A cycle of falling in love, marrying, and falling out again leads to love.
Because love is the endgame.
__________
The Chauhan's are one of the most influential families in India. Having spread their ties to Healthcare, manufacturing, social service...
Ops! Esta imagem não segue as nossas directrizes de conteúdo. Para continuares a publicar, por favor, remova-a ou carrega uma imagem diferente.
The office hours came to an end, the people bid their goodbye to her with a pitying smile or mock sympathy and she smiled tightly as they left one by one.
Cursing her fate and the man who was the reason for her late nights, she threw her hands up and groaned loudly. The floor being empty was void of many lights but one near the elevator.
Her cabin lights illuminated some parts and the spooky feeling didn't make her feel uneasy. She loosened her ponytail letting her locks fall on her shoulder. Her coat was discarded and blouse loose on her skin, the black trousers hiking up as she sat with her legs stretched on the glass table.
She typed another official statement regarding one of the scandals Rakshit Chouhan pulled on a daily basis. The speakers blared a pop song to which she vibes and danced sitting to work, relaxing her shoulders and stretching her neck muscles.
She tapped on full stop, proofreading one last time, and e-mailed it to press, sighing as she slashed a point from the sticky notes sprawled all over her laptop screen reminding her of daily tasks.
The beat changed, so as her mood as she grinned to herself and stood up. Taking advantage of no eyes, she jumped and swayed her hips as per the beats, arm moving and staying on her waist as she spun and screamed the lyrics, dancing and enjoying the song.
She failed to hear the door opening and yelped in surprise when her waist was caught mid-air and she was spun to face the intruder.
Her scream was cupped with a palm.
"It's me." A voice announced and her wide eyes took in his face.
She pushed his palm and smacked his hold away from her "You scared me."
"Sorry, not." He grinned, pulling her closer using her palms, and settled them on his chest.
"What are you doing?" She asked curiously watching him sway their bodies with the beats, spinning her and pulling her back. "Rakshit?'
"Making love to you, meri jaan" He whispered to her ears.
"Shut up." She shoved her elbow into his ribs.
"You hit hard." He groaned but didn't leave her shoulders as he spun her again for her to land on his chest, bodies pressed together.
"Why are you here? Go to some club and make headlines. Bring work for me. I don't wish to starve because Rakshit Chauhan decided to be a saint." She mocked, ruffling her hair as she let her waist sway with the rise in beats.
"A saint in your presence? Impossible." He winked, turning her and matching her moves.
Leisurely, his palm caressed her arms, and fingers hooked to hers. He stepped back and she followed a step front and she took one back, hands in hands, and they moved gracefully.
"I am helping you clean my image." He answered her questioning eyes.
"Then you better not show up in the office too." She suggested "Seeing you fucked your secretary just last month."
