The minibar glowed amber and gold, bottles lined up like soldiers waiting for orders. Ravi set the paper bag down on the low table with a thud that was almost—almost—casual. The crinkle of it seemed louder than it should have been in the quiet of the suite. I watched his hand linger on the bag for half a second too long before he pulled away.

He shared a glance with Vikram. Quick. Loaded. The kind of look men think women don't catch.

I caught it.

The suite was all marble and glass, the Delhi skyline smogging into dusk beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The air conditioner hummed low, a constant white noise beneath the distant murmur of traffic. Vikram had poured drinks the moment we'd walked in—whiskey for himself and Arjun, something lighter for Suresh, a white wine for me that tasted expensive and cold.

I lifted the glass to my lips, let the cool rim rest against them, and took a slow sip. The wine was dry, crisp, with a bite at the end. I let the silence stretch, the way I'd learned to do. Let them wonder what I was thinking. Let them fill the space with their own nerves.

Arjun had positioned himself on the armchair near the window, his eyes already drifting to my chest again. He wasn't subtle about it—hadn't been since the coffee shop. I let my pallu slip a little, just enough to give him something to look at. His jaw tightened. Good.

Suresh sat at the edge of the bed, quiet, his glasses catching the light. He was the one I watched most carefully. The quiet ones always saw more than they let on.

"So," I said, setting the glass down on the table beside the paper bag. My fingers brushed the edge of it. The crinkle of paper was loud in the hush. "What's this?"

My voice was light, curious, the voice of a woman who had noticed something she wasn't supposed to. Ravi's eyes flickered—just for a moment—before he covered it with a grin.

"Oh, that?" He waved a hand, dismissive. "Just some—supplies. For later."

"Supplies," I repeated, letting the word hang. I turned the bag toward me, my fingers finding the opening. The paper crinkled again, crisp and deliberate, and I could feel the weight of four men's attention on my hands.

Vikram shifted his weight on the bed. Arjun leaned forward slightly in his chair. Suresh didn't move at all, but I saw his fingers tighten around his glass.

I pulled out the box.

Condoms. A whole box of them, the label bright and unmistakable. The camera pin on my pallu caught the light, and I angled the box toward it, just slightly, so Rohan would see. So he'd know what I was holding, what they'd brought, what they thought they were buying.

The room went still.

I let my smile turn knowing, slow, the kind of smile that said I understood exactly what they were planning and I wasn't offended—I was amused.

"Boys," I said, setting the box back down on the table with a soft click. "You're going to need more than that."

The silence that followed was delicious.

Ravi's grin froze on his face. Arjun's mouth actually fell open for a second before he caught himself. Suresh's glass stopped halfway to his lips. And Vikram—Vikram's eyes darkened, a new kind of interest flickering behind them.

I let the moment stretch, enjoying the weight of it, the way the power in the room had shifted without a single dramatic gesture. One sentence, and I'd turned their little plan inside out.

"More?" Ravi finally managed, his voice cracking just slightly. "You mean—"

"I mean," I said, reaching for my wine again, taking another slow sip, "that you brought one box for four men. That's not confidence. That's optimism."

Arjun laughed—a short, surprised bark of a sound. "She's got a point."

"She's got more than a point," Vikram said, his voice low, appreciative. He was looking at me differently now. Not like a prize to be won—like a game he hadn't realized he was playing.

I set the glass down again, letting my fingers trace the rim. The wine had left a faint crescent of red on the glass, and I watched it for a moment before looking up at them through my lashes.

"The bag was a nice touch, though," I said, directing the words at Ravi. "The way you hid it? Like I wouldn't notice. Like I didn't see you come out of that pharmacy with a grin on your face."

Ravi's cheeks flushed. "I wasn't trying to—"

"You were," I said, and my voice was soft, almost kind. "And it worked. I noticed. I was meant to notice." I let the pause stretch. "But you forgot one thing."

"What's that?" Vikram asked.

I looked at him directly, holding his gaze. "I'm not a woman who needs to be convinced. I'm a woman who needs to be impressed."

The words landed like stones in still water.

Arjun let out a low whistle. Suresh finally took a sip of his drink, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. Ravi was still recovering, his grin now more nervous than confident.

Vikram stood up slowly, crossing the room toward me with the easy confidence of a man who had spent decades learning how to move in a room. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something woody and expensive—and looked down at me with those hazel eyes.

"Impressed," he repeated, tasting the word. "And what would impress you?"

I didn't look away. "I'll let you know when it happens."

He smiled, and it was a real smile, not the practiced one he'd worn on the metro. "Challenge accepted."

He turned back to the others, clapping his hands together. "Alright, gentlemen. The lady has set the bar. Let's not disappoint her."

Ravi laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I'll call down for more supplies."

"You'll do no such thing," I said, and his hand froze on his phone. "Not yet. I haven't decided if you've earned it."

The room went quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet now. Charged. Expectant. Four men, all of them suddenly very aware that they weren't in control of this evening—I was.

I picked up the condom box again, turning it over in my hands, letting the weight of it settle. The label caught the light, and I angled it toward the camera pin on my pallu once more, a little gift for Rohan, who I knew was watching, who I knew was loving every second of this.

"But I will say," I added, setting the box back down, "it's nice to know you were thinking ahead. Most men don't."

"Most men haven't met anyone like you," Vikram said.

"No," I agreed, and I let my smile turn just a little wicked. "They haven't."

I reached for my wine again, and this time, no one moved. They just watched me, four men caught in the orbit of a woman who had them exactly where she wanted them.

And somewhere outside, in the shadows of the hotel driveway, I knew Rohan was watching too. I could feel his eyes on me through the camera, the weight of his attention, the thrill of his fantasy unfolding in real time.

This was for him. All of it. Every word, every glance, every moment of these men believing they were winning me—it was all for him.

I took another sip of wine, let the cool liquid slide down my throat, and smiled at the four men who had no idea what they were really part of.

"So," I said, setting the glass down once more, my fingers resting on the edge of the paper bag. "Tell me about yourselves."

It was a simple invitation, but I watched the way they all straightened, the way they all suddenly wanted to impress me. Ravi launched into a story about his business, his voice loud and boastful. Arjun cut in with a joke. Suresh added a dry comment that made me laugh. And Vikram—Vikram watched me the whole time, his eyes never leaving my face, like he was trying to figure me out.

He wouldn't. Not tonight. Not ever.

The night stretched ahead of us, full of possibility and promises I had no intention of keeping. But for now, I let them talk, let them believe they were winning me over, let them think this was their game.

It wasn't.

It was mine.