1. The Hell Is Deceiving

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Rivaah Verma was miles away from the world of elites. Her days usually consisted of her nine-to-five job, movies with friends, dinner with her family, and limited time spent in solitude during her routine travel. She had woken up that morning expecting nothing different than usual. Not that she's not open to changes, she hadn't just expected that change to bring with itself a storm so powerful it was going to uproot her entire life from its precedented normalcy.

That storm, you asked? It came with a name.

Kabir Raichand.

A miracle, they called him. A boon to the business world. He inherited family business at the ripe age of twenty-four after graduating from Harvard at the top of his class. The youngest CEO of the country, the most sought-after bachelor. But with divine looks and such incredibly successful career comes endless opportunity and options. Opportunities that he snatched, options that he explored.

Much to Rivaah's dismay, one of those options ended up being her best friend, an option explored indeed, but an option discarded as well.

So, there she stood, driven by impulse, breathless and a tad bit scared after having emptied a glass of orange juice on the man that broke her poor best friend's heart. Maybe what she did was thoughtless. You don't walk into one of the city's fanciest establishments, intrude into an obviously important meeting and hurl orange juice on the man's face that is supposedly feared across the country. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

Her hand trembled as he expanded to his full height, dressed in a finest Armani, the man put together to the minute details of his existence. Despite being drenched in a glassful of sticky, sweet liquid, he appeared to be calm, unfazed. His movements so graceful, his gaze so swift, no hurried glances, no panicked reflexes, everything about the man seemed to be slow and measured, leading unfastened, almost sensual, as if even time takes its time with him, for he deserves absolute dedication of one's gaze, their attention, their patience.

The dark onyx eyes, usually framed behind thick glasses, unfurled in her direction, taking in her fiery amber ones. He departed a quick once-over down her body and appreciated what he saw. Such a waste. Only if he hadn't met the woman in such unforeseen circumstances, only if she hadn't made the mistake of offending him in room full of people.

Kabir Raichand loathes people.

He merely tolerates them.

You don't want to get on his bad side when you were never on his good one.

People are a mess. They feel too much, think too much, try too hard, give up too late. They are difficult to control and control is something he's inherently obsessed with. He steers away from people unless he requires their assistance; sometimes in business, sometimes in bed. He prefers keeping them away, so when they don't stay away, and when they make the mistake of catching his attention the wrong way, they should be prepared for the worse.

Rivaah wasn't prepared for the worse. She wasn't even prepared for her own actions that had unfolded in the last few minutes. She had a terrible last night, her long-time crush had brought a girl over, and she was growing a bad temper this morning when she spotted that woman sharing the same elevator as her, sporting a big red hickey on her neck. Men, so fucking disgusting. Then came her best friend barreling towards her, blabbering about being disposed of and ghosted after a night of passion with a man at the club. That man, the abomination to love itself, yet loved passionately by lust, infamously called as The Heartbreaker, the prominently massive figure standing in front of her, looking like he was carved by the God's hands, his every inch meticulous and perfect. He incorporated beauty as his own. Like the very word was invented to solely describe him. Exquisite to the last detail.

Did she regret her actions?

If he was someone else? No, she'd have perhaps thrown another glass of orange juice at his face.

But He's him. He's Kabir Raichand.

And he hasn't said a word yet. No. He was still watching her. His eyes, endlessly dark, like midnight sky, a lone spark in those pupils but otherwise blank. She glanced over her shoulder, at her best friend who stood at the restaurant entrance with horror etched on her face. Rivaah swallowed a mouthful of anxiety and looked back at him. He had turned his head slightly now, pale, thick veined hands unfolding swiftly, and a man behind quickly shoved a bunch of tissues in his hands. Kabir folded the tissues in pleats, patted his face dry and put them down on the table before meeting her gaze again.

"Miss?" He trailed, the cadence of his tone dangerously low, not revealing how it really sounds like.

Rivaah cleared her throat. Now that her anger had lost her, consequences were faster to chase. "Verma, Rivaah Verma."

