Maya
The proximity between us had been undeniable. He was close—too close—but not in the way that evokes warmth or affection. No, Utsav Mehrotra was asserting dominance, marking his territory not out of love, but out of an unwavering need for control. His lips, his intense eyes, his commanding presence—his very touch—they haunted me. I hadn’t slept a wink last night.
The memory of how he unzipped my dress just to retrieve a photograph still lingered on my skin like a phantom sensation. There was something deeply significant about that picture—something more than just paper and ink. And that terrified me.
No matter how many times I try to peel back his layers, Utsav only becomes more unreadable. More dangerous. More... magnetic. The way he asked for the picture during our dance—if you could even call that a dance—wasn’t a request. It was a warning. A veiled threat wrapped in rhythm, cloaked in elegance, and carried by the storm within his gaze.
Utsav Mehrotra—the enigma I was desperate to decode—was becoming a puzzle far too intricate for my understanding. And still, I wanted to try.
I hadn’t changed out of last night’s dress. I hadn’t even moved from my bed. My mind was an absolute mess. Not of confusion. Not of regret. But of him. Of that one moment when he could’ve exposed me, yelled at me, cornered me in front of everyone. But he didn’t.
He knew I had trespassed into his room. He knew I had stolen something. Yet he didn’t drag me into the light. He let me go. Only to claim me later, silently, dangerously, on the dance floor. That grip on my wrist, the fingers digging into my waist, the unyielding pressure of his gaze—it wasn’t just about the photo. It was about power. His power over me.
He danced with me. Utsav Mehrotra—who’d sworn off every semblance of joy—danced. And for what? For me? For that picture? Or because Dhruv had touched what he thought belonged to him?
The way he looked at me that night—there was no rage, no chaos, no questions. Just a silent, raging storm. Controlled. Contained. Deadly. And all for that one picture.
What was in it? Who was in it?
And more importantly... why did it matter so much to him?
“Oh God, Maya... you’re going to die like this,” I muttered under my breath, frustration pouring out as I clutched my phone tightly. The same phone that now held a photo of that photograph—one I’d managed to secretly click before returning it to him.
A woman. No more than thirty. Smiling softly at the camera, radiant like morning light. Beautiful, yes—but more than that, she was important. Important enough to shake the composure of Utsav Mehrotra. But who was she?
Was he dating her? Was she his girlfriend? His sister? Or someone even more complicated?
I didn’t steal the photo with malicious intent—it wasn’t theft; it was curiosity. A dangerous, all-consuming curiosity that always got the better of me. And this woman... she meant something to him. So much so that her picture held the kind of weight that could unravel the cold, calculated mask he wore. It made him dangerous. Raw. Ready to unleash something deep and buried.
That alone made me want to know more. To understand him. To read him. He wasn’t just a man—he was a walking, breathing dark romance novel, and I was the reader turning his pages one by one.
I’ve written countless novels where my female protagonists become intrigued by complex, shadowed men. They sneak into offices, break into rooms, search for clues to understand what the male lead is hiding. But now, this isn’t fiction. This is my story. And Maya Shekhawat isn’t backing down. Not this time.
No matter how tightly Utsav Mehrotra guards his secrets behind those storm-filled eyes and icy silences, I will uncover them. I will barge into his world the way he barged into mine—without warning, without apology, and without mercy.
My thoughts spiraled faster than I could contain them, until a sharp ding broke the loop in my mind. A message lit up my phone screen. Aditi:
"Where are you, Maya? Come down. Let’s have some breakfast."
Of course. She had to message me—even though we were in the same house—because this mansion wasn’t a house. It was practically a mall. So sprawling, so extravagant, we might as well forget where our rooms even were.
"Be there in 10 minutes," I typed back, my fingers dancing smoothly over the screen.
With that, I finally dragged myself out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and stepped into a long, hot shower that did little to calm the chaos in my mind. When I returned, I slipped into a brown tank top paired with a dark brown skirt and cream tights. My hair went up in a messy, effortless bun—the kind that screamed aesthetic confidence. I stood before the mirror, assessing the woman staring back at me.
