The Test of Worth

The blue-and-white box sat heavy in my palm. ULTRA, the bold letters read, and beneath that, a strip of foil promise. I turned it over, feeling the lacquered edges cool against my skin, the weight of it absurdly small for everything these four men had stacked on top of it.

"You said challenge accepted." My voice came soft, measured, the way I'd learned to speak when I wanted a room to lean in. I didn't look up from the box. "So tell me, Vikram. What is it I actually want from tonight?"

The room went still around the question. I could feel it land—the shift from flirtation to something that asked for a real answer. The brass lamp pooled its light on the teak table, catching the amber glint of two whiskey tumblers, and I watched Vikram's hazel eyes flicker, calculating, running through the possibilities like a man counting cards.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. The muscle in his jaw twitched once, twice, and I saw the exact moment he understood this wasn't about sex. Not yet. Not first.

Suresh let out a low, dry laugh from somewhere behind me, a sound like paper tearing. "He's stuck," he said, almost to himself. "She asked him a real question and he's stuck."

Arjun's knees pressed into the carpet behind me, his hands loose at his sides. I could feel the heat of his body at my back, the weight of his stillness, the way he'd dropped to the floor when I'd nodded and hadn't risen since. Waiting. He was good at that, I'd learned. Waiting for a command.

"It's not a trick question," I said, and I angled the box toward the camera pin on my pallu, letting Rohan see Vikram's face as he struggled. The tiny red light blinked, a heartbeat of transmission, and I imagined my lover somewhere outside, breath held, watching this man squirm. "Unless you don't actually know."

Vikram's jaw tightened. He reached for his tumbler, and I noticed the faint tremor in his hand—barely there, the kind of thing a man like him spent years learning to hide. He took a slow sip of whiskey, buying time, and when he set the glass down it clicked against the lacquered table with more force than he'd intended.

"You want to be wanted," he said finally, and the words came out like he was testing them, seeing how they sounded in the air.

"That's what every woman wants," I said, letting a thread of amusement curl through my voice. "Try again."

Suresh shifted his weight against the wall, and I heard the soft creak of his weight settling. Ravi, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet since the kiss, cleared his throat from the armchair, his potbelly straining against his casual shirt as he leaned forward.

"She wants control," Ravi offered, and there was something almost earnest in his voice. "She's been running this whole evening. She wants us to know it."

I considered that. Turned it over. It was closer, but it wasn't right.

"Control is a means," I said, setting the box down on the table with a deliberate click. "Not an end."

Arjun shifted behind me, and I felt his fingers brush the hem of my saree—not grabbing, not pulling. Just touching, like he needed the contact to ground himself. I let him.

"You want to be seen," Vikram said, and this time his voice was steadier, like he'd found his footing on a path he hadn't known was there. "Not just looked at. Seen. You want us to understand what you are, what you're offering, and you want us to want it anyway."

I turned to look at him properly then, and the room held its breath around the moment. His hazel eyes met mine, and there was something raw in them now, something he'd stopped trying to hide behind the polish of his tailored blazer and luxury watch.

"That's closer," I admitted, and I watched something flicker across his face—relief, maybe, or the beginning of hope. "But it's still not the whole answer."

"Then tell us," Suresh said, and his voice was quiet, precise, the voice of a man who'd been watching all evening and had his own theories. "You've been playing us all night, didi. Dancing around what you actually want. Why not just say it?"

I laughed, a low sound that surprised even me. "Because that would be too easy." I picked up my whiskey tumbler, swirled the amber liquid, watched the lamp light fracture through it. "You want to know what I want? I want to be devoured."

The word hung in the air, heavier than the smoke and sandalwood. I felt Arjun's fingers tighten on the hem of my saree.

"I want four men who understand that I'm not a prize to be won," I continued, my voice dropping to something almost intimate. "I'm a woman who's choosing to give herself. And that's a different thing entirely. That's a gift. And gifts should be appreciated."

Vikram's jaw worked. He understood now, I could see it. The challenge wasn't about impressing me with clever words or bold moves. It was about convincing me they were worthy of what I was offering—something they'd been treating as an assumption all evening.

"And if we can't?" Ravi asked, and there was a genuine question in his voice, a crack in his jovial facade. "If we can't convince you?"

