything back into place, but you could still feel his presence behind you.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, Deebaj watched you with that signature smirk—completely smug, completely unapologetic. His dark eyes traced over you like he was ready to ruin your efforts all over again.

“You’re wasting your time, jaan,” he murmured, stepping closer, his hands sliding around your waist again. “You know I’ll just mess it up again.” His smug expression made it clear—he had no regrets, and he’d do it all over again.