The ballroom's golden glow felt like a fever dream, but Isha's heart beat a steady rhythm of purpose. The music swirled around her, a waltz that carried London's elite in a tide of silk and diamonds, but her eyes kept drifting to the shadowed corner where he had stood. Alex, the man whose name hung in the air like a spell, was nowhere to be seen. Her sapphire gown shimmered as she moved, her chestnut curls catching the chandelier's light, and her bronze skin glowed with a warmth that turned heads. Isha's beauty was a quiet storm, but tonight, it was her courage that burned brightest. She needed Alex to break Vikram's hold, to save Nia, her orphanage sister, from the danger he wielded like a blade.Albert—Raghav to her, though London insisted on his English name—guided her through the dance, his green eyes crinkling with a warmth that felt like home. "You're distracted," he said, his voice low, almost lost in the music. "What's on your mind, Isha?"She forced a smile, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. "Just overwhelmed. This is… a lot." Her fingers brushed the locket at her throat, a silver anchor from her orphanage days, grounding her. She couldn't tell Albert about Vikram, about the threat to Nia's life if she didn't marry him. Not yet. Maybe not ever."You saved my life in Kashmir," Albert said, spinning her gently. "You can handle a fancy party." His suit hugged his broad frame, a far cry from the bloodied uniform she'd seen him in, but his grin was the same—boyish, disarming."Saving you was easier," she teased, her voice light despite the weight in her chest. "No dress code."He laughed, drawing eyes from nearby guests. Isha felt their stares—curious, appraising, some tinged with envy. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her presence, a blend of fire and grace, that made her unforgettable. As the song ended, Albert bowed, ever the gentleman. "Come, let's get you a drink. You've earned it."They wove through the crowd, Isha's gown rustling against her legs, her heels clicking on marble. The ballroom was a spectacle—crystal flutes clinking, perfume mingling with the scent of roses, and laughter sharp as glass. Mayor James and Laura, Albert's parents, held court near a grand staircase, their influence a magnet for London's power players. Isha scanned the room, searching for that elusive figure. Alex was here, she knew it. Whispers about him floated like smoke—"He's untouchable," "Surrounded by guards," "Never stays long." Her plan was reckless: convince him to kidnap her, to stage a scandal that would make Vikram back off. A gold digger, a traitor—Alex could call her anything, as long as Nia was safe.At the bar, Albert handed her a flute of champagne. "To heroes," he toasted, clinking her glass."To surviving," she countered, sipping the bubbly liquid. It did little to calm her nerves. Her eyes darted to the corner again, but the men in black suits were gone. Her stomach twisted. Had Alex left?"Ms. Isha?" A woman's voice, smooth as velvet, interrupted her thoughts. Isha turned to see a figure who seemed to step out of a painting—tall, with silver-blonde hair swept into an elegant updo, and eyes like storm clouds. Her emerald gown shimmered, and a diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, but her beauty was timeless, commanding."Yes?" Isha said, straightening. The woman's gaze lingered on her locket, a flicker of something—recognition?—crossing her face."I'm Elena," she said, extending a gloved hand. "A friend of the family. I heard about your bravery in Kashmir. Remarkable."Isha shook her hand, warmth spreading at the compliment. "Thank you. I just did what anyone would."Elena's smile was enigmatic. "Not anyone. You're special, Isha. That locket… it's lovely. A family heirloom?"Isha's fingers grazed the silver pendant, her heart skipping. "No family, I'm afraid. Just something from my orphanage days."Elena's eyes softened, but before she could speak, Albert cut in. "Elena, stealing my guest already?" he teased, though his tone held respect."Merely admiring her," Elena said, her gaze still on Isha. "We'll talk again, my dear." She glided away, leaving Isha with a strange ache in her chest. There was something familiar about Elena, but she couldn't place it."Old family friend," Albert explained, sipping his drink. "Rich as sin, heart of gold. Don't let her intensity scare you."Isha forced a laugh, but her mind was elsewhere. She needed to find Alex. "Albert, is there… a guest list? Someone important here tonight?"He raised an eyebrow. "Looking for royalty? Half the room qualifies."She hesitated, then leaned in, lowering her voice. "I heard about someone named Alex. Powerful, maybe… dangerous?"Albert's grin faded, his eyes narrowing. "Alex