The first thing Rohit did after stepping into the corridor was check the time on his new phone. Barely twelve minutes had passed since he went in.
"The hell… why did she say fifteen minutes?" he thought.
Then a sinister answer crept into his mind, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the possibility. Maybe Ragini was embarrassed to admit she had finished within ten minutes, while he had managed to last through his first session with her for over two hours.
A subtle pride swelled in his chest before his mind drifted to more pressing matters.
He dialed Secretary Pathak. Chanu was still a trained woman and sharp enough to notice things that would be hard for him to explain—better to avoid that risk.
"Hello, Mr. Pathak."
A cheerful voice came from the other end.
"Hello, young master. Your urgent call over?"
Rohit pressed at his temple. That overeager enthusiasm always made him wary of trusting Pathak with anything too delicate. Still, he was reliable enough in his role, so Rohit played along casually.
"Well, yes. But I'm a bit exhausted. Wasn't there a suit arranged for me beforehand to take care of my needs?"
"Oh, that one? Yes, young master. It's Room Six on the thirtieth floor. Should I send someone with the keys, or come myself?"
"No need. Just send them directly to the room. I'll collect the keys there."
"As you wish. Anything else you need, young master?"
The repeated 'young master... this', 'young master... that' made Rohit cringe inside, but he swallowed his thoughts.
Thinking of his position, he asked about the auction's progress. Pathak reassured him: they had secured tenders for two major contracts and five subcontracts. The Goenka and Mittal families had managed to snatch one major and five subcontracts.
Right now, bidding was still ongoing for the remaining five.
Personally, Rohit had little interest in whether the Singhanias truly won more projects or not. Even now, he had only asked for form's sake. Still, knowing his family was doing well left him with a quiet pride and satisfaction.
He then asked about his mother, but Pathak admitted that after their last contact, she had been too busy to respond further.
Rohit smirked. He knew exactly why she would be busy.'
Pathak also reminded him of the mandatory rooftop dinner for all guests at 9:30. Best to be ready.
Rohit assured him of his presence, then ended the call. He moved toward the lift and pressed the button for the 30th floor.
The doors opened with a metallic clank, and he stepped out.
The corridor was eerily empty. For such a grand hotel, the silence felt unsettling—almost unnatural for a day of such events.
He checked the door numbers as he walked. The sequence began from the corner: one, then two opposite it, then three… until he found himself standing before room nine.
Wait a minute… where's number six?
The numbering didn't add up. Opposite room nine, the plate was missing altogether. Confused, he paused, but before he could think further, the lift clanked open again. A man in a waiter's uniform stepped out.
The man looked uncertain. "Young master Rohit Singhania?" Clearly, it was his first time meeting him.
Rohit nodded and, to save time, handed over a business card his family had provided.
The waiter exhaled in relief, bowed, and respectfully held out a key. "Room Six, young master."
Rohit frowned, pointing at the door. "But that says Nine."
The waiter clicked his tongue and lowered his head apologetically. "We're sorry for the inconvenience, young master. That's not room nine, but six. During the recent renovations, the plate came loose and was mistakenly swapped. We didn't expect it to go unreported. Normally, we'd keep it out of service. Please forgive us."
Rohit leaned closer, examining carefully. Indeed, the alignment felt slightly off. The explanation made sense now—why the opposite door had no plate and how he had misjudged his own room.
'So much for a high-end hotel,' he thought, but said nothing. The man was already sweating, clearly nervous about being blamed for something beyond his control. Best not to put him in a tighter spot.
"Relax. No need to bother," Rohit said casually, taking the keys and thanking the waiter without another glance as he stepped inside.
Whatever complaints he had vanished instantly. The suite was luxurious, easily big enough to host a birthday party with his little gang— dancing with hot girls, music and all..
The furnishings included a large bed, wardrobe, two pairs of chairs with a table, a sofa facing a massive LED TV, and an air conditioner mounted above.
Glass doors opened onto a balcony, where city lights stretched endlessly across the horizon.
The view was spectacular.
