The rhythmic thrum of heavy bass reverberated through the opulent walls of Dark Paradise, the city’s most notorious and exclusive nightclub. Known as a haven for the rich and powerful, the club was a breeding ground for sin, secrets, and scandal. The room was bathed in dim, neon lights that flickered in hues of purple and crimson, reflecting off the polished marble floors and the shimmering dresses of the women who moved like predators among the crowd.

Sharv sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey swirling lazily in his hand. He leaned back against the stool, his sharp jawline catching the low light, his devilishly handsome features commanding attention even in the chaos of the room. His black shirt clung to his athletic frame, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned chest. Around him, women glanced his way, their eyes filled with lust and curiosity, drawn to his enigmatic aura.

Sharv thrived in places like this. The chaos, the power plays, the unspoken rules of indulgence—they were all second nature to him. His striking features and honeyed words often fooled people into believing he was sweet, but beneath that charming façade lay a devil, one who thrived on control, violence, and pleasure.

Seated beside him were his closest companions, Veer, Dhruv, and Tanmay. Each of them was a prince in their own right, born into wealth and privilege, but it was Sharv who stood out, not just for his looks but for the way he commanded every room he entered.

Veer was the epitome of arrogance and confidence. The son of the country’s most successful builder, he had inherited not only his father’s wealth but also his ruthless business acumen. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a slightly rugged charm, Veer was always impeccably dressed, his designer suits tailored to perfection. Despite his charm, there was a sharp edge to him, a cunning that made him dangerous in both business and pleasure. He thrived in high-stakes deals and was known for his ability to manipulate people to get what he wanted. 

Dhruv was the group’s legal mastermind, a lawyer with a reputation for taking on cases others wouldn’t dare touch. He was tall and lean, with an air of sophistication that masked his deeply immoral tendencies. Dhruv didn’t care about right or wrong—he cared about winning and making money. Whether it meant defending criminals or fabricating evidence, Dhruv was always willing to dirty his hands for the right price. His sharp wit and persuasive tongue made him a formidable ally and an even more dangerous enemy. 

Tanmay, in contrast, was the heart of the group. Born into a family that had been in the gold business for generations, he had chosen to pursue a career as a doctor. Though he came from immense wealth, Tanmay had a soft, caring nature that set him apart from the others. He was the voice of reason in their chaotic world, often questioning their decisions but never fully standing against them. With his boyish charm and warm smile, Tanmay was a stark contrast to Sharv’s cold, calculating demeanor. 

Veer, nudged Sharv with his elbow.

“Look at you, man. Every woman in this place is practically drooling over you.”

Dhruv, sipping his scotch, chuckled.

“It’s the same everywhere we go. Sharv walks in, and suddenly no one else exists.”

Tanmay, the soft-spoken one among them, shook his head with a small smile.

“Maybe they see something we don’t. Or maybe they’re just drawn to trouble.”

Sharv smirked, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

“Trouble, huh? Let them come. I don’t bite... unless they ask nicely.”

The men laughed, their camaraderie evident despite their vastly different personalities.

Veer leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially.

“Speaking of trouble, there’s a woman over there who hasn’t taken her eyes off you all night.”

Sharv followed Veer’s gaze to a stunning woman seated in the corner. Her dress was daring, clinging to her curves in all the right places, her red lips curving into a provocative smile as their eyes met. She held his gaze confidently, her intentions clear.

“She’s practically begging you to come over,”

Veer added, grinning.

“Don’t keep the lady waiting.”

Sharv took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving hers. He set the glass down and smirked.

“Why would I, when she’s made it so easy?”

Dhruv laughed.

“Go get her, man. This is your playground, after all.”

Sharv stood, adjusting his shirt as he strode toward the woman with the confidence of a predator closing in on its prey. His walk was smooth, calculated, each step radiating power. When he reached her table, he leaned down slightly, his voice low and inviting.

“Mind if I join you?”

he asked, his lips curving into that signature smirk that made women melt.

She tilted her head, her smile widening.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come over.”

Sharv chuckled, offering her his hand.

“Let’s make this night memorable.”

She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to lead her through the crowd. His friends watched from the bar, their laughter following him.

“Of course, he’s taking her to the VIP room,”

Veer said, shaking his head.

“Where else?” Dhruv added, grinning.

The VIP room was a luxurious haven, isolated from the chaos of the club. Plush leather couches lined the walls, and the scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air. Sharv guided the woman inside, shutting the door behind them.

