05

--※※--The Collision--※※--

Author's POV

The Malhotra Gala was the kind of event that made headlines before it even began. An evening of opulence where Mumbai's elite gathered under a single roof, cloaked in the finest silks and sharpest tuxedos, their conversations laced with unspoken rivalries and calculated alliances.

The grand ballroom of the Salian estate shimmered under the golden glow of crystal chandeliers, a sea of power and wealth moving in perfect rhythm to the soft strains of a live orchestra. Servers weaved through the crowd, silver trays balancing glasses of aged wine and hors d'oeuvres (an appetizer) too delicate to be eaten in more than a single bite.

At the center of it all, Raghav Malhotra stood like a monarch surveying his empire.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, he exuded the effortless authority that came with being The Raghav Malhotra—billionaire industrialist, ruthless businessman, and the man at the heart of every whispered conversation in the room. His jaw was set, his gaze sharp as he acknowledged the greetings of his guests with a curt nod or a measured smile, his presence commanding without needing words.

But tonight, he wasn't here for pleasantries.

Tonight, he was here because of an unpleasant development he had been made aware of earlier that day.

_________________________________________________________

Earlier That Day – Study Room.

Raghav leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming impatiently on the carved mahogany armrest. His mother, Anjali, stood by the desk, a thick file in her hands, her expression both firm and expectant.

"I've already appointed the new auditors," she said, handing the folder to him. "They'll be present at the gala tonight. I thought you should know."

Raghav took the file, his expression unreadable as he flipped it open. His eyes scanned the first few pages, detailing the company S&M Consultations, one of the most reputable auditing and consulting firms in Mumbai. His jaw tightened slightly as he turned to the profiles of the lead auditors.

And then his gaze settled on one name and photograph .

Gauri Deshmukh.

His eyes judgemental.

"You're bringing in an outsider to dissect my company? I mean I know few of the other senior consultants but she...is new I guess" His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

Anjali's gaze didn't waver. "I'm bringing in professionals to ensure transparency."

Raghav let out a slow breath, his grip on the file tightening. This wasn't just about an audit. It was about control. And his mother—perceptive, sharp as ever—had taken it upon herself to make a move he wasn't particularly pleased with.

"I'll handle it," he said, closing the file and placing it on the desk.

Anjali's expression softened, but only slightly. "I trust you, Raghav. But I need you to know who you're dealing with and whom I have invited before you dismiss them outright."

She reached forward, flipping the file open again and tapping on Gauri's profile.

"She's good. Top of her field. Known for being meticulous, incorruptible. I've read her previous reports—she doesn't play politics, doesn't get swayed by power. If there's anyone who can do this job right, it's her."

Raghav's lips pressed into a thin line. He took in the neatly printed biography—Gauri Deshmukh, senior consultant, S&M Consultations. Graduated with distinction, CS, MBA, Led multiple high-profile corporate audits. Known for her sharp, no-nonsense approach.

There was also a photograph—a candid one, likely from a corporate event. She was dressed in a navy-blue saree, speaking to a group of executives, her posture straight, her expression serious. Her gaze held a quiet intensity, as if she was always three steps ahead in a conversation.

She wasn't just another auditor.

She was someone who would challenge him.

"Raghav," Anjali said, softer this time. "This is happening, whether you like it or not. And if you're going to face her and other members, you need to be prepared and co-operative, it's for our company's betterment and they are professionals helping us."

Raghav exhaled sharply, closing the file with a decisive snap.

He didn't like being scrutinized.

And now, for the first time, he knew that he was going to get scrutinized and questioned and an outsider is going to enter in his empire, his world.

_________________________________________________________

Gauri's POV 

I had attended corporate events before, but nothing quite like this.

The moment I stepped into the ballroom, I felt the weight of a hundred scrutinizing gazes, silent assessments measuring my worth before a single word had been exchanged. This wasn't just a social gathering—it was a battlefield draped in silk and diamonds.

Dressed in an emerald-green saree with delicate gold embroidery, I knew I didn't blend in. And I didn't care to.

"Try to enjoy yourself," Rohan, one of my colleagues, muttered beside me. "You look like you're walking into a war zone."

I shot him a dry look. "That's because I am."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his champagne. "Come on, Gauri. It's a gala, not an interrogation room. Have a drink, make some small talk, pretend we belong here."

But I wasn't here for pleasantries.

I was here to assess the people behind the empire I was about to audit.

And that meant starting with Raghav Malhotra.

I spotted him across the room instantly.

Not because he demanded attention in the way men often did—with loud voices and exaggerated movements—but because he didn't. He stood apart from the crowd, tall and composed, his presence like gravity itself—silent, undeniable, inescapable. The dim, golden glow of the chandeliers carved sharp lines across his face, accentuating the quiet authority in his stance, the unshakable calm in the way he listened.

