19-09-2026, 05:05 PM
(This post was last modified: 19-09-2026, 05:06 PM by SilverArrow. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Two weeks dragged by in a blur of restless nights and frantic corporate work. Monica did everything she could to bury the shameful memory of that dark highway drive—drowning herself in client presentations, busy schedules, and keeping her interaction with Ranga strictly limited to brief, professional project updates. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't escape the memory. Every time she swallowed or caught her reflection in the mirror, the phantom sensation of that thick, heavy heat in her mouth returned, leaving her lost, irritable, and constantly on the edge.
On a humid Saturday morning a month after that sinister pub celebration, Rakesh lay curled under blankets in the bedroom, his face flushed with a 102-degree viral fever. A half-empty glass of electoral water and a strip of paracetamol rested on the nightstand beside him.
Monica placed a freshly dampened cloth on his forehead, her heart still heavy with a confusing mix of genuine concern and underlying guilt.
"I can tell Ranga to defer the supervisor meeting to Monday, Rakesh," she whispered softly, running her cool fingers through his damp hair. "You're in no condition for me to leave you like this."
Rakesh let out a weak, raspy cough, opening his heavy eyes just a crack. "No... don't delay it, Monica. The land registrar’s approval sheet has a strict 48-hour response window for site verification. If we miss it... the sanction gets pushed back by six months. You should Go and inspect the site with Ranga Saab... I'll just sleep."
Monica swallowed down the lump in her throat. Going meant being near Ranga again, but looking at the urgency of the cafe project—she nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll be back in two hours. Call me if you need anything"
As Monica sat inside the cab, she tried to rehearse what to speak to the site supervisor. She knew these site supervisors are such big scum bags. And she does not overly want to trust Ranga either. Though she has had her intimate moments with Ranga, Monica knew Ranga was nothing more than a seasoned criminal. Yes, she and Ranga had long make out sessions especially the filthy way he sucked Monica’s boobs in the bath tub. But to be involved in a relationship with such a kind of man can break her marriage and family. And she had to put a full stop to this. No she can’t get carried away like this!
The café project is a dream she cherished for long, and Ranga Anna should just be a partner in business, nothing more.
She wore a simple kurti and leggings for the meeting. The kurti featured a clean collar with a subtle V neckline that exposed just the base of her throat—decent and strictly formal. Yet, the tailored fitting was remarkably sharp. The fabric hugged the natural taper of her waist and contour of her large breasts before flaring subtly at the hips, ending right at her thighs. She paired it with fitted stretch leggings that sculpted the smooth line of her legs down to a pair of block-heeled sandals.
The cab dropped her off right outside the rusted iron gates of the undeveloped plot. The site was deserted—no construction workers, no noise, just the distant hum of the trucks plying on the main road and the hot, humid breeze rustling through the overgrown dry grass along the perimeter fence.
Ten minutes later, the deep rumble of an engine broke the quiet. Ranga’s black Enfield bike pulled off the tarmac, kicking up a fine cloud of yellow dust as it glided to a stop near the entrance.
Ranga killed the engine, casually adjusting the sleeves of his dark olive polo shirt. His broad frame seemed to dominate the empty space instantly.
"You took a cab all the way out here?" Ranga asked, his voice low and unhurried as he stopped a few feet away. "How is Rakesh Saab doing?"
Monica kept her chin up, her arms folded securely across her chest. "His fever spiked to 102. He’s completely bedridden today, so I came alone. We need to focus on what needs to be said to the supervisor"
Ranga nodded slowly "Let him present the sanction document and hear what he has to say first Monica!”
He leaned back against his bike "The main issue is the three-meter alley marked on the master layout. If he logs that as a violation, that would be a problem”
"Oh ..that’s new information for me Ranga Anna .And how are we handling it?" Monica asked
"I’ve already spoken to the municipal office," Ranga said smoothly. "Let’s see what they have decided after that”
Before Monica could reply, a black Mahindra Scorpio turned onto the dirt approach road, its tires crunching heavily over the loose gravel.
The supervisor stepped out. He was a burly, thick-set man in his late forties, wearing a faded bush shirt tucked into khaki trousers that stretched tight across his big belly. He had a thick moustache, sun-darkened skin, and carried a wooden clipboard tucked under his arm.