Shekhawat? Why do you want to meet him?"Her pulse quickened. "Just curious. People talk."He studied her, then sighed. "Alex is… a force. Not your typical party guest. He's here, but good luck getting near him. His security's tighter than Fort Knox. Why the interest?"Isha shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Heard he solves problems."Albert's jaw tightened, but he didn't press. "Be careful what you wish for, Isha. Come on, let's mingle."As they moved through the crowd, Isha's heart pounded. Alex was real, and he was here. She caught glimpses of those men in black suits again, stationed near a set of glass doors leading to a garden. Her breath hitched. That's where he'd be—away from the crowd, untouchable. She needed to get there, but Albert's arm was linked with hers, and guests kept stopping them, eager to meet the "Kashmir heroine."Her beauty drew them like moths—men with slick smiles, women with appraising glances. Isha navigated their questions with charm, her event planner instincts kicking in, but her mind was on those doors. Vikram's threat loomed like a storm cloud. "Marry me, or Nia's life is over." Nia, with her fierce spirit and haunted eyes, was all the family Isha had. She'd built Starlit Moments from nothing, but no amount of success could shield Nia from Vikram's reach. This party was her only shot."Excuse me," she murmured to Albert, slipping away as he was drawn into a conversation with a diplomat. Her gown swished as she moved, her curls bouncing, drawing eyes she ignored. She reached the glass doors, her hand trembling as she pushed them open. The night air was crisp, scented with jasmine and earth, and the garden stretched before her—a maze of roses and lanterns, shadows dancing in the moonlight.She stepped onto the stone path, her heels sinking slightly into the earth. The noise of the party faded, replaced by the rustle of leaves and her own heartbeat. "Alex," she whispered, testing the name. If she could find him, plead her case, maybe he'd understand. A staged kidnapping, a lie to disgrace her—it was madness, but it was all she had.A rustle in the bushes made her freeze. "Who's there?" she called, her voice steady despite her nerves.No answer, but the shadows shifted. Her locket felt heavy, a reminder of the stakes. She moved deeper into the garden, drawn to a stone bench beneath a willow tree, its branches swaying like a curtain. She sank onto it, her gown pooling around her, and buried her face in her hands. The weight of it all—Kashmir, Vikram, Nia, this impossible plan—pressed down, stealing her breath."Rough night?" a voice said, low and smooth, like whiskey over ice.Isha's head snapped up. A man stood a few paces away, half-hidden by the willow's veil. He was tall, his silhouette sharp in a tailored tuxedo, dark hair catching the lantern's glow. His face was in shadow, but his presence was electric, commanding the air around him. Her skin prickled. Was this…?"I'm fine," she said, rising, her voice firm. Her beauty shone even in the dim light, her bronze skin luminous, curls framing her face like a halo. "Just needed air."He stepped closer, still cloaked in shadow, but she caught a glimpse of sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass. "This garden's good for that," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "But it's not safe to wander alone.""I can handle myself," she replied, chin lifting. Her eyes, dark and fierce, met his shadowed gaze. "Who are you?"A pause, heavy with unspoken things. "Just another guest," he said, his voice carrying a hint of a smile. "And you? You're not from here.""Isha," she said, hesitating. "Here for… reasons."He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Reasons, huh? Sounds complicated.""You have no idea," she muttered, her guard slipping. Something about him felt safe, yet dangerous, like a storm on the horizon. "I'm looking for someone. Someone who can… fix things.""Careful what you wish for," he said, stepping back into the shadows. "Fixers come with a price."Before she could respond, footsteps crunched on the path. "Isha?" Albert's voice broke the spell. The man vanished into the darkness, leaving only the rustle of leaves. Her heart raced. Had that been Alex? Or just a stranger playing games?"There you are," Albert said, appearing at the bench, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing.""Needed a moment," she said, forcing a smile, her mind reeling. "Let's go back."As they returned to the ballroom, Isha's eyes scanned the garden's edge, but the man was gone. Her locket burned against her skin, a reminder of Nia, of Vikram, of the fight ahead. Somewhere in this glittering world, Alex Shekhawat held the key. And she'd find him, no matter the cost.
