Chapter 1
Mahi’s Point of View
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of my dorm room, casting golden patterns on the floor that seemed to mock my anxiety. Today was the day. The first day at Vanguard University—the prestigious institution where the elite rubbed shoulders, and where I, Mahi Patel, had secured a seat not through the brilliance of my mind, but through the weight of my father’s checkbook.
I sighed, standing before the full-length mirror. My reflection stared back—warm, rich brown skin glowing under the soft light. I had chosen my outfit carefully, a buttery soft silk top with a deep U-shaped neckline that hugged my torso, cascading down to tuck into a high-waisted skirt that accentuated my thick thighs. I loved fashion; it was armor. In a world where I often felt like the underdog, looking good was my way of smiling back at life.
I grabbed my bag, slipping in my latest manuscript notebook. Writing dark romance was my escape. In my books, I controlled the darkness. I could make the monsters fall in love. Real life, unfortunately, offered no such guarantees.
Stepping out of the dorms, the campus of Vanguard University sprawled before me like a beast made of stone and ivy. It was breathtaking, intimidating, and utterly massive. I smoothed my hair, my deep brown waves bouncing on my shoulders, and checked my phone.
“Meet me by the fountain near the Arts block. – Maitri.”
Maitri was my cousin, another piece of this complicated family puzzle. Unlike Niyati, who was probably already sitting in the front row of her Advanced Calculus lecture looking like a model student, Maitri and I were the… others. The ones who scraped by.
I found Maitri near the fountain, her eyes darting around nervously. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, clutching her books to her chest.
“Mahi!” she breathed, rushing forward. “This place is huge. I think I’m already lost, and I haven’t even entered a classroom yet.”
I laughed, linking my arm through hers. “Relax, Maitri. We’re here to survive, not conquer. Niyati is the conqueror; we’re just the tourists with very expensive tickets.”
We began exploring the campus, navigating the labyrinthine corridors. The energy was electric, buzzing with students who reeked of old money and entitlement. As we rounded the corner toward the main quad, the atmosphere shifted. The chatter died down to a hush, eyes widening, heads turning.
A low rumble of engines vibrated through the soles of my sandals. I looked up to see a line of sleek, black luxury cars rolling up the cobblestone drive. They stopped with a precision that felt military.
“Who is that?” Maitri whispered, her voice trembling.
I narrowed my almond-shaped eyes. “The kings of the castle, I assume.”
The door of the lead car, a matte-black beast that probably cost more than my house, swung open. A leg stepped out, encased in expensive denim, followed by a tall, broad-shouldered frame.
Aryan.
I recognized the type instantly. The swagger, the smirk playing on his lips—he was a predator. He looked around the crowd, his gaze cold, dismissing everyone as if they were ants. He radiated arrogance, the kind that came from never hearing the word ‘no.’
Then, the rear door opened.
The air seemed to leave the courtyard. Stepping out was a man who looked like he had been carved from ice and stone. Reyansh Rathore.
I had done my research. You didn’t enter this world without knowing the names of the players. Reyansh was the heir to the Rathore empire—a conglomerate of businesses that were legitimate on the surface but whispered to be built on blood and shadows underneath.
He stood tall, his posture rigid, his face a mask of utter indifference. He didn’t look like the boys I went to school with. He looked like a man who had seen hell and decided to redecorate it. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, his eyes dark and hollow, holding a void that seemed to swallow the light around him.
Beside me, Maitri stiffened. Aryan had locked eyes with her. It wasn’t a look of interest; it was a look of assessment, cold and calculating. Maitri shrank back, trying to hide behind my shoulder.
“Let’s go,” I said firmly, tugging her arm. I didn’t like the way Aryan was looking at my cousin, like she was a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve yet.
As we turned to leave, I inadvertently locked eyes with Reyansh. His gaze swept over me—blank, assessing, and then dismissive. It wasn’t a leer, nor was it curiosity. It was as if I didn’t exist.
A spark of irritation flared in my chest. I was used to being the ‘other’ Patel, but I refused to be invisible. I tilted my chin up, meeting his dead stare with a defiance I didn’t fully feel, and turned on my heel.
“Who were they?” Maitri asked once we were a safe distance away, her voice shaky.
“Trouble,” I muttered, clutching my bag strap tight. “Reyansh and Aryan. The campus royalty. Stay away from them, Maitri. Especially Aryan. He’s just a bully.”
We hurried toward the cafeteria, seeking solace in the noise and crowd. But as I sat down with my coffee, my mind drifted back to Reyansh. There was something about him… a darkness that called to the writer in me. He was the perfect template for a dark romance hero—cold, untouchable, broken.
But this isn’t a book, Mahi, I reminded myself sternly, opening my notebook to a blank page. This is reality. And men like Reyansh Rathore don’t fall in love. They destroy.
I scribbled a few lines for my new book, channeling my encounter into ink.
“He looked at her like she was a ghost from a past he wanted to forget. But ghosts have a way of haunting you until you acknowledge them.”
I closed the book with a snap. I would keep my distance. I had a degree to finish and a book to write. I didn’t have time to be a pawn in a mafia heir’s game. I had spent my life smiling through difficulties; I wasn’t about to let a spoilt rich boy with dead eyes wipe that smile off my face.
“Mahi, are you listening?” Maitri asked, waving a hand in front of my face.
I blinked, forcing a bright smile. “Yes, of course. Just thinking about the syllabus.”
But deep down, a shiver ran through me. I had a feeling that crossing paths with Reyansh Rathore was inevitable. And for a girl who wrote dark romance for fun, stepping into his world might just be the most dangerous story I’d ever live through.