I let the silence stretch, let each of them feel the weight of the possibility. Arjun's breathing had gone shallow behind me, his hand still on my saree, and I felt the faint heat of his palm through the chiffon.

"Then you'll go home," I said simply. "And you'll spend the rest of your lives wondering what you almost had."

I picked up the condom box again, felt its weight, and turned it over in my hands. The camera pin blinked its small red eye, and I knew Rohan was watching, knew he could see the exact curve of my fingers around the box, the way I was making these four men work for something he'd already had.

"One box," I said, holding it up. "You brought one box. For four men. For a woman you'd decided was going to be easy." I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "That's not confidence. That's arrogance. And arrogance doesn't impress me."

Suresh made a sound that might have been a chuckle or might have been a groan. "She's going to make us beg," he said, and there was something like admiration in his voice. "She's going to make us actually work for it."

"I'm going to make you understand what you're asking for," I corrected, setting the box back down. "That's different. Begging is easy. Understanding takes effort."

Vikram set down his tumbler with a decisive click. "You want us to prove we can see you," he said, and his voice had found its rhythm again, the smooth cadence of a man who'd spent decades closing deals. "You want us to prove that we're not just four men who saw a beautiful woman and assumed she'd spread her legs for the first man who bought her a drink."

"That's a start," I said, and I let a smile play at the corner of my lips. "Go on."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and there was something almost vulnerable in the way he held himself now, the confident businessman stripped back to something rawer.

"You want us to want you for what you are, not what we imagine you to be," he said, the words coming slower now, heavier, like he was mining them from somewhere deep. "You want us to see the woman who's been running this room all night, the woman who knew exactly what she was doing when she let me sit next to her on the metro, the woman who's been feeding this moment to someone else—"

He stopped, and I felt the room shift around the almost-said thing. The camera pin blinked. Arjun's hand went still on my saree.

"Someone else?" Suresh said, and his voice was carefully neutral, the voice of a man who'd just found a piece he hadn't known was missing from the puzzle.

Vikram's eyes met mine, and I saw the calculation in them, the realization that he'd stumbled onto something. "The way she looks at her phone," he said slowly, watching my face as he spoke. "The way she angled herself on the metro, the way she's been positioning herself all night. She's performing for someone. She has been all evening."

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut. I felt Arjun's hand tighten on the chiffon, felt the shift in the air as three other men processed what Vikram had just said.

And I smiled.

"Very good," I said, and I let the words land like a reward. "You're paying attention now. That's what I wanted to see."

Ravi let out a low whistle. "So there is someone," he said. "She's been putting on a show for someone the whole time."

"There's always someone," I said, and I didn't elaborate. Let them wonder. Let them imagine who might be watching, what he might be seeing, what he might be feeling as he watched me parry and dance with four men who were only just beginning to understand the game.

I picked up the condom box again, ran my thumb over the ULTRA lettering, and turned to face Arjun, who was still on his knees behind me. His eyes were dark, hungry, the wolfish grin long gone from his face, replaced by something more serious, more present.

"You've been quiet," I observed. "You kissed me, and then you went quiet. Why?"

His jaw worked. "You told me to wait."

"And you listened."

"You told me to."

I studied him for a long moment, taking in the muscular build, the gold chain glinting at his throat, the way his hands sat loose at his sides even though I could see the tension in his shoulders, the effort it was taking him to stay still.

"Arjun," I said, and his name came out soft, almost intimate. "What do you think I want?"

He held my gaze for a long moment, and I saw something move behind his eyes, a calculation of his own.

"I think you want to be taken," he said finally, his voice low. "Not gently. Not politely. I think you want to be handled like something precious that's also something disposable. I think you want to be used."

The word landed like a slap in the quiet room. Suresh made a small sound. Ravi shifted in his chair. Vikram went very still.

And I felt something open in my chest, a warmth spreading through me at the precision of his words.

"That's the most honest thing anyone's said all night," I said, and I reached out, touched his jaw with two fingers. "And it's still not the whole answer. But it's closer."

I let my fingers trail down his jaw, felt the stubble rough against my skin, and I watched his eyes darken at the contact.

"I want to be devoured," I said again, and this time the words came out like a promise. "I want four men who understand that I'm giving them something they haven't earned yet. And I want them to earn it."

I withdrew my hand, and the loss of contact made him lean forward involuntarily, a moth drawn to a flame he couldn't quite reach.

