He moved his hand towards Aisha, and said Give me your hand.......remember little bird never leave my hand there and be confident.

After that,

The car was sleek and silent, its walls polished metal, and in its reflection, she saw the chilling tableau.

Siddharth Raichand, a figure of dark, implacable power, and herself, a terrified woman draped in silk and cold diamonds, her hand trapped beneath his.

​The pressure of his gloved hand on hers was a constant, intimate reminder of her captivity.

She could feel the low, steady vibration of his presence, and the frantic, wild pulse of her own heart beneath the Chandra-Kiran necklace.

​He was aware of every beat.

​"Breathe, Aisha," he murmured, his voice too quiet for the metallic space, yet impossibly loud to her. "You are tense.

" Some of them will smell your anxiety."
​"Smell?" she whispered, the word tasting strange on her tongue.

​He turned his head slightly, his blue eyes catching the light and flickering with an unsettling brilliance.

"A metaphor, little bird. But a relevant one. The elite are like predators, they sense weakness and fear. Tonight, you project only my strength. YOU PROJECT MY HUNGER.

The Car stopped infront of the venue gates HOTEL RICHARDS, A big and luxurious resort.

Aisha and Siddharth walked towards the elevator. All eyes on them.....yes it has to be because Mr. Siddharth Raichand was seen with the women.

The elevator ride down was an exercise in controlled agony for Aisha.

​The elevator stopped with an almost imperceptible glide. The doors opened onto a massive, richly carpeted foyer, already crowded with the city's wealthiest and most powerful. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, old money, and ruthless ambition.

​As they stepped out, the noise level dropped noticeably.

A hundred eyes fixed on them-or rather, on him. And then, on the woman at his side.

​Siddharth Raichand was not just a guest, he was the center of gravity.

​He began to move through the crowd, a fluid, graceful force, pulling Aisha along. His hand remained firmly over hers, a public declaration of ownership.

She felt the eyes rake over her, dissecting her gown, judging the diamonds, and speculating on her relationship to the city's enigma.

​Aisha forced herself to mimic his stillness, her spine straight, her expression a careful mask of cool neutrality.

She didn't smile. She didn't look at anyone. She looked only at the immaculate black silk of his arm.

​They stopped to speak with a cluster of men in bespoke suits. Siddharth was a master of detached, potent charm, speaking in low, decisive tones.

​"Mr. Raichand, a pleasure. And who is this stunning addition?" asked an older man with a thin mustache and shrewd eyes.

​Siddharth's grip on Aisha's hand tightened, a silent warning. He didn't introduce her by name.

​"She is my associate," Siddharth replied smoothly, his eyes flashing with a cold amusement. "A sharp mind, excellent insight. She travels with me now."

​The older man smiled, a knowing, predatory smirk. "Indeed. A man of your taste always keeps the best things close."

​Aisha bristled. She wanted to snatch her hand away, to tell this oily man exactly what she thought of him and Raichand.

But the cold pressure on her hand intensified, and she remembered the image of Diya in a pristine white hospital bed. Don't fight. Not here.

​Siddharth leaned his head down toward the older man, and his voice dropped to a sound that was suddenly too soft, too cold for the setting.

​"She is more than a thing, Mr. Vohra. She is essential. And to touch what is essential to me is to invite ruin."

​The simple, direct threat hung in the air. The other men shifted uncomfortably. Siddharth had made his point, Aisha was his property, and she was protected by his malice.

​He moved them away, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. "See how easy it is, little bird? You don't have to defend yourself. I do it for you."

After few more meetings with VIP'S.

​They reached a secluded balcony overlooking the city lights ...She saw the view from outside....but being a prisoner of her captor.

She looked towards the moon and thought "Why Mumma?" Why you left me alone, I also feel like crying, showing tantrums. But see Mumma I'm here being the prisoner....of life as well as of him.

​Siddharth released her hand, and Aisha immediately stepped back, rubbing the faint indentations his fingers had left on her skin.

The exposed skin felt startlingly warm against the sudden absence of his cold touch.

