Author's pov:-
The sunlight filtered through the large windows of the penthouse, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. Damien stirred, the faint rays brushing against his skin, pulling him from a night of restless sleep. His mind was clouded with thoughts of Aaru, a constant buzz that he couldn't seem to shake. But there was no time for distractions today. His schedule was tight, and the deal with Aarohi was at the top of his list.
He pushed himself out of bed and stretched, his muscles aching slightly from the tension of yesterday's events. A deep breath, and he let the thoughts of betrayal and revenge fade into the back of his mind. Today was about control—about getting what he wanted. He had no room for weakness.
Damien made his way to the bathroom, his movements purposeful. He freshened up quickly, the cold water waking him completely. As the minutes ticked by, his usual composure fell back into place. He was the Russian mafia king, feared and respected. Nothing and no one could distract him from his mission.
He entered his personal gym. The weight of the world felt a little lighter as he worked through his routine—pushing himself harder, as if trying to outrun the unease that lingered beneath the surface. Two hours passed in a blur, sweat pouring down his face as he focused on nothing but the weights and the burn in his muscles.
When he finally finished, his body was spent, but his mind was still restless. He made his way to the shower, the hot water washing away the remnants of fatigue, preparing him for the day ahead.
He got dressed quickly, the sleek black suit clinging perfectly to his tall frame. His dark eyes, intense and unreadable, glanced at his reflection for a moment before he turned and left the room. The morning routine had helped him regain some semblance of focus, but there was still a gnawing feeling that wouldn't fade. The meeting with Aarohi today was important.
As he exited his room, he walked into the dining area, his gaze immediately finding Denis. His younger brother was already seated at the breakfast table, casually flipping through a set of papers. A maid served him a steaming cup of coffee, and the smell of freshly baked croissants filled the air. Damien didn't say anything at first, simply nodding in acknowledgment as he sat across from Denis.
The quiet hum of the kitchen, along with the clink of silverware, seemed distant. Damien's focus was solely on the deal that loomed ahead. They'd discussed the Arora family deal a dozen times, but today was different. Today, Aarohi would be in front of him. And though he had no reason to be nervous, there was a weight to the meeting that made the air feel thick.
"So, you're still set on moving forward with the Arora deal?" Denis asked, his voice cutting through the silence.
Damien's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a tight smile. "Yes. It's time we make our move. I want this over with."
Denis raised an eyebrow, but didn't press further. He knew better than to question Damien's decisions when it came to business. "You'll have it," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Just make sure you keep your head on straight. The Aroras won't make it easy."
Damien nodded, his thoughts already shifting back to the task at hand. "I'm aware. But they'll have no choice."
After a brief exchange about the finer details of the deal, they both stood from the table. Damien didn't waste time. He walked toward the door, signaling for his driver to prepare the car. The tension between him and Denis wasn't as heavy as it had been in the past, but there was something about today that felt different. He could sense it in the air, like something was about to change.
The drive to the office was smooth, the city skyline passing by in a blur. Damien's eyes remained focused ahead, his mind churning over everything—Aarohi, the deal, the spy, and the uncertain feelings he was trying to ignore. But for now, the office came first.
As the car pulled into the parking garage, Damien's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down at the screen—Aarohi had confirmed the meeting. His pulse quickened, though he'd never admit it.
Today, everything would shift.
The sleek black car came to a stop in front of the towering Volkov Enterprises building. The glass facade reflected the morning sun, standing as a beacon of power and authority. Damien Volkov stepped out, his presence commanding as always. His sharp suit and cold gaze sent a ripple of unease through anyone who dared to look his way.
Inside, the atmosphere was no different. Employees bustled about, careful not to cross paths with the man who was both their boss and their worst nightmare. Damien's polished black shoes clicked against the marble floor as he entered the grand lobby. The receptionist at the front desk straightened instantly, her smile wide but trembling as she greeted him.
"Good morning, Mr. Volkov," she said, her voice just barely steady.
Damien acknowledged her with a curt nod, his focus unwavering. But just as he was about to step into his private elevator, a clatter caught his attention. His sharp eyes darted toward the source of the noise. One of the junior employees had dropped a stack of papers in her rush to avoid him.
The fear in her eyes was palpable as she scrambled to pick them up, her hands shaking so badly that the papers scattered further. Damien's cold gaze locked onto her, and the room seemed to freeze.
"Pathetic," he muttered, his voice low but cutting.
The employee stammered, attempting to apologize, but Damien raised a hand to silence her. "If you can't even hold onto a few papers," he said, his tone dripping with disdain, "then you have no place here."
He turned to the receptionist. "Have her escorted out. I don't tolerate incompetence."
The receptionist nodded quickly, not daring to meet his eyes.
Without another glance, Damien entered his private elevator. The doors closed behind him, sealing off the tension he'd left in the lobby. His expression remained as cold and unyielding as ever, but inside, there was a storm brewing. Today was too important to let anyone's carelessness ruin it.
The elevator ascended quickly, taking him to the top floor where his private office awaited. It was a space that mirrored his personality—sleek, modern, and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, while the minimalist design spoke of power and precision.
Damien moved towards his desk, his sharp eyes scanning the neatly organized file that Marcus, his assistant, had placed there earlier. The file contained details about the Arora deal—every clause, figure, and loophole meticulously analyzed. He flipped through the pages, absorbing the information with ease. Every number and detail was a step toward solidifying his dominance.
Minutes turned into an hour as he focused on his task, the ticking clock marking the approach of the moment he'd been waiting for. Finally, Marcus knocked on the door and entered, his expression composed but carrying a hint of urgency.
"Sir, the Arora team has arrived," Marcus announced.
Damien rose from his seat, his movements deliberate and powerful. "Good. Let's not keep them waiting."
He adjusted his cuffs, the polished silver of his cufflinks glinting under the light, and strode toward the conference room. His presence was electrifying as he pushed open the door, his gaze sweeping across the room.
Inside, Denis was already seated, his relaxed demeanor in stark contrast to the tension radiating from the other side of the table. Four individuals rose to greet Damien—a young woman and three men. Damien's sharp eyes locked on her, and he addressed her directly, his deep voice filling the room.
"Hello, Miss Arora," .................
________________________________________________________________________________
HELLO ANGELS I HOPE YOU LIKED THE CHAPTER
THANKYOU ALL🎀