In Shaurya Singhania's strong, steel-like arms, Tara Mishra's heart was beating uncontrollably like a small restless bird in a cage. Shaurya, that fearsome mafia overlord, feared no one. But holding Tara in his arms, he too seemed to pause for a moment. They were now on the palace's large, winding staircase. With every step, Tara's internal battle between romance and reality continued. Her middle-class mind was just calculating how many lakhs these marble stairs must have cost.

"Ouch!" Tara's voice came out annoyed. Because as Shaurya, holding her with both hands, pushed open the heavy bedroom door with his foot, a loud sound echoed. "Boss, how can you solve everything with a kick or a bullet? This door won't work like that. If the hinges get loose, a carpenter will come and take a heavy fee again." She didn't lower her eyes.