​He walked to the edge of the railing and turned, his dark figure silhouetted against the night. He looked more ancient, more dominant than he ever had in his own rooms.

​"You're performing admirably," he observed, his voice tinged with approval. "You are learning to wear the golden shroud."

​"I am learning that you are worse than a tyrant," Aisha said, her voice shaking slightly but holding firm.

And please for God sake stop this nonsense Mr.Raichand. "You pretend to be good, but you're actually cruel."

​He smiled faintly. "Cruel? Or necessary control? You define it, I own it."
And, Let me tell you my bird if u say cruel that is like a crown to me
And I am the king of cruelty.

​He began to walk towards her, slowly, deliberately closing the distance. The energy between them grew thick and volatile. He said making his dark voice, deeper,
And when u will watch my cruelty Little Bird. YOU'LL CRY, YOU'LL RUN , YOU FEEL DISGUST OF ME , YOU'LL FEAR ME AND MORE ABOVE YOU'LL HATE ME.....YES LITTLE BIRD YOU'LL HATE ME ...YOU'LL HATE ME VERY MUCH.

You know what little bird. He said
​"I watched you tonight, Jaana. I felt your pulse jump every time a man held your gaze for too long," he said, his eyes glittering. "Do you know what my instinct was? To break their gaze… permanently. Because no one looks at what’s mine.” To take out their Eyeballs and play with And last but not the least to kill them again. And again. And again that they don't dared to look that you,

​He stopped inches away, his cold proximity pressing into her like a physical weight. His black glove moved to trace the line of the Chandra-Kiran on her collarbone.

​"But I control that instinct, for now. Because the only look I truly want is yours."
​He leaned in, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her mouth, his breath-which she could never detect-stirring the loose strands of her hair.

His gloved hand slid from her throat down to the small of her back, pressing her firmly, possessively against his tuxedoed front.

​"I am gentle with you, Little Bird. I must be," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly sound that seemed to come from her own ribcage. "I told you I wouldn't bite without an invitation. But the air around you is intoxicating.

You make me feel a tremor of need that I haven't known in centuries. Every angry breath you take, every frantic beat of your heart... I can feel the very life in you, Little Bird. It is the purest thing in this wretched city, and it is reserved for me."

​She looked up, utterly trapped by the intensity of his blue eyes, her breath catching in her throat.

Her heart was a frantic, desperate bird fluttering beneath his hand. He wasn't just close,he was consuming the very space around her.

​He didn't kiss her. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look into her soul, his face a mask of restrained, dark hunger.

​His thumb, still gloved, came up to brush the warm skin just beneath her ear, a spot where her pulse hammered wildly.
​"That is a kind of power you possess, isn't it? The power to tempt your captor. Know that when I finally take what I desire, it will be with this same gentleness. You are mine. You are safe. And one day soon, Little Bird, you will stop fighting and realize that the terror you feel is inseparable from the passion I will demand."

​He held her there for another long, agonizing moment, letting the world witness their close, intimate exchange.
Then, with a satisfied curl of his lip, he released her and offered his arm again.

The warmth where his thumb had rested felt like a brand on her skin.
​"The night is young, Little bird" he said, his tone switching back to the measured calm of the city's ruler. "Let's go ensure a few more people understand the gravity of your situation."

Her chest rose and fell too fast, her pulse still racing where his thumb had lingered.

For a long moment, she just stared at him,at the calm, regal monster cloaked in silk and sin ,and then, quietly, she said,

Her voice trembled, but not from fear - from the effort it took not to look away.

"You think you own me?" "You think I'm yours?" she went on, her words sharper now. "You can chain my body, you can brand my skin, but you will never own my will. You'll never touch that part of me ,no matter how many centuries you've learned to play."

She came forward to match his gaze and said in her trembled voice like she was going to broke down.

"You say I'll stop fighting one day... but maybe, Mr.Raichand ,it'll be you who finally bleeds."

To be continued

Boring Tha kya ...

Fav scene

Fav dialogues