Page 57 of Drunk On Love

Zero. Nada. Zilch.

She’ll ask me to teach her how to kiss—seriously—and then she’ll make that ridiculously cute pout, the one that makes me forget how mad I was at Justin five minutes ago.

And if that isn’t enough to completely wreck my focus, she’ll start talking, and it takes everything in me—everything—to not pull her into my arms.

But I don’t. Because I have one simple rule. No girls. Not in any form or kind.

I’m a thirty-three-year-old real estate businessman. And for the record, I don’t buy or sell continents, planets, or galaxies, despite what Kiara’s wild imagination keeps insisting.

Tonight is shaping up to be yet another test of my patience and sanity. It’s been nearly two hours sincedrunk Kiaramade her grand entrance, and let’s just say she’s been nothing short of a full-blown hurricane.

First, the chair wasn’t good enough, so the table somehow became her new throne. Averyunsteady throne—and don’t even get me started on her hilarious dance floor performance.

Then there was the karaoke. Rest in peace, karaoke mic. You deserved better. I had to carry her off stage, as her fingers—so soft it was distracting, kept lightly tracing my neck.

And her hair.What is that scent? Vanilla?Whatever it is, it’s enough to drive a man insane.

By the time we got back to the car, I was half-expecting her to pass out from exhaustion.

But no, she was just getting started. She sang—loudly—the entire ride home. And she’s still at it. Non-stop. Not missing a beat.

We’re back home, and she hasn’t quieted down one bit. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, humming some song she clearly doesn’t remember the words to, while I try—try—to act like I’m not two seconds away from losing my mind.

This woman is chaos.

Beautiful, intoxicating chaos.

The singing isn’t the problem. Her smile? Not a problem either. But her fingers gently brushing my neck as she rambles on?Ahugeproblem.

I carefully laid her down on the bed—my bed.She wore a black dress that hugged her body in ways I was desperately trying to ignore. I had to give myself a mental pep talk:Stop. Don’t even think about putting the words ‘body’ and ‘hug’ in the same sentence. You’re better than this.

But tonight? Tonight wasn’t exactly playing out in my favor.

As I gently slipped off her sandals, her eyes fluttered open, and she grabbed my hand. She sat up slowly, still holding my hand. “You need to decide something tonight, Mr. Oberoi.”

I swallowed hard. “What?”

“Either you get to be grumpy or cute… I can't handle two Manavs.”

“Which one do you prefer?” The question slipped out before I could overthink it.

“Ummm…” She tapped her chin, her expression thoughtful. “The grumpy one.”

“Yeah?” I asked, leaning back slightly.

Her head tilted slightly, her breathing already slowing, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep began to claim her.

I stood there for a moment, just watching her. She was unpredictable. Chaotic. But somehow, in this room, under this roof, with her wrapped up in my blanket like she’d always belonged there… It felt right.

I took a step back. This girl had managed to do the impossible—make herself at home in a place I’d always kept locked away, not just physically but emotionally.

I’ve resisted everything in my life—temptations, losses, pressure.

But with her? I’m not sure I’ll win that one.

____________

After a cold shower, I returned to the room to find her still awake, staring at the ceiling as if lost in a labyrinth of her thoughts.