His lips tilted just a smidge at the corners, very polite and professional. "I assume we have developed a sort of misunderstanding between us that you didn't give me a chance to acknowledge. If any action of mine has severely offended you..." His gaze drifted off to a familiar face at the entrance and he tamed the anger low, keeping his persona alive for the sake of his public image, and looked back down at the tiny spitfire of a woman, "Or someone you love, then I apologize from the bottom of my heart. But if you give me a chance to explain myself, maybe we can take this somewhere private?" He offered softly.

Rivaah blinked, gaping like a fish. She had just dumped a glass of orange juice on him. Why was he being so polite to her? Did her best friend bring her to the wrong man? No, she clearly remembered the emphasize of Kabir fucking Raichand. Was he putting on a show? She wouldn't be surprised considering the multiple pair of eyes on them. And she cannot bail out now. She had taken all her anger out on him. He deserved a chance to explain himself. It was a miracle he was even considering that. Given his image, she was afraid they'd be thrown out of the restaurant.

"Sure," she raised her chin confidently.

"Very well, this way," he motioned, stopping momentarily close to his secretary to whisper something, and led the way to somewhere more private.

Rivaah looked over her shoulder and beckoned her best friend to follow her. Jiya shook her head. Rivaah shot her a menacing glare and the woman scrambled in, keeping her head shielded from the gawking audience. They entered a cabin, tucked away from the regular tables, overlooking the Juhu beach. He held the door open as the two walked in before closing it shut and walking over to the windows to pull the curtains close.

His shadow, mightier than him, stood behind him like a hooded figure, dominating the dimly lit walls. "What is this about, ladies?" And his real voice, an audible force, refined and rich, dark and deep, leaked through the tightly infused anger. "Did you not stop to think about the consequences when you pulled that stunt?" He took a step towards Rivaah, and at the unexpected change in his behavior, she found herself rooted to the ground. "You should be grateful I don't carry an entourage of guards with myself, because that outside was a breach of privacy and you could be jailed for it." His jaw flexed, fury coming undone in those inky dark eyes. "Do you not know who I am? How did you find my whereabouts? Are you a stalker?" he leaned into her and she stumbled back, tripping on her feet clumsily. His hand shot out to clutch her arm and he jerked her straight, his grip painful enough to reduce her to breathless whimpers. Kabir found himself growing fond of those sounds, he could foresee himself getting addicted to them. "You cannot even look into my eyes. Where did you get that momentary confidence from, lady?"

"You- you can be jailed too. Fo-For luring women into your bed under the pretext of false promises." She stuttered, but she made a point of looking into his eyes as she said that. "And I'm not your stalker. Unfortunately, you have plenty already. I just had to open social media to find your location on one of your fan pages."

"What false promises?" he whispered, his grip around her arm softening, but he didn't let go. Not yet. He wanted her close. She's a delectable little thing, something about her stirred a very primary instinct inside him.

"Let me go first," and she has a presence of mind.

He freed her the next instant and clenched his fist as she scurried back, standing next to the other woman in the room. He had honestly forgotten about her.

Rivaah squirmed under the watchful eyes. His gaze was unnerving. It revealed nothing, yet demanded your attention like it owned you.

"What false promises, Ms. Verma? Elaborate." He commanded.

"You- you-" She swallowed dryly, suddenly flustered, embarrassed. "You slept with my best friend with the promise of more and then you ghosted her."

His gaze, for a split second flickered to her best friend and he shook his head. "Promise is rather a heavy word, Ms. Verma. I remember the handful people I have used it for, and your friend certainly didn't make into that list. Would never either."

Rivaah looked at Jiya in shock.

"He- he didn't use the word, but he said he'll call me." She justified meekly.

"You missed an adverb there, Ms...... Ms. Verma's friend." A poor substitution, but works. "I clearly remember saying Maybe. Maybe I'll call you. It's a possibility, not a promise, not by a long shot."

Rivaah shot him a glare. "You don't remember the name you screamed that night, but you remember what you said?" She mocked.

