She turned to me and cleared her throat. "I'm Anjali Sharma, and I'm here for a public survey, sir." She adjusted the sling of her bag and lifted her chin confidently.

I couldn't help but smile. I tried to hold it back, but I just couldn't. My gaze flickered to the Polaroid camera in my hand.

"Videography me karlu?" I teased with a smirk, hoping to rattle her confidence. For a brief moment, her eyes flickered with hesitation, but she quickly masked it, staring straight into my eyes before looking away.

I proceeded to take out the Polaroid from the camera.

"Waise aapke gharwalon ko pata hai aap Anjali Sharma hai, Shehzadi" I exposed her effortlessly, my smirk widening as I glanced at my own face captured in the picture.

[ By the way, do your family members know that you're Anjali Sharma, Princess? ]

When I looked up, she was staring at me, her eyes wide in shock, her jaw slightly dropped.

A princess-whom I knew well-was now pretending to be Anjali Sharma, conducting a 'public survey' with a Polaroid camera and secretly taking my pictures. If that wasn't amusing, I didn't know what was.

"Shehzadi? And me?" She laughed, her confidence unwavering.

"Look," she said, straightening her posture. "If you want to believe me, fine. If not, I'm leaving."

She turned on her heel, attempting to walk away, but I glanced at Nihal. He stepped in, blocking her path.

"Leaving so soon? At least complete your survey, Ms. Anjali," I taunted, watching as she spun back around, throwing me a sharp glare.

I gestured to Nihal, signaling him to take her bag.

"You can yap all you want, but lying won't help."

Nihal grabbed the sling of her bag and pulled. She immediately lunged forward to snatch it back, but he stepped back swiftly.

As he started rummaging through it, she turned to me, her eyes burning with anger.

"Have some decency! Girls have personal things too!" she snapped, her voice raised.

I tilted my head slightly, watching her with amusement.

"We won't touch your... personal things, Ms. Anjali," I replied, mocking her tone but keeping a straight face.

Nihal finally handed me a book. It had a plain cover, nothing special at first glance. But when I flipped it open, the first thing that caught my eye was my name-written in a glitter pen.

I had captured mafia lords, exposed gangsters, and dealt with women sent by my enemies to get close to me. But this?

This was something I had never expected.

"You just said you wouldn't touch my personal things!" she huffed, lunging forward to grab the book.

I simply raised my hand higher, keeping it out of her reach. She didn't back down. Instead, she jumped, grabbing my arm and trying to pull it down with all her strength.

"I told you I won't touch your personal things," I clarified, smirking as she struggled. "But this? This is about me. So, it's not personal anymore."

Her efforts didn't waver. She continued trying to snatch the book, her fingers grazing its edges but never quite getting a grip.

"Chalo chhoti, ghar jao, Bournvita pee kar aao," I teased, chuckling at her futile attempts.

She sighed deeply and stepped back, her expression unreadable.

Did she just... give up? That easy? Impossible.

Still skeptical, I opened the book further. My smirk faded as my eyes landed on the second page. There, beneath a neatly written introduction of me, were tiny pictures-clippings, candid shots, and notes.

I blinked.

She had been... stalking me? Since last year?

"Wow," I muttered, glancing up at her. "Someone's into me." I narrowed my eyes.

Before I could gauge her reaction, she did something completely unexpected.

She slipped off her shoes and climbed into my car.

I stared, stunned.

In one swift motion, she stood on the bonnet, balancing effortlessly.

Before I could react, she reached down, attempting to snatch the book straight from my hands. I pulled it to my side just in time.

"Give it back!" she yelled, leaning down aggressively. "I won't," I replied smoothly, gripping it tighter.

And so it began. She tugged. I pulled back.

She used her weight to lean into it. I held firm.

From an outsider's perspective, the sight had to be ridiculous-me, the feared Anirudh Singh Harsana, standing there actually wrestling over a book with a girl who was now on top of my car.

My guards were watching, probably trying to decide whether to intervene or pretend this wasn't happening.

But I didn't care.

Because no matter how absurd this was, I needed to read what she had written about me.

And then, with one final tug, I accidentally pulled so hard that she lost her balance-falling straight onto me, her book still in her grip.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around her waist, trying to steady her, but the force took me down with her. My back hit the ground with a thud, and she landed right on top of me.

I swallowed hard.

She was just inches away from my face, her warm breath fanning over my skin. My eyes widened. My hand was still resting around her waist, holding her close.

Her hair cascaded down, strands brushing against my face. I could barely see her properly through the mess of her curls, but I could hear her-muttering curses under her breath, frustrated yet breathless.

For a moment, everything else faded away.

The background. The guards. The ridiculous situation. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, pounding hard against my ribs.

Then, she abruptly pulled back.

She sat on her knees, snatched the book from my hand, and shot me a glare. I was still staring at her, my mind lagging a few seconds behind reality.

"Have you gone mad? You guys really don't know the meaning of privacy," she yelled, rising to her feet.

