POV
Hotel Meridian. Room 407.
I stared at the message for a long time.
A hotel room.
This wasn't a café. This wasn't a parking lot. This wasn't an accident.
This was a decision.
My heart pounded as I stood outside the door.
I could still turn back.
I could still leave.
Instead, I knocked.
The door opened immediately.
He had been waiting.
"You came," he said quietly.
Like he never doubted I would.
The door shut behind me.
The click of the lock sounded final.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"I'm not."
He stepped closer.
I stepped back.
Until my back touched the wall.
"You trust me, right?" he asked softly.
That question again.
Always that question.
"Yes."
"Then don't look like you're about to run."
His fingers brushed my wrist.
Slow.
Testing.
My breath hitched.
He didn't rush.
That was the worst part.
He moved like he had all the time in the world.
Like he knew I wasn't leaving.
His hand slid to my waist.
Firm.
Confident.
"Look at me," he murmured.
I did.
His eyes weren't soft.
They were focused.
Hungry.
Possessive.
"You chose me," he said quietly.
"I did."
"Then stop hesitating."
He tilted my chin upward.
His lips hovered close enough for me to feel his breath.
"Say it."
"I'm yours," I whispered.
A slow smile.
"That's what I like to hear."
His kiss wasn't rushed.
It was consuming.
Deep.
Demanding.
Like he wasn't asking for permission anymore.
His hands moved with certainty.
Not exploring.
Claiming.
The world narrowed.
The room blurred.
There was no outside.
No family.
No Adray.
No protection.
Only him.
And the way he held me like something he owned.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine.
"You're so easy to read," he murmured.
I didn't understand what he meant.
But I liked the way he said it.
Like I was something precious.
Later, the room was quieter.
The air heavier.
I lay beside him, my heartbeat still racing.
I felt different.
Not innocent.
Not untouched.
Connected.
Bound.
He traced his fingers lazily along my arm.
"You know," he said casually, "this is what trust looks like."
"Yes," I whispered.
He turned his head slightly, studying me.
"You wouldn't leave me now, right?"
"No."
"Even if things get difficult?"
"I won't."
He smiled faintly.
"Good."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"I'm in a little trouble again."
The shift was smooth.
Too smooth.
"What kind of trouble?" I asked softly.
"Just financial pressure. Temporary."
I didn't respond.
He propped himself up on one elbow.
"You trust me, right?"
"Yes."
"Then help me."
There it was.
The real reason for Room 407.
"How much?" I whispered.
"Three lakhs. Just to manage something urgent."
My chest tightened.
Three lakhs.
After tonight.
After crossing every line.
Refusing now would feel like betrayal.
Like I was undoing everything.
"I'll arrange it," I said.
His eyes softened immediately.
He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"That's why I love you."
Love.
Again.
He only says it when I give.
I didn't notice the pattern.
I only noticed the warmth.
The approval.
The way he held me like I belonged there.
What I didn't know—
Was that I had just given him everything.
My body.
My loyalty.
My silence.
And now—
My money.
Room 407 wasn't romance.
It was leverage.
And I had walked into it willingly.
This was no longer love.
This was control.
And I was already too deep to see it.