His posture was effortless yet deliberate, as though he was aware of every glance thrown his way but chose to ignore them. He was engaged in conversation with an older gentleman, nodding at something the man said, but there was an absence in his expression—like he wasn't truly present, like his mind was elsewhere, calculating, waiting.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, his gaze lifted—and met mine.

A slow, deliberate collision.

My breath caught.

For a second, neither of us moved. The room shrank, the noise around us dulling into a meaningless hum. His eyes, deep and unreadable, flickered with something fleeting—recognition? Amusement? Appraisal? I couldn't tell. But there was weight in the way he looked at me, as if he already knew something I didn't. As if he had been expecting this moment.

And then, something shifted.

His eyes darkened, his expression cooling into something dangerously unreadable, and a realization settled in my chest with a force that almost knocked the air from my lungs.

He already knew who I was.

Not just as a stranger across a room, not as someone he'd just noticed. No.

He had been aware of me before I had been aware of him.

And whatever that meant, whatever lay unspoken between us, I knew one thing for certain, that I am in for a long adventure.

_________________________________________________________

Raghav's POV

She was impossible to miss.

In a room filled with polished elegance, Gauri Deshmukh stood out—not because of her beauty, though it was undeniable, but because she wasn't trying to belong.

There was no hesitation in her stance, no awe in her expression as she took in the grandeur of the estate. She was studying, analyzing—assessing me.

A slow burn of irritation flickered in my chest.

I didn't like being examined.

I didn't like the idea that an outsider had been given access to the very veins of my company, that she would be poring over my business, my people, my empire.

I drained the rest of my whiskey and made my way toward her.

If she wanted to study me, she could do it up close like very close.

_________________________________________________________

Author's POV

The collision was inevitable.

Gauri turned just as Raghav reached her, and for a moment, the world around them dimmed.

Not in the poetic, romantic way of stories, but in the sharp-edged, charged way of impending war. It was like power meeting defiance, ice colliding with fire—both unyielding, both refusing to be consumed.

His presence was commanding, a force that made lesser men falter, but Gauri Deshmukh was not one of them. She met his gaze directly, her spine straight, her expression smooth—unshaken, unimpressed.

"Mr. Malhotra." Her voice was professional, precise. Not a hint of hesitation.

His lips curved, slow and deliberate, into something that wasn't quite a smile—more of a silent calculation. The kind that made people second-guess themselves.

"Miss Deshmukh." His voice was deceptively casual, rich with something dangerous beneath the surface. "I see my company has become your latest subject of interest."

She tilted her head slightly, as if unfazed, as if this game of power did not concern her in the slightest. "Hardly. I'm here to do a job."

He let out a quiet, amused hum. "A job that involves dissecting my company's finances and questioning my people."

Her gaze didn't waver. "If there's nothing to hide," she said evenly, "then there shouldn't be a problem."

Something flickered in his eyes. It was subtle—so subtle that most people would've missed it. But she didn't.

He was studying her. Assessing. Calculating every move, every word.

Raghav Malhotra was used to control. Used to people measuring their responses around him, adjusting themselves to accommodate his presence. But she didn't.

And that was both infuriating and... intriguing.

He took a step closer, not enough to be improper, but enough that she could feel the weight of his presence, the quiet dominance in the way he carried himself.

"You don't belong in this world, Miss Deshmukh," he murmured, his voice a quiet warning, silk wrapped around steel. "Be careful not to get caught in something you don't understand."

The words should have been a threat. But it wasn't just that. It was something else—something that almost felt like a challenge.

Gauri refused to be unsettled. She held her ground, her chin lifting just slightly, her voice calm but unwavering.

"With all due respect, Mr. Malhotra," she said, each word precise, "I don't need to belong. I just need to do my job."

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The air between them was sharp, crackling with unspoken words, unacknowledged tensions. The kind of tension that was dangerous. The kind that could turn into something else entirely if one of them let it.

And just like that, the battle line was drawn.

Neither willing to step back. Neither willing to lose.

And both knowing, instinctively, that whatever this was—this clash of wills, this undercurrent of something unspoken—it had only just begun.

_________________________________________________________

From across the room, beneath the shadow of an intricately carved balcony, someone watched.

Glass in hand, his posture deceptively relaxed, he observed the exchange with quiet amusement.

Raghav Malhotra  and Gauri Deshmukh.

Now that was an interesting equation.

Aditya didn't believe in coincidences. And the way these two moved—like opposing forces on the same chessboard—made him certain of one thing.

This was going to be fun.

He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes gleaming with intrigue.

Let the games begin.