"So here's your test," I said, and I turned to face all of them, the condom box still in my hand. "Vikram, you said challenge accepted. So tell me—what is it I actually want from tonight?"

The question hung in the air again, but heavier now, weighted with everything that had been said. Vikram's jaw tightened, and I watched him struggle, watched him try to find the words that would unlock this door, the answer that would prove he understood.

His mouth opened. A breath escaped him. And the word didn't come.

The silence stretched, charged with his struggle, and I felt the weight of it pressing down on the room—the condom box in my hand, the camera pin blinking on my pallu, Arjun's warmth at my back, Vikram's hazel eyes searching mine for an answer I wasn't going to give him.

"Take your time," I said softly, and I let the moment hang there, suspended, waiting for him to find the thing that would cost him something to say.

I leaned in, the whisper of my saree the only sound in the room. Vikram's breath caught as my lips found the shell of his ear, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on him, the faint spice of his cologne. The camera pin blinked against my pallu, and I knew Rohan was leaning toward his screen, knew he could see the exact angle of my neck, the way I'd bent to give this man my answer.

"I want to watch you lose it," I breathed, the words barely more than air against his skin. "I want to see the polished businessman, the man who closes deals and charms widows, reduced to begging. I want to see what's left when the charm falls away and all that's left is hunger."

I felt him go rigid beneath my breath, felt the tremor that ran through him at the words. I didn't pull back. I let my lips brush his ear again, let the warmth of my voice sink into him.

"I want to watch four men who thought they were taking me realize they're being given something. And I want to see if they can handle it. If you can handle it."

I pulled back then, slow, letting the distance between us stretch like a wire pulled taut. His hazel eyes had gone dark, the calculation burned away, replaced by something rawer than I'd seen all night. His jaw worked, and I watched him swallow, watched the Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"Then we'll show you," he said, and the words came out rough, scraped from somewhere deep. The confidence was still there, but it was cracked now, a fissure running through the polished surface. "Whatever you want to see. We'll show you."

The room held its breath around those words. I felt Arjun's hand tighten on the hem of my saree, felt the heat of his palm through the chiffon like a brand. Suresh had gone still against the wall, his glasses catching the lamp light, his eyes sharp behind them. Ravi leaned forward in the armchair, his potbelly straining against his shirt, his jovial mask slipped to reveal something hungrier underneath.

I let the silence stretch, let them feel the weight of what Vikram had just promised. Then I smiled, slow, letting it build in my eyes before it reached my lips.

"Good," I said, and I set the condom box down on the table with a soft click. "Then let's begin."

I rose from the couch, and the movement sent a ripple through the room. Four men watched me stand, watched the way my saree fell around me, the deep neck of my blouse catching the lamplight. I'd slipped off my sandals hours ago, and the cool marble of the floor against my bare feet grounded me, reminded me of where I was, who I was, what I was doing here.

"Arjun," I said, and I didn't turn to look at him. I didn't need to. I could feel his attention like a physical weight. "Stand up."

I heard the rustle of his movement behind me, the soft sound of his knees leaving the carpet. He rose, and I felt his presence at my back, tall and solid, the heat of him radiating across the small distance between us.

"You kissed me without asking," I said, still not turning. "You took what you wanted, and you assumed I'd give it. That was bold." I paused, let the word hang. "It was also presumptuous."

The silence behind me was thick. I could feel him waiting, could feel the tension in his shoulders, the effort it was taking him not to speak, not to defend himself.

"But I liked it," I said, and I finally turned, letting my eyes find his. "I liked being kissed like I was something you needed. Something you couldn't help but take."

His eyes were dark, hungry, the wolfish grin nowhere to be found. He stood close, close enough that I could see the gold chain glinting at his throat, the pulse beating at the base of his neck.

"I want more of that," I said, and I reached out, let my fingers rest against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. "But I want it on my terms. I want you to understand that when you take, it's because I've given. Because I've chosen."

His jaw worked. "I understand," he said, and his voice was low, rough, stripped of the bravado he'd worn all evening.

"Do you?" I asked, and I let my fingers trail down his chest, slow, deliberate, feeling the muscles twitch beneath the fabric. "Because I'm not sure you do. I'm not sure any of you do."