"Ranga Saab," the supervisor boomed in a heavy, raspy voice, walking over to shake Ranga’s hand with a firm grip.
"Sorry for the delay. Traffic on the bypass was choked."
"No issue, Misraji” Ranga replied easily, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Appreciate you coming out on a Saturday." Ranga then gestured toward Monica. "Meet Mrs. Monica. She is the principal partner for the café project."
Mishra turned his heavy frame toward her, his eyes drifting subtly over her tailored kurti before he offered a polite nod. "Namaste, Madam. Good to meet you. Shall we step inside the site cabin and look at the layout papers first?"
The heavy iron key turned with a loud, metallic clack, and the supervisor pushed open the door to the makeshift tin cabin.
A wave of trapped, hot air immediately washed over them, smelling of damp cement, warm tin sheets, and old paper files. The cabin was narrow—furnished only with a battered wooden desk, three plastic chairs, a rusty steel almirah, and an overhead ceiling fan that hummed with a low, rhythmic rattle as the supervisor switched it on.
"Please sit, Madam... Ranga Saab," the supervisor said, pulling out a plastic chair for Monica.
As Monica sat down, the tight, tailored cut of her blue kurti pulled neatly across her chest and ass. The supervisor’s sharp, unblinking eyes lingered heavily on her exposed collarbone and the firm contour of her breasts before he moved around to sit behind the desk. Monica felt a sudden, unpleasant prickle along her skin. She instinctively adjusted the front lapel of her kurti, smoothing the fabric over her tits to block his lingering gaze, her posture stiffening into a cold, defensive stance.
"So, Mishra ji," Monica began immediately “What is the update on the municipal sanction? Ranga Anna mentioned there was an issue with the alley on the master layout."
Supervisor Mishra unfolded the heavy, blue-stamped blueprint onto the scarred wooden desk.
"So here Madam, you can read out the municipal section officer’s response here …...Madam, I'll give it to you straight," Mishra said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "The town planning office has officially rejected the layout approval."
Monica froze, her eyes snapping up to his. "Rejected? What do you mean rejected?"
"Madam. They refused to sign the clearance certificate."
"On what possible grounds?" Monica demanded, her voice rising in sharp disbelief "Our legal team cleared the title search three weeks ago! and we submitted every single environmental and structural compliance document required by the municipal act. How can they reject a clean application?"
Mishra let out a dry chuckle
"Paperwork is fine, Madam," Mishra explained smoothly, his tone nonchalant. "But three days ago, an objection petition was filed at the Zonal Commissioner's desk. An adjacent local landlord—backed by the area's municipal councillor—claims that this three-meter side alley has been used as a public road for twenty years. The town planner used that single objection as an excuse to freeze the file."
"That's absolute rubbish!" Monica flared up. "That alley is a private property recorded in the land registry map! This is completely fabricated !"
"Of course it's fabricated, Madam," Mishra replied, tapping his thick fingers against his knee. "They file objections to block your project until you come to the table and pay them off"
Ranga, who had been listening quietly while leaning finally spoke
"Who is the Assistant Town Planner sitting on the file, Mishra?" Ranga asked, his eyes fixing on the supervisor
"It's Senior Engineer Deshmukh, Ranga Saab," Mishra said "He is playing tough. He’s working in tandem with the local councillor's boys. So they want a massive bite of the pie."
Monica rubbed her temples, feeling a throbbing headache building behind her eyes. "Fine. Then we file an official complain on Monday. We shall issue a legal notice to Deshmukh for malicious delay, and—"
"Madam... please," Mishra interrupted
"This isn't some corporate office where you send legal notices and emails. You file a complaint, and Deshmukh will intentionally delay the hearing dates for six months. Your loan interest will pile up, your project timeline will die, and the file will sit in a dusty cupboard till it rots”
"Then what is the solution?" Monica asked, her voice tight with anger
Mishra leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the blueprint.
"There are only two ways files move through the office on these outskirts, Madam," Mishra said bluntly. "Option one: you pay a straight bribe of twenty-five to thirty lakhs in hard cash to Deshmukh and the councillor to withdraw the objection."
