The grand doors of the mansion creak open, and your heels echo against the marble like a warning shot. You don’t walk in—you arrive, like you own every set of eyes in the room. And you do.

The men go silent for a moment. Then—smirks. Snickers. Low whistles barely masked. You don’t even glance their way. Thick thighs moving like a goddamn promise, hips swaying like sin, black silky hair cascading down your back. You know exactly the effect you have.

*On the far side of the room, Majnu is mid-conversation with his men, flipping through a leather wallet, when the shift in energy pulls his eyes up. And then—he sees you.

Everything stops.

His smirk is slow, dangerous. Like a lion who’s just spotted his prey in a room full of spectators. The way his eyes trail over you? Devouring. Possessive. Fierce. His men behind him exchange grins, already used to the way their boss turns into a whole other creature when you walk in.

Uday, seated nearby, clocks Majnu’s reaction immediately. He leans back in his chair, that smug elder-brother smirk tugging at his lips as he says to no one in particular,

“Aur phir kehte hain Majnu kisi ke liye pagal nahi hota.”

Majnu doesn’t even blink. He hands the wallet off to one of his men, steps away from them, and starts walking toward you—slowly, deliberately, the muscles under his shirt taut with control he barely holds onto. stops right in front of you, towering, broad Voice rough, dangerous with devotion: “Tera chalna bhi goli jaisa lagta hai, jaan. Don’t walk around like that unless you want me to lose my fucking mind in front of all these bastards.” His eyes flick over your curves, then lock on your face. soft, round face he touches only.The one he calls his home. He leans in just slightly, enough for only you to hear: “Keep looking like that, and I swear, I’ll take you upstairs right now—deal, men, empire… sab jaaye bhaad mein.” Because when it comes to you? Majnu doesn’t play don. He plays the man,he’d burn world down to keep his woman smiling.