Rohit collapsed onto the fluffy bed, letting himself enjoy a brief moment of respite. The day had been long, and as he thought back on everything that had happened, a weary sigh escaped his lips.
Yet a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered his progress with Ragini—her flushed face, her beautiful eyes, the way she tried to hide her face. The memory made his heart flutter.
Instinctively, he raised his hand to his nose. The faint scent of her love juice still lingered on his fingers, and he moaned softly, "Ahhh—" His shaft throbbed again at the thought.
It was a pity he hadn't gone down on her when he had the chance. Just imagining the taste made him lick his fingers, a flicker of regret rushing through him. His pants tightened unbearably, his frustration breaking out in a muttered, "Guess I need another shower... third time today."
With deliberate care, he loosened his clothes and placed them neatly on the bed—he might need them again later. Then he stepped into the bathroom.
The space was clean and spacious, even more luxurious than his own. Winter's chill lingered in the air, and the cold water made him hiss at first, but soon it numbed his arousal and washed away the clinging exhaustion.
By the time he stepped out wrapped in a towel, he felt refreshed, almost rejuvenated.
He picked up his new Samsung phone, noting that he still had fifteen minutes on his watch.
Stepping out onto the balcony, he leaned against the railing to catch the night breeze. A narrow ledge, just wide enough for the maintenance crew to fix harnesses, ran along the façade between the balconies—never meant for casual use, yet it gave the unnerving sense that one could step across.
He opened his wastapp. Seo-yeon had bombarded him.
'She's really missing me after just one meeting,' Rohit thought with a grin.
Scrolling through, he saw her stream of updates—first, checking if he'd reached home, then pictures of her pink-themed room: a huge teddy bear, posters of Goku and other muscular anime characters, even her pet rabbit.
She wore a bunny headband in some selfies. As the messages went on, her frustration surfaced; she accused him of ignoring her and capped it off with a pouting GIF.
Rohit chuckled. 'Acting like a girlfriend already, when we're just friends.' Still, he knew silence would backfire on him. So he quickly reacted to her messages and replied:
"Sorry, I'm still out with my mom. Might be grounded." He added a skeleton danger GIF for effect, and after a pause, mentioned looking forward to their "linguistic classes," and tried to search for a fitting meme to send.
Before he could, the doorbell rang.
Suspicion pricked at him. 'Who the hell at this hour?'
Opening the door, he found a young, confused waiter holding a bottle of champagne. "Akansha Mittal?" the boy asked, peering past Rohit as if searching for a woman inside.
A man in a professional suit appeared behind him. "Excuse me, I think there's a mistake. Isn't that for room nine?"
The waiter flushed, checked the card, and stammered an apology. Clearly, he had no idea what was going on.
Rohit stepped in smoothly. "The screw's loose. It's Room six, that's his delivery."
Both men smiled in recognition, thanked him, and moved on. The waiter apologized again before handing the bottle over.
As Rohit turned back inside, the clank of the elevator froze him. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Mr. Goenka—the father of Ishita—with two men in tow. Guards.
Instinctively, Rohit ducked back inside and peered through a gap as they passed. A moment later, he risked a glance outside. The two guards were staring straight at him.
"Fuck," he cursed inwardly. They're bodyguards.
Thinking fast, he raised his phone. "Tower's not working," he explained casually. One guard glared coldly, but the other offered a small nod that eased the tension. Rohit flashed a smile and retreated.
Still, alarm bells rang in his head. Akansha Mittal—the name struck him like lightning. She was Jayesh Mittal's stepmother, the woman his father had married three years ago after his mother's accident.
He had never met her in person, only heard of her beauty and her youth. And now, seeing another man slip into her room with champagne in hand—it was obvious this wasn't innocent.
A wicked grin spread across Rohit's face. This was a golden chance to dig up dirt on his rival. But how? The guards outside made it impossible.
A soft breeze brushed his skin, tugging at the curtain that flowed across the balcony. His gaze followed it outward, to the dizzying view below. An insane idea sparked in his mind.
"Thirty floors up…" he whispered, almost laughing at his own madness. "Would it be worth it?"