"Thirty lakhs?!" Monica gasped, her eyes widening. "Are you insane ? That’s pure extortion! We need to spend a lot for construction anyway …no bank would give loan for that crazy bribe amount!"
"Then option two," Mishra continued, his eyes flicking toward Ranga with a knowing, dark glint. "You don't use lawyers, Madam. You use raw power. You send men who can locate Deshmukh's private residence, step into his living room, and remind him very clearly what happens to his career—and his family—if that seal isn't stamped on the file by Monday morning. You scare him well enough!"
The cabin fell dead quiet except for the rattling ceiling fan.
Monica sat paralyzed, her breath hitching in her throat. She was completely clueless against the crude, corrupt reality of the local system.
Supervisor Mishra checked his thick wrist watch, wiping the back of his neck with a crumpled handkerchief before sliding the blue-stamped layout file back into his clipboard.
"I have another site inspection in Sector 82," Mishra said, standing up from his chair. "I’ll give you time until Monday morning, 10:00 AM, Madam. If I don't get a clear direction by then—either the thirty lakhs cash advance or a clear sign that the objection is being cleared, then unfortunately I have to search for another party ..Sorry for that Madam and Ranga Anna!”
He offered a brief, respectful nod to Ranga, gave Monica’s tight kurti one last lingering glance, and stepped out into the midday sun.
Monica asked from inside “Wait please Mishra Saab, this is bit unbelievable..I mean 30 lakhs payment within two days, what other options we have ?”
Mishra turned around and grinned “Madam, I told there is only another way and that is to really scare him off for life! Unfortunately there is no other way to deal with a corrupt bastard like Deshmukh! I am really getting late Madam…Chalta Hoon!”
Monica stood frozen beside the wooden desk, her palms pressed flat against the rough surface, her breath coming in quick, shallow rasps.
"Ranga..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she turned around to face him. "What options do we actually have? Thirty lakhs is completely impossible right now. Our entire initial equity is tied up in the land advance and interior deposits. If Rakesh finds out the project is going into litigation before we even break ground..."
She trailed off, rubbing her forehead in desperation.
Ranga didn't answer immediately. He thought for a while.
"Deshmukh isn't a small-time clerk, Monica," Ranga said softly "He’s a Senior Assistant Town Planner. He has political backing, p-o-l-i-c-e contacts, and three different property deals running under the table. You think a guy like that gets scared easily?"
Monica looked up at him, "Mishra said you could use force... that you have men who can scare him into signing."
A slow, dark smirk spread across Ranga's broad jaw. “ I can break his pride in ten minutes, Monica"
He paused and then added
"But that’s a high-risk criminal play. If Deshmukh files an FIR, the heat comes directly onto me. My name goes on the p-o-l-i-c-e radar again."
Monica’s breath hitched in her throat. "Then... then what are you saying?"
The tin roof buzzed under the relentless midday sun, turning the narrow cabin into a pressure cooker. Outside, the dry grass rustled quietly in the hot wind, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of dust, sweat, and unspoken tension.
Ranga didn't rush his response. He took out his packet of cigarette and took one out and started smoking!
He took two slow, deliberate steps away from the wall, his heavy boots thudding against the concrete floor and thought for a very long moment.
"Hmmm…You think a guy like Deshmukh signs files because someone asks politely?" Ranga said finally, his voice dropping into a low rasp that seemed to vibrate against the metal walls. "If I go to his house, it won't be a conversation. My boys will have to break his front lock, grab him by the collar in front of his wife, and make him sign that clearance sheet with a gun to his knee"
Monica’s fingers tightened on the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. "I know it’s dangerous, Ranga... but you said you could handle it. I know it’s not the right way, but there is no other way to manage a bastard like Deshmukh"
"I can handle it," Ranga countered smoothly, leaning one heavy forearm on the back of her chair. He bent down slightly, his broad chest almost brushing her shoulder. "But you're missing the point, Monica. An officer like Deshmukh has friends in the Superintendent's office. The second he gets his breath back, he will file an FIR. My name goes straight to the top of the most wanted list. They will look for an excuse to put me behind bars for five years."
He paused, letting the heavy weight of the threat hang in the air.
