The woman who had mocked Aisha earlier, leaned in close to a young male servant. A thick wad of cash exchanged hands under the cover of shadows.
"Listen carefully," she whispered, her tone dripping with malice. "Slip this into her drink. Make sure she finishes it. Once it takes effect, make her uncomfortable, flustered. Then, offer to take her somewhere private to rest. Play the gentleman....lead her away. And make it look... improper and scandalous."
The servant hesitated briefly, glancing at the money in his palm. "And if she resists?"
She chuckled darkly. "She won't. Not after the drug takes hold. Just make sure everyone sees her at her weakest. She's so high and mighty....let's see how she handles being exposed for what she truly is. A desperate woman who can't even control herself before the night ends."
The servant hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Money spoke louder than morals, his conscience buried beneath greed. "Consider it done."
Aisha, unaware of the danger lurking in the very place she stood, was conversing with a few influential guests when the servant approached. A silver tray balanced delicately on his hand carried a single glass of champagne, glistening under the dazzling chandeliers.
"Ma'am," he said, his voice smooth and polite, "a special blend from the host, just for you."
Aisha barely glanced at him before accepting the drink. The night had been long, and the warmth of celebration surrounded her. She took a delicate sip, the effervescent liquid dancing on her tongue. The taste was slightly different....richer, heavier....but she didn't dwell on it.
Minutes passed.
Then, a strange heat unfurled in her chest, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Her breath hitched, and she frowned slightly, trying to steady herself. Her skin tingled with an unfamiliar intensity, an unbearable heat pooling low in her stomach.
She reached for the back of her neck, attempting to cool herself down, but the room suddenly felt too warm, her dress too tight. A soft gasp escaped her lips as a dizzying wave of sensations overtook her. Something was wrong.
Aisha's heartbeat raced. Her thoughts blurred. Every touch of fabric against her skin felt magnified, every whisper in the ballroom sending a shiver down her spine.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" The servant's voice cut through the haze, feigned concern laced in his words.
"I… I am fine," she murmured, gripping the edge of the nearest table for support. Her legs felt weak, her body betraying her control.
The servant stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You seem unwell. There's a lounge upstairs where you can rest. Let me take you there."
Aisha blinked at him, her instincts struggling to surface through the drug-induced fog. She felt vulnerable, lost in an overwhelming sensation she couldn't fight.
And as she swayed on her feet, unsure of what was happening to her, the trap closed in tighter around her.
But before the servant could make his move, a sharp gaze locked onto him from across the room. Rishi had been keeping an eye on Aisha all evening, and the moment he noticed her flushed cheeks, her trembling hands, and the predatory way the servant hovered over her, something in him snapped.
Without drawing attention, he maneuvered through the crowd, his steps quick and deliberate. By the time he reached them, the servant had barely placed a hand on Aisha's arm to guide her away. A steel grip wrapped around the man's wrist, stopping him cold.
Rishi's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Where do you think you're taking her?"
The servant stammered, attempting to pull away, but Rishi wasn't letting go. His other arm encircled Aisha's waist, steadying her against him. Her body felt too warm, her breath erratic, but she instinctively leaned into his presence.
Realizing the severity of the situation, Rishi didn't waste another second. With swift force, he yanked the servant away and, in a silent but brutal warning, landed a solid punch to his gut. The man crumpled with a pained grunt, gasping for air.
Rishi knelt down, gripping his collar. "If you so much as look at her again, you'll regret it."
Without waiting for a response, he lifted Aisha effortlessly into his arms and carried her out of the ballroom. The host barely had time to approach before Rishi tersely informed them that something urgent had come up, and they needed to leave.
With Aisha nestled against his chest, he made his way to the car, rage simmering beneath his otherwise calm exterior. He had almost lost control back there....but no one, absolutely no one, would ever lay a finger on her while he was around.
Once inside the car, he pulled out his phone and swiftly dialed the host's number. As soon as the call connected, he spoke in a clipped, authoritative tone. "Something urgent has come up. we need to leave immediately. Apologies for the abrupt departure."
The host, though surprised, assured him they understood, and Rishi ended the call without further explanation. His only priority now was Aisha.
Aisha stirred slightly beside him, her fingers reaching out unconsciously until they found his hand. She gripped it, her skin burning against his. Her voice, soft yet needy, broke the silence. "It feels good to hold your hand..."
Rishi's breath hitched, his entire body tensing at her words. His heartbeat pounded against his chest as he watched her shift closer, her delicate fingers fumbling at the fabric of her dress. The warmth of her touch against his hand sent fire through his veins, and every nerve in his body screamed for restraint.
"Aisha, stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse, but she wasn't listening.
Her hazy, half-lidded eyes locked onto his, filled with something raw, something dangerously intoxicating. She trembled as she tugged at the hem of her dress, her breaths shallow and erratic. Every movement was unsteady, desperate. His grip tightened around her wrist, stopping her as she tried to slide the fabric off.
"Aisha, you don't know what you're doing, stop this !" he said, his voice strained with the effort to keep control. But her fingers found his chest, trailing up, igniting sparks beneath his skin.
"Your body... it's so cool against mine. It feels so good," she whispered, her breath hot and uneven, her fingers tracing slow, tantalizing patterns over his chest. "Take off your shirt... let me feel you properly." Her nails scraped lightly against his skin, sending a shudder through him. The car felt too small, too suffocating, the air between them thick with something electric. The scent of her, the warmth of her breath fanning against his neck, made his pulse hammer. He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body coiled tight, waging a silent war between temptation and restraint.
Rishi squeezed his eyes shut, his heartbeat thundering in his ears as Aisha's fingers continued their slow, torturous path over his skin. Every fiber of his being screamed to give in, to claim the heat she was so willingly offering. His breathing was ragged, his pulse wild, his control hanging by a mere thread.
With a desperate groan, he grasped her wrists, his grip firm but trembling. "Aisha… if you don't stop now… I won't be able to control myself."
But she didn't stop. Instead, she let out a soft, sultry laugh, her lips brushing dangerously close to his ear. "Then don't…" she whispered, her voice a siren's call, her body pressing flush against his.
His restraint shattered. But before he lost himself completely, he did the only thing he could to keep them both from crossing a line they couldn't return from. With a swift, decisive motion, he pulled his belt free from his waist and, in one fluid movement, wrapped it around her wrists, tying them together gently but securely. Then, he reached for her seatbelt and pulled it tight, locking her in place.
Aisha gasped, tugging at the restraints, her eyes wide, her breath coming in short, heated pants. "Hey stop it… what are you doing?"
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he fought to steady himself. His jaw clenched, his voice a mix of apology and frustration. "Forgive me, Aisha. But I had to do it. If you keep pushing me like this… I won't be able to stop myself."
Her lips parted, her expression caught between surprise and something deeper, darker. But before she could say anything, Rishi leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, his voice a husky whisper. "You have no idea what you're doing to me… but I won't let you regret this in the morning."