As the lights dimmed and the wedding stage lit up, Shruti Sanon, Bollywood's reigning diva, made her grand entrance. The thumping beats of the music filled the air, and her graceful yet electrifying dance captivated the audience. The crowd erupted in awe, unable to take their eyes off her mesmerizing moves. Tonight, she was the center of attention—the only celebrity at this lavish wedding, her presence alone a testament to the family's status.
But something felt... off.
Despite the grandiosity of the event, Shruti couldn't shake the thought gnawing at the back of her mind. She had performed at countless weddings before, but never for a sum like this. ₹3 Crores for a half-hour performance? That kind of money was more common among the ultra-elite, the tycoons and royalty, not a family that was rich but certainly not celebrity-level wealthy. It was unusual—she couldn't even remember the last time someone paid such a staggering amount for her appearance at a private event.
And yet, here she was, twirling and swaying under the spotlight, her every move watched intently. The deal had been brokered through her agent, and while she was informed of the staggering fee, no one had told her exactly who had footed the bill. Whoever it was, they had gone to great lengths to make sure Shruti was the only star on stage tonight. No other performer, no other distraction. Just her.
As the lights dimmed and the wedding stage lit up, Shruti spun gracefully on stage, her eyes caught sight of a man seated in the front row. Among the sea of well-dressed guests, he stood out immediately. Towering at 6'2", his broad shoulders and striking presence were hard to miss. His features, a curious mix of aristocratic elegance and warmth, gave him an imposing aura. He was staring at her—no, ogling at her—with a predatory intensity that sent a strange thrill up her spine. Unlike the respectful admiration of others, his gaze was bold, unapologetically lewd.
As Shruti completed her final twirl and the performance ended, she couldn't shake off the thought of that man. Who was he? Why did his stare feel so different, so commanding? Shruti turned to her manager backstage. "Who's that guy sitting up front? The tall one."
Her manager glanced around, confused. "I don't know, ma'am. He's not someone from the usual circles."
Determined to give the man a good dressing down, Shruti changed into a sleek, form-fitting gown that shimmered under the soft lights of the wedding hall. Her frustration simmered just beneath the surface as she scanned the crowd, searching for him. How dare he stare at her like that? She wasn't some object for his amusement.
"Enjoying the view?" she said, her voice tinged with playful accusation as she stood before him, arms crossed.
The man looked up slowly, a sly smile curving his lips as he met her gaze head-on. His voice, deep and smooth, echoed his calm confidence. "More than you know."
Shruti raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're staring as if you've never seen a woman before."
"Oh, I've seen plenty," he replied, leaning back in his chair, completely unbothered. "But none like you."
She narrowed her eyes, refusing to be intimidated. "You think you can just sit on a front-row seat and stare at me like that? Who do you think you are?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, his piercing gaze never leaving her. "You don't know, do you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with mystery. "I'm the reason you're here."
Her heart skipped a beat. So, he was the one who had sponsored her performance? She had expected a wealthy businessman, sure, but nothing had prepared her for this level of arrogance—or the unsettling allure that radiated from him.
"You?" she asked, folding her arms, trying to mask the sudden flicker of curiosity.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening with amusement. "I'm just a friend of the groom's father. A small favor for an old friend, and you're my... gift to them for the night."
Her breath caught at his words. There was a dangerous undertone in his voice, one that stirred something unfamiliar within her.
Shruti's voice was low but firm. "Well, next time, keep your gifts to yourself."
The man laughed softly, raising his glass to her, his gaze still burning through her. "But that wouldn't be any fun, would it?"
The tension between them hung heavy in the air as their eyes locked, both challenging and intrigued. The night was far from over, and something told Shruti that this man wasn't the type to let her walk away so easily.
PS: Open for discussion in private.