“Ranga Anna, even you are a partner in this project, the land deal profits will flow to you as well ..is it not?” Monica asked sharply
Ranga laughed “Monica, I just explained to you that the café project Profit is not that much that I will be okay to take this kind of risk with the cops!”
"Then tell me what it takes, Ranga!" Monica demanded, her voice cracking with a mixture of fear, frustration, and rising desperation. "What will it take for you to go to Deshmukh and force him to stamp that paper?"
Ranga let out a soft, dark chuckle, shaking his head slowly.
"You corporate people are all the same," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You think everything can be settled with an invoice or a bank transfer. But out here in the real world, big risks require real payment. Every businessman demands a high return when the investment is dangerous. That's basic economics, isn't it, Madam?"
Monica stood up abruptly, the chair screeching backward against the floor. She stood nose-to-chest with him, her eyes flashing with sharp irritation, her navy blue kurti heaving as she breathed in short, furious gasps.
"Stop playing mind games and be clear with me, Ranga!" she snapped, trying desperately to hold onto her corporate dignity despite the flush spreading across her neck. "Stop talking in riddles! What do you actually want from me?"
Ranga didn't pull back. He nodded and spoke softlg
"Hmmm..What do I need ? I don't want more profit share, Monica..I know the café will take some time to break even!" Ranga said, his deep voice carrying a dark, hypnotic weight that made her knees feel weak. "Rakesh's promise of 30% profit means nothing to me. If I'm going to put my head in a noose for your project... I want the real owner of this project."
Monica’s breath caught squarely in her throat. "Ranga..."
"Monica you stand here pretending to ignore me for the last month.." Ranga purred, his thumb sliding down her jawline to press lightly against the hollow of her throat, right above the V-notch of her neckline. "But we both know what happened on that dark highway a month ago. You know what it feels like to have me in your mouth while your husband sleeps six inches away."
His gaze dropped slowly to her chest, where the tight tailored seam of her navy kurti outlined her deep, frantic breathing, before rising back to hold her captive in his stare.
"If you want Deshmukh broken by Monday morning, you stop hiding behind your excuses, Monica" Ranga whispered, his heavy hand sliding down to wrap firmly around the curve of her waist, pulling her a fraction closer. "You give me what I want. You let me take you whenever and wherever I demand—starting right here, right now, on this desk. That's my price, Monica. Now tell me... how badly do you want this sanction cleared?"
On a humid Saturday morning a month after that sinister pub celebration, Rakesh lay curled under blankets in the bedroom, his face flushed with a 102-degree viral fever. A half-empty glass of electoral water and a strip of paracetamol rested on the nightstand beside him.
Monica placed a freshly dampened cloth on his forehead, her heart still heavy with a confusing mix of genuine concern and underlying guilt.
"I can tell Ranga to defer the supervisor meeting to Monday, Rakesh," she whispered softly, running her cool fingers through his damp hair. "You're in no condition for me to leave you like this."
Rakesh let out a weak, raspy cough, opening his heavy eyes just a crack. "No... don't delay it, Monica. The land registrar’s approval sheet has a strict 48-hour response window for site verification. If we miss it... the sanction gets pushed back by six months. You should Go and inspect the site with Ranga Saab... I'll just sleep."
Monica swallowed down the lump in her throat. Going meant being near Ranga again, but looking at the urgency of the cafe project—she nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll be back in two hours. Call me if you need anything"
As Monica sat inside the cab, she tried to rehearse what to speak to the site supervisor. She knew these site supervisors are such big scum bags. And she does not overly want to trust Ranga either. Though she has had her intimate moments with Ranga, Monica knew Ranga was nothing more than a seasoned criminal. Yes, she and Ranga had long make out sessions especially the filthy way he sucked Monica’s boobs in the bath tub. But to be involved in a relationship with such a kind of man can break her marriage and family. And she had to put a full stop to this. No she can’t get carried away like this!
The café project is a dream she cherished for long, and Ranga Anna should just be a partner in business, nothing more.
