As the meeting concluded, Silas gestured to his daughter. "Riya, take the Rolls. Drop PK at the Manor. He's done enough work for three lifetimes today; the least we can do is give him a comfortable ride."
Riya nodded, her heart still racing from the twenty-crore "gift."
The ride started in a heavy, charged silence. The interior of the Rolls-Royce was plush, isolated from the noise of Z City. PK leaned back in the leather seat, his eyes closed, finally letting the "Demon of the Market" mask slip into exhaustion.
Riya stole a glance at him from the driver's seat. He looked so harmless when he was tired—just a college student in a hoodie. But her bank account told a different story.
"PK?" she whispered, her voice smooth but trembling slightly. "Why did you really give me that much? Twenty crores... even for a Blackwell, that's not just a 'bonus.' That's a life-changer."
PK didn't open his eyes. A lazy, confident smirk played on his lips. "I told you. You handle the mess so I can handle the war. You're efficient, Riya. And in my world, efficiency is the only thing worth a premium. You deserve to be beholden to no one—not even your father."
Riya felt a surge of something stronger than gratitude. She pulled the car over into a quiet, tree-lined side street and put it in park.
"What are you doing?" PK asked, his eyes still closed.
"Just a second," she murmured.
Before PK could react, he felt the faint scent of expensive perfume grow stronger. Then, something soft and warm pressed against his lips. It was light, fleeting—a delicate touch that lasted only a second—but it sent a jolt through the car's silent cabin.
She pulled back instantly. PK didn't open his eyes. He stayed frozen, his heart skipping a beat in a way no stock market crash ever could. He knew exactly what had just happened.
A few seconds passed. PK finally opened his eyes. Riya was back in the driver's seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. Her face wasn't just red; it was a deep, burning crimson that reached the tips of her ears.
"You know..." PK said, his voice a bit rougher than usual, a flirty glint returning to his eyes. "I already have girlfriends. It's a pretty crowded house at the Manor."
Riya didn't look at him, but she tilted her head with a sudden, playful defiance. "I know. I've seen the way they look at you. And I've seen the way you look at them."
She finally turned to face him, her shyness battling with a newfound boldness. "But I'm a Blackwell, PK. We don't mind a challenge. And after today? I'm a Blackwell with twenty crores of my own. I think I can afford to wait in line."
PK let out a short, surprised laugh. "You're dangerous, Riya."
"You started it," she teased, finally shifting the car back into drive.
The Arrival
When the Rolls-Royce pulled into the Law Manor driveway, Eve was already standing on the porch, arms crossed. She had been waiting for the "commander" to return from his victory.
The car door opened, and PK stepped out, looking strangely disheveled for someone who had just won 200 crores. Riya stepped out from the driver's side to hand him his remaining shopping bags.
Eve's eyes narrowed instantly. She was like a radar for emotional shifts. She looked at Riya's face—which was still glowing a suspicious shade of pink—and then at the way Riya was looking at PK. It wasn't the look of a business associate. It was the look of someone who had just tasted something very sweet.
Eve's left eye twitched.
"You're late," Eve said, her voice dropping into a dangerously calm register.
"Business took longer than expected," PK said, avoiding Eve's piercing gaze. He felt a bead of sweat on his neck. He had just faced down three titans of industry without blinking, but Eve's stare made him want to hide behind the shopping bags.
Riya smiled at Eve—a smile that was a little too bright, a little too triumphant. "It was a very productive meeting, Eve. PK is quite the generous partner."
"I can see that," Eve remarked, her eyes darting between Riya's flushed cheeks and PK's awkward stance. "Your face is very red, Riya. Is the heater in the Rolls broken? Or did something... unexpected happen on the road?"
PK felt like a man caught with his hand in the cookie jar—except the cookie was a billionaire's daughter and the jar was a Rolls-Royce.
"Sunburn," PK blurted out. "The afternoon sun was... really intense through the glass."
Eve looked up at the sky. It was nearly twilight. "Sunburn. At 6:00 PM. In a car with tinted windows."
"Global warming is a serious issue, Eve!" PK said, grabbing his bags and practically sprinting toward the front door. "I need a shower! And a nap! Don't wait for me for dinner!"
Riya giggled, waved a playful goodbye to a fuming Eve, and hopped back into her car.
Eve stood on the porch, watching the Rolls-Royce disappear. "Global warming," she muttered to herself. "I'll give him global warming when I get him inside."