I stepped past him, moving toward the center of the room, and I felt four sets of eyes follow me. The camera pin blinked on my pallu, a small red heartbeat in the dim light, and I knew Rohan was watching, knew he could see the way I moved, the way I'd turned this room into a stage.

"Vikram," I said, and I stopped, turning to face him. "You've been watching me all night. You saw me on the metro, you brought me here, you thought you were leading this dance." I let a smile play at my lips. "How does it feel to be wrong?"

He held my gaze, and I saw something flicker in his hazel eyes—annoyance, maybe, or the beginning of respect. "Different," he admitted. "Unexpected."

"Good," I said. "That's the point. You thought you knew what this night would be. You thought you'd bought yourself a woman with a drink and some charm." I let my voice drop, let it go soft and intimate. "But you didn't buy anything. You're not buying anything. You're being offered something, and you haven't decided yet if you're worthy of it."

The words landed like stones in still water. Ravi shifted in his chair, and I heard Suresh let out a low breath, something between a laugh and a sigh.

"You're enjoying this," Suresh said, and there was no judgment in his voice, just observation. "You're enjoying watching us squirm."

"Immensely," I said, and I let the word curl through the room. "But that's not all I'm doing. I'm testing you. All of you." I turned, let my eyes move from face to face, let each of them feel the weight of my attention. "I want to know if you can see me. Not the widow, not the woman in the sexy saree, not the prize you thought you'd won. Me."

Arjun took a step toward me, and I felt the shift in the room, the way the air tightened around his movement. "Then show us," he said, and his voice was rough, almost desperate. "Show us who you are."

I laughed, a low sound that surprised even me. "That's the thing, Arjun. I've been showing you all night. You just haven't been paying attention."

I moved toward him, closing the distance between us, and I let my hand come up to rest against his chest again, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. "You've been staring at my cleavage since the coffee shop. You kissed me without asking. You dropped to your knees when I nodded. You've been watching my body all night, but you haven't seen me."

His eyes met mine, and I saw something in them shift, a crack in the hunger, a flicker of something like understanding.

"Look at me," I said, and my voice was soft, intimate, meant only for him. "Really look at me. What do you see?"

He held my gaze, and for a long moment, the room fell away—the other men, the whiskey, the condom box on the table, the camera pin blinking on my pallu. It was just him and me, and I watched him really look, watched him strip away the assumptions and the hunger and the game, watched him try to see.

"I see a woman who's in control," he said finally, and his voice was different now, stripped of the bravado. "I see a woman who's been playing us all night, who's been feeding this moment to someone else, who's been measuring us against some standard we can't see." He paused, swallowed. "I see a woman who's not going to give herself to anyone who doesn't earn it."

The words landed in the quiet room, and I felt something shift in my chest, a warmth spreading through me at his precision.

"That's closer," I said, and I let my hand rest against his jaw, felt the stubble rough against my palm. "That's much closer."

I held his gaze for a long moment, then let my hand fall, let the contact break. I turned to face the room, to face all of them, and I let my voice carry the weight of what I was about to say.

"Here's what I want," I said, and I let the words hang in the air, heavy with promise. "I want to be devoured. I want four men who understand that I'm not a prize to be won, not a woman to be taken. I'm a woman who's choosing to give herself. And that's a gift. A gift that has to be earned."

I moved toward the low table, toward the condom box that sat there like a challenge, and I picked it up, ran my thumb over the ULTRA lettering.

"You brought one box," I said, and I let the words land like a verdict. "For four men. For a woman you'd decided was going to be easy." I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "That's not confidence. That's arrogance. And arrogance doesn't impress me."

I set the box back down, turned to face them. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to prove yourselves. You're going to show me that you can see me, that you understand what I'm offering, that you're worthy of the gift I'm considering giving." I let my eyes move from face to face, let each of them feel the weight of my attention. "And if you can't... you'll go home. And you'll spend the rest of your lives wondering what you almost had."

The silence that followed was thick, charged, heavy with the weight of what I'd said. I watched them process it, watched the shift in their postures, the way they looked at me differently now, the way they looked at each other.

Vikram was the first to move. He rose from his chair, slow, deliberate, and I watched him close the distance between us. He stopped before me, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the spice of his cologne.

"You want to watch us beg," he said, and his voice was low, rough, stripped of the polish he'd worn all evening. "You want to see what's left when the charm falls away."

I held his gaze. "Yes."