She wore a simple kurti and leggings for the meeting. The kurti featured a clean collar with a subtle V neckline that exposed just the base of her throat—decent and strictly formal. Yet, the tailored fitting was remarkably sharp. The fabric hugged the natural taper of her waist and contour of her large breasts before flaring subtly at the hips, ending right at her thighs. She paired it with fitted stretch leggings that sculpted the smooth line of her legs down to a pair of block-heeled sandals.
The cab dropped her off right outside the rusted iron gates of the undeveloped plot. The site was deserted—no construction workers, no noise, just the distant hum of the trucks plying on the main road and the hot, humid breeze rustling through the overgrown dry grass along the perimeter fence.
Ten minutes later, the deep rumble of an engine broke the quiet. Ranga’s black Enfield bike pulled off the tarmac, kicking up a fine cloud of yellow dust as it glided to a stop near the entrance.
Ranga killed the engine, casually adjusting the sleeves of his dark olive polo shirt. His broad frame seemed to dominate the empty space instantly.
"You took a cab all the way out here?" Ranga asked, his voice low and unhurried as he stopped a few feet away. "How is Rakesh Saab doing?"
Monica kept her chin up, her arms folded securely across her chest. "His fever spiked to 102. He’s completely bedridden today, so I came alone. We need to focus on what needs to be said to the supervisor"
Ranga nodded slowly "Let him present the sanction document and hear what he has to say first Monica!”
He leaned back against his bike "The main issue is the three-meter alley marked on the master layout. If he logs that as a violation, that would be a problem”
"Oh ..that’s new information for me Ranga Anna .And how are we handling it?" Monica asked
"I’ve already spoken to the municipal office," Ranga said smoothly. "Let’s see what they have decided after that”
Before Monica could reply, a black Mahindra Scorpio turned onto the dirt approach road, its tires crunching heavily over the loose gravel.
The supervisor stepped out. He was a burly, thick-set man in his late forties, wearing a faded bush shirt tucked into khaki trousers that stretched tight across his big belly. He had a thick moustache, sun-darkened skin, and carried a wooden clipboard tucked under his arm.
"Ranga Saab," the supervisor boomed in a heavy, raspy voice, walking over to shake Ranga’s hand with a firm grip.
"Sorry for the delay. Traffic on the bypass was choked."
"No issue, Misraji” Ranga replied easily, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Appreciate you coming out on a Saturday." Ranga then gestured toward Monica. "Meet Mrs. Monica. She is the principal partner for the café project."
Mishra turned his heavy frame toward her, his eyes drifting subtly over her tailored kurti before he offered a polite nod. "Namaste, Madam. Good to meet you. Shall we step inside the site cabin and look at the layout papers first?"
The heavy iron key turned with a loud, metallic clack, and the supervisor pushed open the door to the makeshift tin cabin.
A wave of trapped, hot air immediately washed over them, smelling of damp cement, warm tin sheets, and old paper files. The cabin was narrow—furnished only with a battered wooden desk, three plastic chairs, a rusty steel almirah, and an overhead ceiling fan that hummed with a low, rhythmic rattle as the supervisor switched it on.
"Please sit, Madam... Ranga Saab," the supervisor said, pulling out a plastic chair for Monica.
As Monica sat down, the tight, tailored cut of her blue kurti pulled neatly across her chest and ass. The supervisor’s sharp, unblinking eyes lingered heavily on her exposed collarbone and the firm contour of her breasts before he moved around to sit behind the desk. Monica felt a sudden, unpleasant prickle along her skin. She instinctively adjusted the front lapel of her kurti, smoothing the fabric over her tits to block his lingering gaze, her posture stiffening into a cold, defensive stance.
"So, Mishra ji," Monica began immediately “What is the update on the municipal sanction? Ranga Anna mentioned there was an issue with the alley on the master layout."
Supervisor Mishra unfolded the heavy, blue-stamped blueprint onto the scarred wooden desk.
"So here Madam, you can read out the municipal section officer’s response here …...Madam, I'll give it to you straight," Mishra said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "The town planning office has officially rejected the layout approval."
Monica froze, her eyes snapping up to his. "Rejected? What do you mean rejected?"
"Madam. They refused to sign the clearance certificate."
"On what possible grounds?" Monica demanded, her voice rising in sharp disbelief "Our legal team cleared the title search three weeks ago! and we submitted every single environmental and structural compliance document required by the municipal act. How can they reject a clean application?"