I exhaled sharply and got up as well, dusting off my clothes.

"You're talking about privacy for the third time," I pointed out, straightening my expression. "Don't you think it's ironic coming from a stalker?"

Her eyes burned with defiance.

"I'm not a stalker," she scoffed, adjusting the strap of her bag. "And you're definitely not special enough for me to stalk."

I smirked. Hard to break her confidence, wasn't it?

"But my guards caught you, didn't they?" I leaned back against my car, crossing my arms lazily. "Now tell me-should we call the police? Or maybe your brother... what's his name? Rudraksh Kusan? Hmm?"

That got a reaction.

Her expression flickered, and she clenched her jaw. "Fine," she snapped. "Yes, I was stalking you. Happy now?"

I narrowed my eyes. She was still glaring at me, her fists clenched.

Shouldn't I be the one glaring at her?

Pulling out my phone, I calmly unlocked it. Her eyes darted to the screen. "What are you doing?" she panicked, stepping closer in an instant.

"Calling the police," I said simply, holding up the phone. "Do you know stalking someone is actually a crime, Ms. Anjali Sharma?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically but didn't say anything. Instead, she glanced down at her wristwatch.

And that's when her face dropped.

"What? What the hell?! Oh, God!" she panicked.

She shoved the book back into her bag, adjusted the sling over her shoulder, and turned on her heel, trying to rush past me. Before she could take two steps, my guards stepped into her path.

I took a slow step forward, my voice dropping into a serious tone.

"Who allowed you to leave?"

She let out a deep sigh before turning to me again. "Then what else am I supposed to do? We'll talk later-it's necessary for me to go now," she said, her tone surprisingly gentle.

I tilted my head slightly, not moving from my spot. "You haven't answer my question yet. What was your reason for stalking me?" Even though her scrapbook had already spilled the truth, I wanted to hear it from her.

"Arey, sir! Baad mein interview kar lena! Mummy bahut maaregi mujhe agar ghar late gayi toh!" she finally snapped, frustration lacing her voice.

[ Arey, sir! You can take my interview later! My mom will beat me up if I get home late. ]

I smirked. I was really enjoying this.

"No, you have to answer all my questions first," I said coolly, leaning back against the car.

"Sir, try to understand! Meri mummy bahut khatarnak hai!" she groaned, rubbing her forehead.

[ My mother is very dangerous ]

My smirk widened. "Let's punish her," I thought to myself before rolling my eyes dramatically. "I want my answers. That's all."

"Kyun ghar mein bewajah kalesh karwa rahe ho mere?! Main kya bolungi wahan?! Mera toh koi boyfriend bhi nahi hai, friend bhi nahi hai!"

[ Why are you unnecessarily creating drama at my house?! What am I supposed to say there?! I don't even have a boyfriend, not even a friend! ]

She was pacing now, her voice nearing the edge of panic.

"Bua ne toh ab tak kaan bhar diye honge, yaar," she muttered under her breath, biting her nails.

[ Aunt must have already filled their ears by now, yaar. ]

I glanced at Nihal, who was watching me with a teasing smirk. I cleared my throat and looked away. Idiot. He must be thinking I'm interested in her. But I was just punishing her. That's it.

"Kab tak ghar pahunchna hai?" I asked.

[ By what time do you have to reach home? ]

"Huh? Aath baje tak! Kisi bhi haal mein!" she said quickly, a spark of hope lighting up in her eyes.

[ Huh? By 8 o'clock! No matter what! ]

Poor her.

I shattered it in an instant. "Aadhe ghante tak yahi roko inhe," I instructed my guards, my gaze fixed on her.

[ Hold her here for the next half an hour. ]

Her excitement drained from her face instantly.

"Kamina," she muttered under her breath. [ Rascal ]

I looked away to suppress my smile. Nihal opened the car door. I sat in the passenger seat, my legs casually stretched out, watching her every reaction. Minutes passed.

She sat by the edge of the pool, her feet taping against the ground. The silence stretched between us, heavy and unusual. Even my guards were surprised-wasting time this way, just to punish a girl?

"Sir, aaj ke baad nahi karungi stalk, please jaane do. Ab bhi main zinda bach sakti hoon," she pleaded, her voice softer now.

[ Sir, I won't stalk anymore after today, please let me go. I can still survive this. ]

I shook my head immediately, crossing my arms.

"Lichadd," she muttered.

My brows furrowed. "What the hell is that?"

I know the meaning of kamina but what the fuck is Lichadd. Her language was a little weird from all of us. Her accent was little different.

She turned to me, an innocent expression masking her mischief. "It means Anirudh Singh Harsana-Mr. Annoying Harsana, Irritating Singh Harsana," she clarified sweetly, sarcasm dripping from every word.

I blinked.

And then-I burst out laughing.

A full, uncontrolled laugh that made me cover my face with my palms, trying to wipe away the slight tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

I swear to God-I had never laughed like this in my entire life. And she managed to make me do it in half an hour.

" What the hell?"

To be continued.......

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