Chapter 3 — Manik’s Calculations

Manik

The first emotion Manik registered as he entered his study was irritation. It hummed faintly beneath his skin, a whisper of discontent that sharpened his already frayed patience. The room was meticulously ordered, every surface gleaming under the low, amber glow of a desk lamp. Shadows clung to the corners, as though reluctant to fully retreat under the light. The faint scent of polished wood and aged leather lingered—symbols of authority and tradition, yet suffocating in their weight. This was his haven, his space of control, but tonight it felt oppressively small.

The heavy door clicked shut behind him, the sound reverberating in the quiet space. Manik crossed the room with measured steps, his shoes whispering against the dark oak floors. His movements were deliberate, as always—a studied reflection of his need for precision. But tonight, even his control felt tenuous, his body coiled with a tension he couldn’t quite dispel.

He poured himself a drink without thought, the amber liquid catching the dim light as it swirled in the crystal glass. Turning to face the window overlooking the estate gardens, Manik let his gaze drift into the darkness. The security lights beyond threw faint, measured beams across the grounds, steady and unblinking. The fortress-like estate was a reflection of everything he’d built: calculated, unyielding, impenetrable. And yet, something had shifted.

*Marini Rossi.*

Her name echoed in his mind, sharp and relentless. He had encountered defiance before, of course. Men who leaned on bravado, pretending to hold their ground until his gaze alone stripped them bare. But her defiance wasn’t a performance. It was quiet, simmering just beneath the surface, unyielding even in the face of fear. It was... unsettling. She wasn’t like the others. And that thought gnawed at him.

Manik sank into the leather chair behind his desk, the drink cool against his palm. His jaw tightened as his father’s voice surfaced in his mind, sharp and unrelenting: *Control is everything, Manik. Lose control, and you lose everything.*

He’d learned that lesson the hard way. His father’s betrayal had carved it into his very being, a scar that shaped every decision he had made since. Trust was a risk he couldn’t afford. Weakness was a luxury he couldn’t indulge. And yet, here she was, unraveling his carefully constructed world with nothing more than her defiance.

The subtle creak of the study door pulled him from his thoughts. Cabir stepped inside, his movements quiet, though Manik had sensed him moments earlier. The other man’s calm, easy confidence was a stark contrast to the tension Manik wrestled with.

“You’re distracted,” Cabir said, his voice low, measured.

Manik didn’t immediately reply, lifting his glass instead and taking a slow drink. The burn was grounding, a reminder of the control he refused to relinquish. “Reflective,” he corrected, his tone clipped. “There’s a difference.”

Cabir crossed the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. He stopped near the desk, leaning casually against its edge. His dark eyes studied Manik, assessing. “Reflective, distracted—call it whatever you want. The girl’s got you thinking.”

Manik’s grip on the glass tightened imperceptibly. He was careful about his body language, careful not to show the flicker of unease Cabir’s words sparked. “She has a name.”

Cabir raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the sharpness in Manik’s tone. “Fine. *Marini.* She’s still a problem. Arun thinks—”

“Arun thinks with his fists,” Manik interrupted, irritation flaring briefly. “Killing her solves nothing.”

“That’s debatable,” Cabir replied, his tone light but edged with meaning. “Keeping her alive doesn’t exactly scream ‘problem solved’ either. She’s a liability, and liabilities in our world don’t end well.”

The word grated against Manik. *Liability.* It was accurate, painfully so. Marini was a loose thread, and loose threads didn’t belong in his world. Yet, he had spared her—a decision he had made on instinct, one he couldn’t entirely explain even to himself. And now, the consequences of that choice loomed like a specter in the room.

“She witnessed the alley,” Cabir continued, his voice quiet but insistent. “She knows too much. Alessandro would tear her apart if he even caught wind of her presence.”

Manik’s brow furrowed, tension coiling in his chest. Alessandro Vitale. The name itself was a toxin, a reminder of the constant threat posed by the rival family. Alessandro thrived on exploiting weakness, on finding the cracks in even the most fortified defenses. If he discovered Marini...

“She’s not like the others,” Manik said finally, the words escaping before he could stop them.

Cabir’s gaze sharpened, curiosity flickering in his expression. “And that’s supposed to make this easier?”

“No,” Manik admitted, his voice low. “It makes it harder.”

The silence that followed was heavy, a weight neither man seemed eager to lift. Cabir’s dark eyes lingered on Manik, as though searching for answers he wasn’t yet ready to give.

“You’re not one to hesitate,” Cabir said, breaking the quiet. His tone was careful, but the challenge was clear.

Manik met his gaze, his expression hardening. “I’m not hesitating.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Manik rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He set his glass down with a sharp clink and moved to the window, staring out at the shadowed gardens. The faint hum of the estate’s security system thrummed in his ears, a constant reminder of the fortress he commanded. And yet, even fortresses had their vulnerabilities.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

Cabir’s lips quirked into a faint, humorless smile. “That’s why she’s dangerous. Strong people don’t break. They push back.”

Manik’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling against the windowsill. He didn’t need the reminder. Marini’s strength was precisely what made her both a threat and... something more. Something he couldn’t yet define.

“You don’t trust her,” Cabir said, his tone even.

“No,” Manik replied, his voice cold, definitive.

“Then why keep her alive?”

The question hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting. Manik’s gaze remained fixed on the darkness outside. The reasons churned in his mind, fragmented and elusive. Was it her resilience? Her refusal to crumble? Or was it something deeper, something he wasn’t prepared to confront?

“She’s an enigma,” he said finally, the admission quiet, almost reluctant.

Cabir snorted softly, shaking his head. “You’re playing with fire, Manik. Don’t let her burn you.”

Manik turned, his expression icy, unyielding. “I don’t burn.”

Cabir pushed off the desk, his movements unhurried. “Just remember,” he said as he reached the door, “fire doesn’t discriminate. It consumes everything, even the things you think are untouchable.”

The door closed softly behind him, leaving Manik alone once more. For a moment, the silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. His gaze drifted to the edge of the desk, where the stiletto blade rested, its ornate hilt catching the faint light. He reached out, his fingers brushing the leather grip. The blade was a symbol of everything he valued—authority, precision, control. But tonight, it felt like a question he couldn’t answer.

Marini Rossi was a liability. A threat.

And yet, as he stood there, the faint hum of the security system in his ears, he couldn’t shake the thought that she might also be something else entirely.