Mishra let out a dry chuckle
"Paperwork is fine, Madam," Mishra explained smoothly, his tone nonchalant. "But three days ago, an objection petition was filed at the Zonal Commissioner's desk. An adjacent local landlord—backed by the area's municipal councillor—claims that this three-meter side alley has been used as a public road for twenty years. The town planner used that single objection as an excuse to freeze the file."
"That's absolute rubbish!" Monica flared up. "That alley is a private property recorded in the land registry map! This is completely fabricated !"
"Of course it's fabricated, Madam," Mishra replied, tapping his thick fingers against his knee. "They file objections to block your project until you come to the table and pay them off"
Ranga, who had been listening quietly while leaning finally spoke
"Who is the Assistant Town Planner sitting on the file, Mishra?" Ranga asked, his eyes fixing on the supervisor
"It's Senior Engineer Deshmukh, Ranga Saab," Mishra said "He is playing tough. He’s working in tandem with the local councillor's boys. So they want a massive bite of the pie."
Monica rubbed her temples, feeling a throbbing headache building behind her eyes. "Fine. Then we file an official complain on Monday. We shall issue a legal notice to Deshmukh for malicious delay, and—"
"Madam... please," Mishra interrupted
"This isn't some corporate office where you send legal notices and emails. You file a complaint, and Deshmukh will intentionally delay the hearing dates for six months. Your loan interest will pile up, your project timeline will die, and the file will sit in a dusty cupboard till it rots”
"Then what is the solution?" Monica asked, her voice tight with anger
Mishra leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the blueprint.
"There are only two ways files move through the office on these outskirts, Madam," Mishra said bluntly. "Option one: you pay a straight bribe of twenty-five to thirty lakhs in hard cash to Deshmukh and the councillor to withdraw the objection."
"Thirty lakhs?!" Monica gasped, her eyes widening. "Are you insane ? That’s pure extortion! We need to spend a lot for construction anyway …no bank would give loan for that crazy bribe amount!"
"Then option two," Mishra continued, his eyes flicking toward Ranga with a knowing, dark glint. "You don't use lawyers, Madam. You use raw power. You send men who can locate Deshmukh's private residence, step into his living room, and remind him very clearly what happens to his career—and his family—if that seal isn't stamped on the file by Monday morning. You scare him well enough!"
The cabin fell dead quiet except for the rattling ceiling fan.
Monica sat paralyzed, her breath hitching in her throat. She was completely clueless against the crude, corrupt reality of the local system.
Supervisor Mishra checked his thick wrist watch, wiping the back of his neck with a crumpled handkerchief before sliding the blue-stamped layout file back into his clipboard.
"I have another site inspection in Sector 82," Mishra said, standing up from his chair. "I’ll give you time until Monday morning, 10:00 AM, Madam. If I don't get a clear direction by then—either the thirty lakhs cash advance or a clear sign that the objection is being cleared, then unfortunately I have to search for another party ..Sorry for that Madam and Ranga Anna!”
He offered a brief, respectful nod to Ranga, gave Monica’s tight kurti one last lingering glance, and stepped out into the midday sun.
Monica asked from inside “Wait please Mishra Saab, this is bit unbelievable..I mean 30 lakhs payment within two days, what other options we have ?”
Mishra turned around and grinned “Madam, I told there is only another way and that is to really scare him off for life! Unfortunately there is no other way to deal with a corrupt bastard like Deshmukh! I am really getting late Madam…Chalta Hoon!”
Monica stood frozen beside the wooden desk, her palms pressed flat against the rough surface, her breath coming in quick, shallow rasps.
"Ranga..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she turned around to face him. "What options do we actually have? Thirty lakhs is completely impossible right now. Our entire initial equity is tied up in the land advance and interior deposits. If Rakesh finds out the project is going into litigation before we even break ground..."
She trailed off, rubbing her forehead in desperation.
Ranga didn't answer immediately. He thought for a while.
"Deshmukh isn't a small-time clerk, Monica," Ranga said softly "He’s a Senior Assistant Town Planner. He has political backing, p-o-l-i-c-e contacts, and three different property deals running under the table. You think a guy like that gets scared easily?"