He reached out, and I felt his hand close around my wrist, his thumb pressing against the pulse point. "Then watch," he said, and there was something raw in his voice, something he'd stopped trying to hide. "Watch me beg."

He lowered himself to his knees before me, and I felt the room shift around the movement, felt the weight of it settle into the space between us. The polished businessman, the man who'd closed deals and charmed widows, on his knees on the marble floor, looking up at me with something naked in his eyes.

"Please," he said, and the word came out rough, scraped from somewhere deep. "Please, didi. Let us show you. Let us earn it."

I looked down at him, at the salt-and-pepper hair, the well-groomed beard, the expensive watch glinting at his wrist. He'd knelt before me, and I felt the power of it, the weight of it, the way it settled into my bones.

And somewhere outside, I knew Rohan was watching. Watching this man kneel. Watching me stand over him, the camera pin blinking on my pallu, the condom box on the table behind me.

I reached out, let my fingers rest against Vikram's jaw, felt the stubble rough against my skin. "Good boy," I said, and I watched something flicker in his eyes at the words. "That's a start."

I looked up, met the eyes of the other three men. Arjun stood where I'd left him, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes dark with hunger. Suresh had pushed off the wall, his glasses catching the lamp light, his expression unreadable. Ravi had risen from the armchair, his jovial mask fully slipped, something raw and hungry underneath.

"Well?" I said, and I let the word hang in the air like a challenge. "Are you going to let him do this alone?"

Arjun moved first. He crossed the room in three strides, and I watched him drop to his knees beside Vikram, his eyes never leaving mine. Suresh followed, slower, more deliberate, and I watched him fold himself down to the marble, his kurta pooling around him. Ravi was last, and I heard the soft grunt of effort as he lowered his stocky frame to the floor.

Four men on their knees before me. Four men who'd thought they were taking me, now waiting for me to give.

I let the moment stretch, let them feel the weight of it, the shift in the power between us. The camera pin blinked on my pallu, and I knew Rohan was watching, knew he could see the exact tableau I'd created—four men kneeling, one woman standing, the condom box on the table behind her.

"Now," I said, and I let my voice drop to something soft, intimate, meant only for them. "Show me you understand."

Vikram's breath came shallow, his hazel eyes fixed on mine from his knees on the marble. The lamp light caught the salt in his hair, the careful trim of his beard, the way his tailored blazer strained at the shoulders as he held himself still. He was a man who'd spent decades commanding rooms, and here he was, waiting for my word like a dog at table.

"I said show me," I repeated, softer this time, letting the words settle into the space between us. "You heard the question, Vikram. You've had all evening to find the answer. So tell me—what is it I actually want from tonight?"

His jaw worked. I watched him try to summon the smooth cadence, the closing-deal voice, the one that had charmed widows and intimidated juniors for thirty years. It didn't come. What came instead was a raw sound, something between a breath and a groan, as he searched himself for the thing I was asking him to find.

"You want—" he started, and stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "You want to be seen. Truly seen. Not as the widow, not as the woman in the saree, but as the woman who's been running this room since the moment she stepped off the metro."

I tilted my head, let the silence stretch. "That's what you said before. And I told you it wasn't the whole answer."

His hands, resting on his thighs, curled into fists. I could see the effort it took him to stay still, to not rise and pace, to not reach for the whiskey tumbler he'd abandoned on the table. The polished businessman was cracking, fissures running through the surface, and I watched him feel for the words like a man feeling for a handhold in the dark.

"You want to be devoured," he said, and the word came out rough, scraped. "You said that. You want four men who understand that you're giving yourself, not being taken. You want us to earn the gift."

"That's what I said," I agreed. "But I asked what I want. Not what I said. What do I actually want, Vikram?"

The room had gone utterly still. Behind me, I could feel Arjun's heat, his eyes on my back. To my left, Suresh had gone motionless against the wall, his glasses catching the lamp light, his expression unreadable. Ravi had sunk back into the armchair, his jovial mask long gone, something raw and hungry underneath.

And Vikram knelt before me, his jaw working, his eyes searching mine for an answer I wasn't going to give him.

"I don't know," he said finally, and the admission cost him something visible, a crack in the armor he'd worn all evening. "I've been trying to find it all night, and I don't know."