He poured himself another glass of whiskey from the decanter on the table, his movements slow and deliberate. Turning to face her, he leaned against the wall, his dark eyes scanning her like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You know,”

he began, his voice low and velvety,

“you’ve been staring at me all night. What is it you want?”

She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor, her lips curving into a sly smile.

“What do you think?”

Sharv’s smirk widened as he set his glass down, closing the distance between them. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch both gentle and commanding.

“maybe a good fuck ”

he whispered, his lips inches from hers,

“ then you came to the right place.”

His fingers brushed her cheek, his touch both gentle and commanding.

“Let’s see if you can handle what you’re asking for.”

The room blurred as Sharv’s charm took over, his control and dominance radiating in every movement. For him, this wasn’t about love or connection—it was about power and indulgence, a reminder of the control he held over everyone in his world.

______________________________________

The VIP room was steeped in a dim, sultry glow, the muted hum of the club's bass filtering through the walls. The scent of spilled liquor and expensive perfume hung in the air, mingling with the remnants of passion that had filled the room moments ago. 

Sharv adjusted his cufflinks as he stood before the mirror, his piercing gaze scanning his reflection. His shirt hung open, revealing the chiseled torso beneath, marred by faint scratches from the woman who still lay sprawled on the bed behind him. 

The woman stirred, her silk dress slipping off one shoulder as she watched him from beneath heavy lids. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen, and her dark eyes brimmed with desire and curiosity. 

“Sharv,” she called softly, her voice filled with longing.

“How can I contact you again?” 

Sharv froze mid-motion, his smirk curling into something devious as he turned to face her. His gaze raked over her, dark and calculating.

“Why would you need to?” 

She shifted uncomfortably, her confidence faltering under his piercing stare

. “I want to know more about you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. 

His smirk deepened, his tone dripping with sarcasm and cruelty.

“Know more about me?” He stepped closer, leaning down so his face was inches from hers.

“You already know the best part of me, sweetheart. That’s all there is.” 

The woman’s face fell, her breath hitching as she tried to mask the hurt his words caused. She turned her head away, sighing softly.

“Of course.” 

Sharv straightened, buttoning his shirt with precise movements before slipping into his blazer. Without another glance, he strode to the door, his cologne lingering in the air as a reminder of his fleeting presence. 

---

Sharv stepped into the club’s main area, the pounding music and kaleidoscope of lights momentarily disorienting. His sharp eyes immediately found Veer, Dhruv, and Tanmay sitting in their usual corner, nursing their drinks amidst the thinning crowd. 

Veer grinned when he spotted Sharv.

“Ah, there he is. So, how was it, Casanova?” 

Sharv grabbed a drink from the table, downing it in one go before answering.

“Not bad. But she was too noisy.” 

Dhruv raised an eyebrow, chuckling.

“Noisy? You’re really hard to please, Sharv. Some men would kill for enthusiasm like that.” 

Sharv smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“There’s a fine line between enthusiasm and being a nuisance. I prefer my nights… quieter.” 

Tanmay, always the voice of reason, shook his head with a faint smile.

“You’ve got issues, Sharv. Serious ones.” 

Sharv shrugged, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

“And you’re too soft, Tanmay. You wouldn’t survive a day in my world.” 

Veer raised his glass, his laughter ringing out. “Let’s drink to that!” 

---

The group talked and teased, their voices mingling with the fading music. Sharv, visibly tipsy, reached for another drink, his movements slower but still confident. 

“You’ve had enough, Sharv,”

Tanmay said, his tone firm.

“Let me drive you home.” 

Sharv waved him off dismissively.

“I’m fine. Stop fussing like a nurse.” 

Veer leaned forward, his tone more insistent.

“He’s right, man. You’re drunk, and it’s late. Let one of us take the wheel.” 

Sharv’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

“I said I’ll drive.” His voice carried a weight that silenced their protests. 

Dhruv sighed, exchanging a glance with Veer and Tanmay.

“Fine. But don’t come crying to us if you wrap your car around a pole.” 

Sharv smirked, grabbing his keys.

“That’s not going to happen. I’m not as reckless as you lot.” 

The three friends sighed in unison but relented, heading toward another car. Sharv strode to his sleek black sports car, the engine roaring to life as he settled behind the wheel. 

As he sped into the night, the neon lights of the city blurred around him. His thoughts were a swirling mix of dominance and indifference, the intoxicating cocktail of power and lust fueling his every decision. The darkness of the night mirrored the darkness that resided within him, a constant companion to his chaotic existence.