“This... this is the real Maya Shekhawat,” I whispered to myself, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.
Minimal makeup, dark brown matte lipstick, just a stroke of mascara—clean, sharp, powerful. Boss lady vibes in full force.
Because I’m not just Maya.
I’m the Maya Shekhawat.
And I’m not done with Utsav Mehrotra. Not even close.
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“Wait… he actually threatened you?” Ishanvi asked, her eyes wide with disbelief as she settled across from me, still dressed in her loose night jumpsuit, fresh from her beauty sleep.
“I thought he just… danced with you,” she added, her voice trailing off into confusion.
Across the dining table, Aditi let out a knowing smirk. She sat comfortably in an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. “Come on, Ishanvi. Utsav Mehrotra danced. With her. Do you even understand how shocking that was for all of us? The man refused to attend a single choreography rehearsal. Said he had no interest in dancing. And yet—he chose Maya.”
I rolled my eyes, unamused. “Oh, shut up. It wasn’t just a dance. It was a threat,” I said, my voice laced with irritation. “I’m telling you the truth—he was about to undress me if I didn’t return that picture.”
Both their jaws dropped.
I sighed deeply, taking a long sip of juice before continuing, “In the dim lighting, no one noticed what he was doing. His hands... they were on my zip. He was actually unzipping my dress. All for that damn photograph.”
“That’s… something else,” Ishanvi murmured, stunned. “We always thought he was the gentleman of the century. Calm, unreadable, stoic. But this? Going that far for a simple picture?” She shook her head. “That’s strange.”
I nodded slowly, pressing my lips together, letting the tension hang.
“But Maya,” Aditi said cautiously, her tone shifting, “it was your fault too. I mean… why would you take it? That’s his personal thing. You had no right to sneak into his room and touch his stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ishanvi cut in with a teasing grin. “We get it, Gyaani Mata,” she said, poking fun at Aditi’s sudden moral compass.
Aditi rolled her eyes while I bit back a laugh, smirking as I returned to my breakfast. We all fell into a brief, thoughtful silence—until I leaned back in my chair and wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin.
“Well,” I began slowly, “maybe I’ve gone too far... but honestly, who cares?” I glanced at both of them, my gaze confident and firm. “I’ve already said it—Utsav is mine. And I meant every word. I’m going to peel back every damn layer of that man. No matter how dark, how dangerous.”
They both watched me, silent now.
“And he made his mistake,” I added, voice low and final, “by declaring this a war... when he tried to undress me like that. Now? I’m not backing down.”
As we continued eating breakfast, my gaze unintentionally drifted toward the main hallway—and there he was.
Utsav Mehrotra.
Dressed in a crisp black suit, a sharp white shirt underneath, and tailored trousers that hugged his frame with military precision. Every movement he made was fluid yet commanding. His steps were never rushed, but deliberate—measured, powerful, as if he ruled every inch of space he walked through. There was no fumbling, no hesitation. Just purpose.
And watching him leave like that… just walk out the door as if nothing had happened the night before? It lit a fire in me.
This wasn’t over.
He declared war.
And Maya Shekhawat doesn’t lose.
“I’ll see you later, ladies,” I said abruptly, my voice clipped and rushed. Before they could ask where I was going or even process my tone, I was already halfway up from my chair. Aditi’s brow furrowed. Ishanvi called after me. But I didn’t stop. I tiptoed toward the hallway like a woman on a mission, careful, silent—like a shadow.
I wasn’t a thief.
I was a detective.
And he was my case.
I moved quickly but cautiously, my heels in hand to muffle the sound. As I crept closer to the main entrance, I saw him standing near the gate, speaking quietly with Aditya. A few guards lingered near the main gate—but the garage? I knew for a fact there were no CCTV cameras there. I’d been in and out enough to be certain.
My heart pounded in my chest, half from adrenaline, half from the sheer audacity of what I was about to do.
This was crazy.
This was reckless.