Reyansh’s Point of View
The leather of the car seat was cool against my back, but it did nothing to quell the simmering rage beneath my skin. University. A cesspool of mediocrity and desperate ambition. My father had insisted.
“It’s about image, Reyansh,” he had said, his voice gravelly from years of smoking imported cigars. “You need the degree. You need to look like a civilized man before you take the throne.”
Civilized. As if the blood on our hands could be washed away by a piece of parchment.
I stepped out of the car, the noise of the campus hitting me like a wave of static. I hated this place. It smelled like cheap perfume, anxiety, and unchecked privilege. I adjusted my cuffs, scanning the crowd. They parted for me instinctively, like the sea splitting for Moses. Fear. It was a scent I was born into. I saw it in the way the boys stiffened and the way the girls lowered their gazes, blushing furiously while trying to catch my eye.
Aryan slammed his door shut, a cocky grin plastering his face. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed the power trip of being feared in a room full of civilians.
“Fresh meat,” Aryan muttered, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk.
“Behave,” I said, my voice low and devoid of emotion. “We’re here to sign the papers and leave. I have a meeting in the city at two.”
“Relax, Rey. I’m just looking,” Aryan chuckled, though his eyes had fixed on something—or someone—specific.
I followed his gaze to a pair of girls standing near the fountain. One looked terrified, clutching her books like a shield. The other… she stood differently.
She was petite, with a warm, glowing complexion that stood out against the stark grey of the university stone. She wore a silk top that hugged her frame, her silhouette soft and curvy in a way that was impossible to ignore. But it wasn’t her body that caught my attention. It was her expression.
Most people looked at me with three emotions: fear, lust, or greed. This girl looked at me with none of them. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes met mine, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flash of defiance. A judgment. She looked at me as if she had already dissected me and found me wanting.
It was… irritating.
“Who is that?” Aryan asked, eyeing the nervous girl beside the one in silk.
“Does it matter?” I replied coldly, tearing my gaze away from the girl with the defiant eyes. “They’re students. They’re irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant? Maybe,” Aryan mused, stepping forward. “But I think the scared one owes me an apology from the orientation last week. She spilled coffee on my shoes.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Aryan, leave it.”
But Aryan was already moving. He didn’t care about the coffee. He just wanted to see her squirm. I followed, not out of interest, but because if I didn’t intervene, Aryan would likely start a war with the trustees within the hour.
As we approached, I saw the girl in silk stiffen. She whispered something to her cousin and turned to leave. She was walking away. From me.
People didn’t walk away from Reyansh Rathore. They stood still and hoped I wouldn’t notice them. Her dismissal was a calculated insult.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Aryan called out, his voice smooth but laced with venom. He stepped in front of the nervous one, blocking their path.
The nervous girl—Maitri, I recalled from the student files I’d skimmed—froze. But the other one, the one with the curves and the soft waves of brown hair, stopped too. She didn’t cower. She stepped forward, placing herself between Aryan and her cousin.
“Excuse me,” she said. Her voice was melodic, surprisingly steady. “We’re just passing through.”
I stopped a few paces behind Aryan, watching her. Up close, she was even more striking. Her lips were full, the lower one pink and soft, contrasting with the brown hue of the upper lip. She had a cupid’s bow that looked like it was drawn by an artist. But her eyes… they were burning.
Aryan smirked, looking down at her. “Passing through? Without greeting us? This is our campus, sweetheart.”
“It’s a university, not your living room,” she shot back.
The silence that followed was heavy. My interest, previously non-existent, spiked a fraction. She had fire. Misplaced fire, but fire nonetheless.
Aryan’s smile dropped. He wasn’t used to backtalk. He reached out to grab her arm, but I moved faster. It wasn’t a heroic gesture; it was a strategic one. If Aryan bruised a girl on the first day, the paperwork would be a nightmare.
I placed a hand on Aryan’s shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to convey a warning. “Let them go.”
Aryan glanced at me, jaw tight, but he stepped back. He knew better than to cross me.
The girl in silk looked at me then. Really looked at me. I stared back, letting my mask of indifference settle firmly into place. I wanted her to see the void. I wanted her to see the monster she was challenging, so she would run and never come back.
Run, I thought. Be smart. Run away.
But she didn’t run. She held my gaze for another heartbeat, her expression unreadable, before turning and whisking her cousin away.
I watched them retreat. The sway of her hips was rhythmic, confident. She was dismissed me. Again.
" Feisty,” Aryan grumbled, adjusting his jacket. “I’m going to have fun breaking that spirit.”
“Don’t touch her,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could analyze them.
Aryan raised an eyebrow, a smirk returning. “Oh? The ice prince has an interest?”
I turned away, heading toward the administrative building. “I just don’t want the distraction. Focus on the business, Aryan. Not on girls who are clearly out of your league.”
I walked away, my stride long and purposeful. But inside, the image of the girl—Mahi, I remembered the name from the file—lingered. She wrote dark romance novels, the files had said. She wrote about villains and monsters.
It was ironic. She spent her life writing about men like me, romanticizing the darkness from the safety of her desk. She had no idea what the reality was.
If she wasn’t careful, she would find out. And by the time she realized the difference between her books and my reality, it would be too late. She would be consumed.
I pushed the thought away. I had no interest in a girl who lived with her head in the clouds. I had an empire to run. But as I entered the cool interior of the building, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mahi Patel was going to be a problem. A beautiful, curvy, defiant problem.
And I hated problems.
