The Seafront Project was Myra's magnum opus. For months, she had poured her soul into the blueprints, calculating every structural pillar that would hold up the Khurana legacy. But as she stood in the sterile, cold hallway leading to the Grand Boardroom, a hollow pit formed in her stomach.
Her flash drive felt light in her hand—too light.
Inside the boardroom, the air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the quiet rustle of high-stakes papers. Reyansh sat at the head of the table, his face a mask of granite. Beside him sat Shanaya, who had "invited herself" as a representative of the interior styling team. Across the table sat the Board of Directors—men who viewed Myra as nothing more than a temporary distraction
"Miss Kapoor, we are waiting," the Chairman said, his voice impatient.
Myra plugged in her drive. The screen flickered. A gasp rippled through the room. Instead of the elegant arches of the Seafront Hotel, the screen displayed a mess of amateurish, structurally impossible designs with a red watermark: "PROPERTY OF VERMA ARCHITECTS - COPYRIGHT STOLEN."
"What is this?" the Chairman roared. "Miss Kapoor, are you presenting us with plagiarized work?"
Myra's blood ran cold. She looked at her files. Her original work had been deleted, replaced with these corrupted templates. Her eyes darted to Sarah, who was smirking, and then to Shanaya.
"This... this isn't my work," Myra stammered. "My files were tampered with."
"Enough," Reyansh's voice cut through the room like a guillotine. He didn't look at her with pity. He looked at her with a chilling, detached disappointment. "The Khurana Group does not tolerate incompetence. If you cannot defend your own work, do not expect me to do it for you."
"Reyansh, please..."
"I know what I see," he interrupted. "Board, I apologize for the waste of time. We will review Miss Kapoor's position. Until then, the project is suspended."
The Midnight Penance: The Predator's Debt
When Myra returned to the penthouse that night, she wasn't crying. She was vibrating with a silent, white-hot fury. She slammed the door to the master bedroom and found Reyansh standing by the window, a glass of scotch in his hand, watching the city lights.
"You let them do that," she hissed, throwing her bag onto the floor. "You knew Sarah stole those files. Why didn't you say anything?"
Reyansh turned slowly. "I protect my property, Myra, but only when it proves its worth. Today, you let them take your voice. Why should I give it back to you?"
"You want to talk about property?" Myra walked toward him, her eyes burning with a dark, desperate light. "You said out there we are strangers, and in here, I'm just a body. A distraction. Fine. Let's be distractions."
She didn't wait for him to respond. She reached out and ripped his silk tie away, tossing it to the floor. Her fingers, trembling with rage and adrenaline, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until it hung open, revealing the hard, scarred expanse of his chest.
Reyansh didn't move. He watched her, his breath hitching as she dropped to her knees in front of him.
"Myra, what are you doing?" he rasped, his hand gripping the back of her head, but he didn't pull her away.
"I'm paying my debt," she whispered against the skin of his stomach.
She worked with a feverish, vengeful intensity. She unbuckled his belt and pushed his slacks down, her eyes never leaving his as she exposed him to the moonlight. She began to trail hot, lingering kisses along his inner thighs, her tongue tracing the veins in a way that made him groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated torment.
She was no longer the shy architect. She was a woman reclaiming power through submission. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip of his length, tasting the salt and the heat of his arousal. She bit him—lightly, possessively—leaving the same kind of mark on his skin that he had left on her neck.
"Myra... stop," Reyansh groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her face. His eyes were no longer cold; they were blown wide with a primal, agonizing hunger.
"Why?" she challenged, her lips wet and swollen. She leaned forward again, licked the very tip of him, and looked up at him through her lashes. "Isn't this what you wanted? A distraction? A body? I'm proving my worth, Reyansh. Is this enough for you?"
Reyansh let out a low, animalistic growl. He reached down, grabbed her under her arms, and hauled her up onto the bed, pinning her beneath him. The "Ice King" was dead. In his place was a man who had been completely dismantled by the woman he tried to break.
"You think this is a game?" he hissed, his face inches from hers, his heart hammering against her ribs. "You want to prove your worth? Then you stay in this bed. You don't leave. You don't breathe unless I tell you to.
Author's Thought
THE POWER SHIFT! 😱🔥 Myra used his own "sex buddy" comment against him to break his composure!🚩🚩🚩