But it was also me.
The moment Utsav turned away and walked toward his car, I took my chance. Slipping through the side path like a phantom, I crouched behind the line of cars until I reached his—the sleek black one he always drove himself. The trunk wasn’t locked. Rookie mistake. Or maybe not. Maybe he never thought anyone would be mad enough to pull something like this.
And yet, there I was.
Maya Shekhawat. In the trunk of Utsav Mehrotra’s car.
Foolish? Absolutely.
But I was beyond the point of no return.
I tucked myself in, careful to make no sound, my entire body trembling with the thrill of the unknown. A thousand thoughts clawed at my brain, one more ridiculous than the next. What if he finds me? What if he drives to the edge of the city and dumps the car? What if this was a trap and he already knew?
A bead of sweat rolled down my spine as I curled into myself, trying not to breathe too loudly. The seconds stretched like hours. Then—click—the door opened, the engine revved, and the car began to move.
My entire body tensed.
Utsav was behind the wheel now.
And I was locked inside his world with no idea where it was going.
Uncertainty wrapped around me like a second skin. I wasn’t just nervous—I was terrified. Not of being caught. But of what I might see. Of what truth lay hidden behind Utsav’s stoic eyes and controlled demeanor. Because a man like him didn’t just threaten a woman over a photo. He unleashed a storm without raising his voice. That picture wasn’t just important—it was sacred.
And I was chasing after a sacred wound I didn’t understand.
My heart pounded so loud I was afraid he’d hear it through the metal. My fingers clutched my phone so tight it could’ve snapped in half. Every bump in the road jolted my body and fed the doubt clawing at my resolve. This wasn’t like one of my novels. This wasn’t fiction. This was real. I was risking everything—my pride, my plan, maybe even my life—for a mystery I had no right to dig into.
But still…
I needed to know.
Because something about him haunted me. Every glance, every touch, every silence screamed of buried truths too painful to speak aloud. And I… I wanted to be the one who heard them. Who earned them.
Today, I would see a part of Utsav Mehrotra the world didn’t know existed.
And I was afraid.
But more than that—I was ready.
After what felt like an eternity of bone-jarring bumps and heart-pounding silence, the car finally came to a halt. My body stiffened inside the cramped, dark trunk, every nerve on edge. I heard the distinct click of the door unlocking, then the soft thud of polished shoes hitting the ground. Utsav Mehrotra had stepped out. His movements were deliberate, unhurried—but they carried the same commanding authority he wore like a second skin.
Then, silence.
The engine died, and so did my breath.
I pressed my ear against the interior metal, catching the faint sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. Still, I waited. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Only when I was convinced he was no longer in immediate sight did I dare to push the trunk open, slowly, like peeling open the lid of a secret I was never meant to know.
And what I saw stole the air from my lungs.
A vast stretch of cracked, uneven land surrounded me. No traffic. No voices. No signs of civilization in sight. Only a long, dusty road curling away like a snake into the horizon. In front of me stood a tall, derelict building—abandoned, grey, and lifeless. Its cemented walls were cracked and decaying, its iron gates rusted over time. Vines crept across the structure like scars, and dust danced in the stale countryside wind. It felt like the kind of place stories whispered about—where things went to die, and secrets came alive.
And the strangest thing?
Rows of kerosene tanks were stacked haphazardly on the barren ground beside the building. Large, metal drums, sealed tight but unmistakable. My brows knitted together instinctively. What the hell was he doing here? This wasn't just suspicious—it was terrifying. Why would Utsav Mehrotra, the powerful, polished heart surgeon and secret enigma of high society, sneak away to a deserted site filled with fuel tanks and silence?
I slowly stepped out of the trunk, cautiously scanning my surroundings like a thief of truths. No sign of him. Not yet. My shoes touched the gravel softly, and my breath echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness.
Every inch of my body screamed go back. But curiosity… my cursed, stubborn, maddening curiosity pulled me forward.
