Chapter 1: Sparks Ignite at RR College
The air at RR College buzzed with excitement during the annual feast, a grand event hosted by the prestigious Rajvansh and Rathore families. The sprawling campus, adorned with fairy lights and vibrant decorations, was a spectacle of wealth and tradition. Students whispered in awe as Manav Rajvansh, the enigmatic and devastatingly handsome CEO of India’s top company and a government freehand commando, stepped onto the stage as the guest of honor. His chiseled jaw, piercing dark eyes, and tailored black suit commanded attention, and every girl in the crowd swooned—except one.
Ruhi Rathore, a second-year student, stood at the edge of the performance area, her gaze cool and detached. No one knew she was an heir to the Rathore fortune; to the college, she was just a brilliant scholarship student with a sharp tongue and a reputation for cutting down any boy who dared to cross her. Her beauty was undeniable—long raven hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a fierce confidence that made her untouchable. She adjusted the crimson lehenga she wore for her upcoming dance performance, ignoring the murmurs around her.
Manav’s speech was powerful, his deep voice resonating through the crowd as he spoke of ambition and legacy. When he finished, the applause was deafening, but his eyes scanned the crowd, landing briefly on Ruhi. Their gazes locked for a fleeting second, a storm of unspoken history crackling between them, though they played the part of strangers perfectly.
Ruhi’s dance performance was mesmerizing, her movements fluid and commanding, drawing every eye—including Manav’s. As the music faded, she stepped off the stage, her breath slightly heavy, only to be confronted by Vikram, the college’s resident heartthrob. In front of the entire crowd, he dropped to one knee, a rose in hand. “Ruhi, you’re the queen of my heart. Be mine,” he declared dramatically.
The crowd gasped, but Ruhi froze, her usual fire dimmed by the public spectacle. Before she could snap back, a group of jealous girls sneered from the sidelines. “Look at this scholarship trash thinking she’s some princess. No class, no money, just a pretty face,” one of them mocked.
Manav’s blood boiled. In three long strides, he was at the center of the scene, his presence towering and dangerous. He grabbed Vikram by the collar, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Who the hell do you think you are, proposing to her like she’s some prize to be won?” Turning to the girls, he snapped, “And you—mocking her? Do you even know who you’re talking to?” He gestured to his bodyguards, who swiftly escorted the offenders away.
Then, his piercing gaze turned to Ruhi, who stood wide-eyed, a rare flicker of fear in her expression. “What is this nonsense? Proposals? Explain yourself,” he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Ruhi’s friends tried to intervene. “Sir, please, she’s scared. Let her go,” one pleaded, but Manav’s intensity didn’t waver. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think this is a game, Ruhi? Do you know what you’re playing with?”
Her chin lifted defiantly, though her voice trembled slightly. “It’s my business, Manav. Not yours.”
The crowd fell silent, shocked at her audacity. Manav’s jaw clenched, anger and something darker flashing in his eyes. Without another word, he gripped her wrist and pulled her away from the prying eyes, ignoring her protests. “You’re coming with me. Now.”
He didn’t stop until they were in the privacy of a luxurious hotel suite nearby, booked for his stay during the event. Inside, he released her, pacing like a caged tiger. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, Ruhi? Acting like you don’t know me, letting these idiots fawn over you?” His voice was a roar, raw with frustration.
Ruhi crossed her arms, her fear morphing into defiance. “I don’t owe you explanations, Manav. I’ve handled worse than Vikram without your help. So back off.”
His eyes darkened, a dangerous smirk curling his lips. “Back off? Oh, sweetheart, you’ve just lit a fire you can’t put out.” He closed the distance between them in an instant, backing her against the wall. His breath was hot against her ear as he murmured, “You think you’re untouchable, Ruhi? Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Before she could retort, he dragged her into the bathroom, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. He turned on the shower, water cascading over them as he pinned her against the wall. His gaze raked over her soaked lehenga clinging to her curves, and a low growl escaped his throat. “Damn it, Ruhi, you’re driving me insane.”
She struggled, her voice sharp despite the tremor. “Get off me, Manav. I’m not some toy for you to—” Her words were cut off as his lips crashed into hers, rough and demanding. The kiss was a battle of wills, her hands pushing against his chest even as her body betrayed her, responding to his intensity. He tore at the fabric of her pink blouse, exposing the lace of her inners, his mouth trailing down to suck at the soft skin above them. Her breath hitched, a mix of anger and unwanted desire.
“You’re mine, Ruhi. Always have been,” he growled against her skin, his hands gripping her hips possessively. The shower was turned off abruptly, and he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom. Her protests were drowned by the pounding of her own heart as he laid her on the bed, his white shirt discarded, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
She glared up at him, panting, her voice a mix of fury and something hotter. “You think you can just take what you want? I’m not yours to claim.”
Manav’s smirk was wicked as he leaned over her, his hand sliding up her thigh, feeling the heat of her through the wet fabric. “Oh, darling, you’re already dripping for me. Let’s stop pretending.”
The tension snapped like a taut wire, and what followed was a storm of raw, dangerous passion, their bodies colliding in a battle for dominance. Her defiance only fueled his hunger, and as the night deepened, the lines between anger and desire blurred into something explosive, something neither could deny.
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