The black sports car tore through the empty residential streets like a beast unleashed, its engine roaring as if challenging the quiet of the night. Inside, Sharv gripped the wheel loosely, his head heavy from the alcohol coursing through his veins. The streetlights blurred into streaks of gold and white, his vision struggling to focus. 

“Just a little more,”

Sharv muttered under his breath, his words slurred. He tried to shake off the dizziness, but the alcohol dulled his reflexes, and his mind was foggy. 

Suddenly, a sharp turn approached, and Sharv’s hands slipped from the wheel. The car skidded, tires screeching violently against the asphalt. His foot pressed the brake, but it was too late. The car crashed head-on into a streetlight pole with a deafening *bang*, the impact sending shards of glass flying into the air. 

Inside, Sharv’s head slammed against the steering wheel, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. He groaned, the pain shooting through his skull like fire. The world spun around him, growing darker with each passing second. 

** 

Within moments, people began to gather around the wreckage. Their phones flashed as they recorded the scene, murmuring in awe. 

“Yeh toh Lamborghini hai! Kitni mehengi hogi!” 

("This is a Lamborghini! It must be so expensive!") 

“Dekho, andar kaun hai. Lagta hai koi bada aadmi hai.” 

("Look, who's inside. Must be some big shot.") 

Sharv’s ears picked up their voices faintly, like echoes in a distant tunnel. Rage bubbled within him despite his pain. He tried to move, but his body felt pinned, unresponsive. 

“Idiots,” he thought bitterly, his breath ragged.

But Amidst the indifference, a voice rang out—sharp, panicked, and commanding. 

“Pagal ho gaye ho kya? Uski madad karo, woh abhi bhi andar hai!” 

("Have you all gone mad? Help him! He’s still inside!") 

The voice cut through the crowd's murmurs like a blade, silencing some of the onlookers. The woman’s tone carried a mix of desperation and determination that couldn’t be ignored. 

“Record karna band karo aur madad karo!” she shouted again, her voice trembling but resolute. 

("Stop recording and help!") 

Sharv, even in his semi-conscious state, found his attention drawn to the voice. It wasn’t like the others—detached and greedy. This voice was filled with urgency, care, and something else he couldn’t quite place. 

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his arm—small, trembling, but firm. The scent of something sweet, like jasmine, wafted through the air as the woman leaned into the wrecked car, her hands working to free him. 

“Yeh zyada khoon beh raha hai. Koi ambulance ko bulao!” 

("He's losing too much blood. Someone call an ambulance!") 

Her voice quivered with panic as she struggled to pull him out of the car. 

The woman’s voice didn’t falter as she turned to the crowd again.

“Koi madad karega ya sab sirf dekhte rahenge?”

she snapped, her frustration evident. 

("Is anyone going to help, or will you all just keep watching?") 

Her words seemed to jolt some of the onlookers into action. A man finally stepped forward to call for an ambulance. Others began to move closer, hesitantly offering assistance. 

But the woman stayed by Sharv’s side, her hands trembling as she cradled his head, trying to keep him steady. 

Her hands gripped his arm tighter, pulling with all her strength. Even in his weakened state, Sharv felt the softness of her touch, the care in her movements. He managed to open his eyes just slightly, the effort taking everything he had. 

Through the haze of blood and pain, he saw her face—delicate features, framed by disheveled hair. But it was her eyes that caught him. Wide, hazel, and filled with a mixture of fear and determination. 

Her words floated to him like a distant melody. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound escaped. He felt himself slipping further into unconsciousness, yet her presence anchored him in a way he couldn’t explain. 

“Bas thodi der aur

”

she whispered, pressing a cloth to his wound to stop the bleeding.

("Just hold on a little longer.") 

Her voice softened, almost pleading. Sharv’s mind clung to the sound, the care it held. It was unlike anything he had heard in years. 

“Tum theek ho jaoge,”

she said firmly, her voice shaking only slightly. 

("You’ll be fine.") 

Sharv tried to focus on her face, but his vision blurred. The last thing he saw was the worry etched into her hazel eyes before the darkness consumed him. 

For the first time in years, Sharv—the ruthless, untouchable man who prided himself on his control and apathy—felt something unfamiliar stir

within him. Even as unconsciousness claimed him, the memory of her voice, her touch, and her hazel eyes lingered in the depths of his mind. 

In the middle of chaos, amidst the indifference of a crowd, she had been the only one to care. And even Sharv’s cold, hardened heart couldn’t ignore it.