With each step toward that haunted building, the world around me seemed to fall away. My heart thudded in my chest like war drums, each beat a reminder that I was moving deeper into something I couldn't understand. My throat grew dry, my hands trembled slightly, and beads of sweat collected at my hairline. I wasn't just nervous. I was terrified.
And yet… I kept walking.
Not because I was brave—but because I was desperate. Desperate to unravel him. To peel back the mystery that was Utsav Mehrotra. I had lived my life writing fictional heroes, flawed men who wore darkness like armor and dared women to love them anyway. But this—this was real. This was beyond the page. Beyond anything I could ever write.
And for the first time, I realized that my curiosity wasn’t just about knowing him. It was about knowing why he mattered to me so much. Why his silence echoed louder than any man's words. Why his touch lingered on my skin like it had branded me. Why one stolen picture could unravel both of us.
The closer I got to the building, the louder my inner voice screamed.
This is dangerous, Maya. This could ruin you. Break you. You’re not ready for the storm he hides.
But I clenched my jaw and moved forward anyway. Because maybe I didn’t want to be safe. Maybe I wanted the truth—even if it scorched me to ash.
I paused near the rusted side door of the building, pressing my palm flat against the cold wall. My breath hitched.
God help me… my curiosity will be the death of me one day.
And maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t mind.
And then I saw it.
My breath hitched so violently I nearly choked on it. My eyes widened in sheer panic, and I instinctively clutched the rusted edge of the door, gripping it like it could somehow ground me, protect me, save me from what I was witnessing. But no door, no steel, no wall in the world could shield me from the truth unfolding in front of my eyes.
My knees threatened to buckle. My heart plummeted so fast it was as if it had never belonged in my chest to begin with.
There he was—Utsav Mehrotra.
The man I had fallen for at first sight. The man I believed was too refined, too elegant, too composed to ever belong to the shadows. A man hailed by the world as a genius heart surgeon. A gentleman. A protector of lives.
But what I saw now… shattered every illusion I’d built around him.
He was sitting like a king—calm, composed, frighteningly authoritative—on a steel chair placed right in the center of the dimly lit, abandoned room. The flickering overhead light cast sharp shadows across his sharply cut features, only adding to the ominous aura that clung to him like a second skin.
He wasn’t alone.
Four men surrounded him, all dressed in black suits, their eyes shielded by dark glasses even in the dimness. Guns hung from their hands, casually, like it was second nature—like they didn’t just carry them, but lived with them.
And then my eyes fell on the man in front of Utsav.
A bloodied figure knelt on the cracked concrete floor. Shirtless. Bruised. His skin was torn in places, fresh gashes mixing with old scars. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, rope digging into his wrists. His head hung low in surrender, and though I couldn’t hear his voice, his body trembled violently. Tears streamed down his dirt-smeared cheeks, and a thick strip of duct tape silenced his mouth.
He looked up—just once—pleading, broken, utterly terrified. His eyes, bloodshot and wide, sought mercy.
But Utsav… he didn’t blink.
There was no emotion. No recognition. No sympathy.
His legs were crossed in a leisurely manner, like this was just another day, another case. In his right hand, resting idly on his knee, was a gun. Not raised. Not aimed. Just... there. Waiting. Heavy. Silent. Threatening.
He didn’t need to speak.
His stillness was a language of its own. A silent dominance that screamed louder than any threat could. And for the first time in my life, I saw the truth behind the polished suit and surgeon’s hands.
Utsav Mehrotra wasn’t just powerful.
He was dangerous.
This wasn’t a role. It wasn’t an act. This was who he was at his core—calculated, cold, and in complete control of the nightmare playing out in front of him. A man like him didn’t beg. He didn’t explain. He didn’t even flinch.
He ruled.
And I, Maya Shekhawat, hidden behind a cracked doorway in an abandoned countryside building, realized that I was standing on the edge of a world I didn’t understand. A world where mercy was weakness and power spoke through loaded guns and broken men.
A chill tore down my spine. My mouth went dry. I wanted to run, to scream, to pretend I hadn’t seen what I just saw. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe.