Monica looked up at him, "Mishra said you could use force... that you have men who can scare him into signing."
A slow, dark smirk spread across Ranga's broad jaw. “ I can break his pride in ten minutes, Monica"
He paused and then added
"But that’s a high-risk criminal play. If Deshmukh files an FIR, the heat comes directly onto me. My name goes on the p-o-l-i-c-e radar again."
Monica’s breath hitched in her throat. "Then... then what are you saying?"
The tin roof buzzed under the relentless midday sun, turning the narrow cabin into a pressure cooker. Outside, the dry grass rustled quietly in the hot wind, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of dust, sweat, and unspoken tension.
Ranga didn't rush his response. He took out his packet of cigarette and took one out and started smoking!
He took two slow, deliberate steps away from the wall, his heavy boots thudding against the concrete floor and thought for a very long moment.
"Hmmm…You think a guy like Deshmukh signs files because someone asks politely?" Ranga said finally, his voice dropping into a low rasp that seemed to vibrate against the metal walls. "If I go to his house, it won't be a conversation. My boys will have to break his front lock, grab him by the collar in front of his wife, and make him sign that clearance sheet with a gun to his knee"
Monica’s fingers tightened on the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. "I know it’s dangerous, Ranga... but you said you could handle it. I know it’s not the right way, but there is no other way to manage a bastard like Deshmukh"
"I can handle it," Ranga countered smoothly, leaning one heavy forearm on the back of her chair. He bent down slightly, his broad chest almost brushing her shoulder. "But you're missing the point, Monica. An officer like Deshmukh has friends in the Superintendent's office. The second he gets his breath back, he will file an FIR. My name goes straight to the top of the most wanted list. They will look for an excuse to put me behind bars for five years."
He paused, letting the heavy weight of the threat hang in the air.
“Ranga Anna, even you are a partner in this project, the land deal profits will flow to you as well ..is it not?” Monica asked sharply
Ranga laughed “Monica, I just explained to you that the café project Profit is not that much that I will be okay to take this kind of risk with the cops!”
"Then tell me what it takes, Ranga!" Monica demanded, her voice cracking with a mixture of fear, frustration, and rising desperation. "What will it take for you to go to Deshmukh and force him to stamp that paper?"
Ranga let out a soft, dark chuckle, shaking his head slowly.
"You corporate people are all the same," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You think everything can be settled with an invoice or a bank transfer. But out here in the real world, big risks require real payment. Every businessman demands a high return when the investment is dangerous. That's basic economics, isn't it, Madam?"
Monica stood up abruptly, the chair screeching backward against the floor. She stood nose-to-chest with him, her eyes flashing with sharp irritation, her navy blue kurti heaving as she breathed in short, furious gasps.
"Stop playing mind games and be clear with me, Ranga!" she snapped, trying desperately to hold onto her corporate dignity despite the flush spreading across her neck. "Stop talking in riddles! What do you actually want from me?"
Ranga didn't pull back. He nodded and spoke softlg
"Hmmm..What do I need ? I don't want more profit share, Monica..I know the café will take some time to break even!" Ranga said, his deep voice carrying a dark, hypnotic weight that made her knees feel weak. "Rakesh's promise of 30% profit means nothing to me. If I'm going to put my head in a noose for your project... I want the real owner of this project."
Monica’s breath caught squarely in her throat. "Ranga..."
"Monica you stand here pretending to ignore me for the last month.." Ranga purred, his thumb sliding down her jawline to press lightly against the hollow of her throat, right above the V-notch of her neckline. "But we both know what happened on that dark highway a month ago. You know what it feels like to have me in your mouth while your husband sleeps six inches away."
His gaze dropped slowly to her chest, where the tight tailored seam of her navy kurti outlined her deep, frantic breathing, before rising back to hold her captive in his stare.
"If you want Deshmukh broken by Monday morning, you stop hiding behind your excuses, Monica" Ranga whispered, his heavy hand sliding down to wrap firmly around the curve of her waist, pulling her a fraction closer. "You give me what I want. You let me take you whenever and wherever I demand—starting right here, right now, on this desk. That's my price, Monica. Now tell me... how badly do you want this sanction cleared?"
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