At her implication, he smirked devilishly, "While screams do serve as a constant reminder of a partner in my bed during the nights I'm physically active, I assure you, none of them belong to me." And for the first time, his dark eyes twinkled, a spark of mischief proving they know how to express, if only rarely.

Rivaah hated the way heat engulfed her cheeks at his words. "Let's admit miscommunication happened on both ends and clear it up with an apology." She decided. "I admit, I made an impulsive decision and didn't give you a chance to explain. I was angry at something else and my anger was poorly displaced, so I apologize."

"Apology accepted." He nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

Rivaah stared at him stunned. "You apologise too!"

"For what exactly?" He frowned. "If I remember correctly, whatever happened between your friend and me was consensual. Did I force you, Ms. Verma's friend?"

Jiya looked down, feeling hurt for the way he addressed her.

"Her name is Jiya, for God's sake!" Rivaah snapped.

"Am I supposed to remember every stranger's name I sleep with?" he countered.

"Yes!" she gritted out. "Unless you are a manwhore who sleeps with countless women a day!"

A big mistake.

Kabir cornered her against the walls in two long strides. She let out a breathless gasp, shocked and heady because of his proximity. He dominated the space with his massive physique. "That mouth; rein it tight or I'll shut it close." He seethed in her face.

Jiya stepped towards them, "Let her go. We'll leave-" she faltered when he directed his glare towards her, and slowly shook his head in a warning.

He looked back down at Rivaah, his long and slender fingers reaching beneath her chin to tilt her face up. She jerked away from his touch. Furious, he gripped her jaw and forced her to face him. Their eyes met and Kabir released a breath. This woman would be a wild hurricane in the bed. He suddenly couldn't get the temptation of having her under his control out of his head. "So very cliché of you to get my attention the way you did, but you have it now."

She avoided his eyes with dedication. "I don't intend to keep it."

"Then leave,"

"I expect an apology before," she imposed firmly.

"If only the world ran on your whims," he leaned in, his breath ghosting across her lips, the pad of his thumb fleeting down her jawline and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "If only I ran on your whims."

She ducked from beneath his arms and his lips turned at the corner. He stood straight and looked at her, amused at the woman's antics.

"Why can't you just apologize?" She frowned. "You apologized outside."

"A lie. It meant nothing. I'm a philanthropist and a billionaire, I have an image to keep." He shrugged. "But if meaningless apology is what you want, I can give it to you. I don't want to though. Not to you."

"Why not?" She asked, confused. Even if fake, he could have said it and they'd be out of his hair.

"For some reason," he stepped closer and she moved back. "I don't want to give you anything meaningless to remember."

Rivaah hid her trembling hands behind her back. Something about this man screamed danger. He wasn't what the media described him. He wasn't just a playboy, a prodigy and a product of nepotism. He carried himself with a certain level of concealed insanity, a glimpse of which she is afraid she has witnessed today.

"Jiya, let's go!" she hurried towards the door. Her friend agreed, more than eager to get out of this man's vicinity. Rivaah opened the door and let her friend step out first, about to follow suit when a large hand slammed down on the doorframe, shutting it close. Rivaah flinched physically.

Jiya banged on the door from outside, "Rivaah! Rivaah!"

Rivaah's hand shook as she struggled to unlock the door. And she visibly recoiled feeling his breath fan her earlobe, "We're meeting again, Rivaah. Soon." Before he opened the door and nudged her out, closing it again.

She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door while her friend asked her whether she was okay.

She wasn't.

She had this ominous feeling that she has made a grave mistake by catching the eye of this devil.

Maybe hells on the earth didn't care if you deserved heaven or not. Maybe hells on the earth are prettier than one would assume, a beauty so deceiving it gives you a false sense of paradise.

Maybe she had just encountered one of them.

And unlike what she thought, she hasn't escaped it yet.

So, I know I made some major changes in this chapter, but you have to understand a common girl breaching the security of a restaurant and throwing a glass of orange juice on supposedly the country's richest man is highly unrealistic. Since I didn't want to scrape the whole thing off because that would take away the originality of it, I tried to work around it a bit and gave it a slightly logical approach.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Make sure to vote and comment. Makes my day.


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