I had come here seeking truth.
And now…
I had found a monster wrapped in a man I thought I could love.
Then it happened.
A sharp, precise nod. That was all it took.
Utsav didn’t utter a word, didn’t gesture wildly—just that single, sharp nod to one of his men. It was a signal, silent but commanding. And in response, the suited man stepped forward and untied the bloodied victim’s wrists. The ropes fell to the floor with a quiet thud, like chains unfastening—but this wasn’t freedom. It was something far more sinister.
“Run.”
That voice.
I felt it more than heard it—low, cold, and threaded with unspoken threat. It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even an order. It was a sentence—one that could either offer a shred of hope or seal a fate.
The man on the floor whimpered, eyes widening in horror. “Please… Utsav… please,” he choked out, voice raspy and broken. A final plea. A desperate cry.
But Utsav didn’t blink.
He didn’t even twitch.
His eyes remained locked on the man, silent and hard, as if they were delivering the message his mouth didn’t need to speak: If I said run… then run.
And so the man did.
Or at least, he tried.
He stumbled to his feet, trembling violently, legs barely holding him up. Blood dripped from his torn flesh. Every step he took screamed of fear—not the fear of being chased, but the fear of knowing he wouldn’t make it far. That he was running not toward freedom, but toward something worse.
I watched him move toward the back of the building, his steps erratic, like his body was resisting even now. Like every part of him knew what was coming.
And then I saw why.
Three large metal tanks stood behind the building—tarnished, dented, and labeled in red. Kerosene.
My breath caught.
My blood ran cold.
No…
Utsav rose from the chair slowly, his movements calm, deliberate. He straightened his black coat with a single flick, like a man preparing for a formal meeting. But his eyes—those eyes—remained glued to the man. Cold. Calculated. Merciless.
He raised the gun—not at the fleeing figure, but at the tanks.
My hands flew to my mouth. My body froze. A sickening dread settled into my stomach.
The man turned back once, just once, his tear-stricken face pale in sheer terror. His lips trembled, a silent scream on the edge. Our eyes met for the briefest second, and I saw it…
He knew.
He knew what was coming.
And so did I.
Bang!
The single gunshot shattered the silence. A heartbeat later—
BOOM.
An explosion roared through the air, deafening and monstrous. The kerosene tanks burst into a storm of flame. Fire engulfed the man, swallowed him whole before he could even turn again. His scream—inhuman, piercing—echoed through the vast emptiness, reverberating off every wall, clawing into my skull.
I gasped, clutched the doorframe so tightly it dug into my skin. My knees buckled, and my eyes slammed shut in sheer horror. I couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t breathe.
But Utsav?
He didn’t flinch.
He stood there, still as stone, watching the blaze consume everything. There was no remorse in his gaze. No hesitation. No regret.
He watched the fire like a man watching art.
Unshakable.
Unbreakable.
Unforgiving.
And in that moment, everything inside me shifted. My heart didn’t just ache—it shattered. The man I thought I could love didn’t exist. He never did.
Utsav Mehrotra wasn’t just a heart surgeon.
He was a mafia king—a man who had danced so deeply with darkness that it had woven itself into his soul. A man who could end a life without a second thought. A man who ruled not with compassion, but with fear.
And I…
I was trapped.
Trapped in his world.
In his fire.
In his war.
I had come looking for answers. I had tiptoed through danger thinking I could uncover the truth and walk away untouched. But now?
Now I knew the truth wasn’t a thread to pull—it was a storm to survive.
The flames outside roared louder, and inside me, something cracked—my innocence, my certainty, maybe even my sense of self. What had I walked into? How much of this man had I truly known? How much of myself had I risked in trying to decode him?
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But more than anything… I wanted to run.
Because loving Utsav Mehrotra wasn’t just dangerous.
It was lethal.
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Do You think Maya should run away or stay to uncover more?
I know this chapter is long.. But its worth it.. If any person have any problem with this long chapter , comment down below I will repost it in two parts !
Next update soon
Till then take care
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