Page 42 of Drunk On Love

His smirk faltered for just a moment, his blue eyes searching mine. “Maybe… some complications are worth it.”

I downed the whiskey in one gulp, hoping it would silence the storm inside me. “I cut Roy’s hair once while he was sleeping, and he looked like a crow.”

“Did he kill you afterward?”

“Oh, he was furious! He had an important meeting the next day. I think he wore a hat for a week straight.”

“Remind me never to fall asleep around you.”

10 ♥?Manav

This girl? Total hazard zone.

Her smile? I can't handle it.

Those eyes? They'll wreck your sanity.

And her outfit tonight? Seriously, what sorcery is this? I'm way out of my depth here…

“Your turn,” her slightly tipsy voice yanked me back from the brink.

Her black saree clung to her like it had been tailor-made by the gods, the luxurious fabric perfectly complementing her radiant skin and accentuating every graceful curve. Her hair spilled over one shoulder in effortless waves.

The elegance of her collarbones peeked out just beneath the saree’s drape as if daring the world to look closer. But beneath all that magnetic beauty, there was a quiet vulnerability in her eyes—a fragile softness that only made her more intoxicating. She wasn’t just stunning; she was a masterpiece that made my chest tighten just by being in the same room.

“I still have the engagement ring,” she laughed, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

I hated the way she smiled when she was sad. I hated it because I knew exactly what that felt like.

“Let’s go. You’re not drinking anymore,” I said, firmly taking the glass from her hand.

“Come on, Mr. Oberoi,” she grabbed a glass in one hand and pulled me up with the other. We walked outside, leaving the noise and laughter of the party behind us.

“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing around.

“To your place… I need a break from this crowd,” she started leading us toward my cottage. I followed, not sure whether to argue or simply let her have this moment of peace.

When I came back with two glasses of water, she was already raiding my cabinet.

“Kiara, what are you doing?”

“Grab a bottle for yourself. It's party night.” Her grin turned playful. “Honestly? First time I saw you shirtless, I thought, maybe my brother is gay.”

“Uhhhhh… he’s not,” I groaned, running a hand through my hair.

She stared at me for a moment, her playful smirk fading into something more serious. Then, leaning in close—so close I could feel her breath against my ear—she whispered, “I don’t know how to kiss.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her. “Wait, aren’t you a romance writer?”

She laughed, the sound low and melodic. “Iama romance writer, I can write about them beautifully.” She casually rested her head on my shoulder. “There was a boy in high school… He kissed me once but… I don’t know… There was no fluttering in my heart… no curling of toes… no butterflies… just two sets of lips crashing with baseless efforts.”

Her breath against my neck felt like it might undo me. My pulse raced, but I held on, trying to project calm even though I was wrestling with my thoughts and heartbeat.

“You should get some rest. You’ve had enough for tonight.”

She tilted her head up, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. “Have you ever kissed someone, Mr. Oberoi?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” It was like every defense I had was crumbling in real-time.