The girl was still screaming in panic when Riyan angrily clamped his hand over her mouth.
The girl, terrified by the flight's takeoff, widened her eyes in shock as Riyan's stern and intimidating face hovered inches from hers.
Glaring at her, Riyan snapped, "Are you mad? If you're this scared of flying, why the hell did you get on the plane? You should've taken a bullock cart to Dubai instead!"
Before he could finish venting, a flight attendant arrived.
She spoke politely, "Sir, do you need any help?"
Riyan straightened up and gave her a smile. "No, thank you. Actually, my wife gets nervous every time she flies."
"Alright, sir. Let us know if you need anything," the attendant said sweetly and walked away.
Simran's eyes grew even wider as she stared at Riyan. "Oh damn! You had no shame calling me your wife! Who the hell are you? And why are you even sitting next to me? I won't spare you!"
Riyan was stunned to see the same girl who, moments ago, had been like a scared kitten, now roaring like a lioness.
Before he could say anything, she continued, "Oh Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is, apologize to me right now or I'll scream and ruin your dignity in front of everyone! Don't you know who I am? I'm from Patiala village. My name is Simran Kaur!"
This was Riyan's first time dealing with a true desi girl. Having lived most of his life in Dubai and just a few years in Mumbai, he had always thought desi girls were shy and innocent. But Simran was blowing his assumptions out of the water.
The man who used to command the world with a snap of his fingers was now facing the fire in Simran's bold, fiery eyes.
Simran was about to speak again when suddenly, Riyan unfastened his seatbelt, leaned over, and captured her lips in a fierce kiss.
Simran's eyes widened in shock. She started pushing him away, but Riyan seemed lost in the taste of her lips. Her hands on his chest felt like cotton to him.
He kept kissing her for what felt like ten full minutes, as if he were trying to devour her entirely. But Simran didn't give up and finally bit his lip—hard.
"Ahhh!"
Riyan pulled back, staring at her, blood now trickling from his lip.
Fuming, Simran raised her hand to slap him, but Riyan caught it mid-air.
Bringing her hand to his lips, he wiped the blood off and said coldly, "Baby, don't ever make the mistake of touching Riyan Raichand again. This hand is meant to love, not to hit."
Simran gritted her teeth. "You disgusting man, I won't spare you! As soon as this flight lands in Dubai, I'll file a police complaint. You'll go straight to jail!"
Riyan laughed. "Oh my wild cat, you not only bite but threaten too? I need to tame you. And if another word escapes those sweet pink lips of yours, I swear—you won't be able to walk out of this flight. Go ahead, scream and tell everyone what I just did. My blood on your lips will be proof of your violence. Enough to ruin your reputation."
With a crooked smirk, Riyan leaned back. Simran, now furious and embarrassed, turned to look out the window. It was pitch dark—night had fallen.
Riyan turned back to her. "By the way, who gave you the business class ticket? Did you run away from home? Or did you steal someone's ticket? Better tell me the truth or I'll report you to the police."
Simran panicked, thinking he had caught onto her secret. She quickly pouted her lips and started fluttering her lashes with a fake innocent expression.
Riyan watched her, amused and confused.
In a sweet voice, Simran began, "My father wanted me to get married, but I wasn't ready. I had dreams, I wanted to stand on my own feet. So, with the help of my friend, I ran away to Mumbai. But then my brothers found me there too. So, following that same friend's advice, I came to Dubai."
She narrated her entire story—but kept a few secrets to herself.
What are those secrets?
That... we'll find out in the next part of the story.
Stay tuned...