Mumbai Night Collision
Mumbai—a night where neon lights battled shadows.
In the grand ballroom's crystal chandelier glow stood a woman—red gown hugging her body perfectly, diamond necklace gleaming on her neck like a crown. Riya Sharma. Eyes scanning every corner like hunting prey. Every man thought twice before meeting her gaze. Every woman eyed her jealously. This was her kingdom—corporate empire above, underworld below.
Door opened. A man entered. Black suit, sleeves perfectly rolled, confident stride controlled. Arjun Singh. Calm face hiding old pain only he knew. Room's businessmen noticed—new player, ambitious, unproven.
Eyes met. One second. Two seconds. Three. Time froze.
Riya's eyes challenged: This is my game. You're outsider.
Arjun's gaze replied: I'm not losing.
No words. No handshake. Just eye-lock electrifying the room. Riya didn't look away first, but felt inside—this man different. Arjun felt too—this woman dangerous, magnetic.
Ballroom music, laughter, clinking glasses—all background noise. Worlds collided first time. Power. Control. And perhaps... something more.
This is Burning Control—where dominance and surrender blur, trust and betrayal two sides same coin, monsters soften for each other.