I let the silence hold, let him feel the weight of his own failure. Then I moved, stepping closer until I stood directly before him, the toes of my bare feet inches from his knees.

"Then beg," I said softly. "Beg me to tell you."

His eyes widened, just a flicker, there and gone. I watched him process the word, watched the war play out across his face—the pride, the decades of command, the instinct to rise and walk out, to salvage what was left of his dignity. And I watched something else win, something deeper and hungrier than pride.

"Please," he said, and the word came out cracked, barely a sound. "Please, didi. Tell me what you want."

"Louder," I said, and I angled my body slightly, letting the camera pin on my pallu catch the lamp light, letting Rohan see the exact angle of Vikram's face as he knelt before me. "I want to hear it."

His throat worked. I watched him swallow, watched the Adam's apple bob, watched the effort it took him to draw breath. The polished businessman was gone, stripped away, and what remained was a man on his knees, raw and trembling, looking up at me with something naked in his eyes.

"Please," he said again, and this time the word carried weight, carried the full weight of his surrender. "Please tell me what you want. I'll do anything. I'll say anything. Just tell me what you want from tonight."

The words hung in the air, heavy as smoke. I felt the shift in the room, the way the other three men had gone utterly still, watching their leader kneel and beg. I felt Arjun's breath catch behind me, felt Suresh's sharp attention from the wall, felt Ravi's weight settle deeper into the armchair.

And I felt the power settle into my bones, warm and heavy, the knowledge that I had broken this man open and he had let me.

"Good," I said, and I reached down, let my fingers rest against his jaw. "That's very good, Vikram. That's what I wanted to see."

His eyes searched mine, hungry for approval, and I gave it to him—a small nod, a softening of my mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

"You want to know what I want?" I said, and I let my thumb trace the line of his jaw, felt the stubble rough against my skin. "I want to watch you lose yourself. I want to see the man who closes deals and charms widows reduced to this—on his knees, begging, with no idea what's coming next. I want to see what's left when the charm falls away and all that's left is hunger."

His breath shuddered out of him. "That's—"

"That's what I want," I said, cutting him off. "I want four men who thought they were taking me realize they're being given something. And I want to see if they can handle it. If you can handle it."

I withdrew my hand, and the loss of contact made him lean forward involuntarily, a moth drawn to a flame he couldn't quite reach.

"So here's your test," I said, and I turned to face the room, to face all of them. "You're going to prove yourselves. You're going to show me that you understand what I'm offering, that you're worthy of the gift I'm considering giving. And you're going to do it together, because I didn't bring you here to watch you compete. I brought you here to watch you worship."

The word landed like a stone in still water. I watched it ripple through them—Arjun's sharp intake of breath, Suresh's slow blink, Ravi's hand tightening on the armrest of his chair.

"Worship," Vikram repeated, and the word came out rough, like he was testing its weight in his mouth.

"Yes," I said. "You've been circling me all night, trying to figure out how to take me. But I'm not something to be taken. I'm something to be given. And the only way you'll receive me is if you prove you understand what that means."

I moved toward the low table, toward the condom box that sat there like a challenge, and I picked it up, ran my thumb over the ULTRA lettering.

"One box," I said, and I let the words land like a verdict. "For four men. For a woman you'd decided was going to be easy." I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "That's not confidence. That's arrogance. And arrogance doesn't impress me."

Arjun was the first to move. He rose from his knees, slow, deliberate, and I watched him close the distance between us. He stopped before me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the faint musk of his cologne.

"Tell me what to do," he said, and his voice was low, rough, stripped of the bravado he'd worn all evening. "Tell me how to earn it."

I held his gaze, let the moment stretch. "You kissed me without asking," I said. "You took what you wanted, and you assumed I'd give it. That was bold." I paused, let the word hang. "It was also presumptuous."

His jaw worked. "I know."

"But I liked it," I said, and I let a smile play at my lips. "I liked being kissed like I was something you needed. Something you couldn't help but take."

His eyes darkened, hunger flickering in their depths. "Then let me—"

"No," I said, and the word cut through his sentence like a blade. "You don't get to take anymore. You get to earn. And earning starts with understanding."

I stepped past him, moved toward the center of the room, and I felt four sets of eyes follow me. The camera pin blinked on my pallu, a small red heartbeat in the dim light, and I knew Rohan was watching, knew he could see the way I moved, the way I'd turned this room into a stage.