"Boss, do you really want to go to Dubai right now?"
Riyan Raichand looked at his PA, Akhil. Clenching his jaw in irritation, he snapped,
"What nonsense, Akhil! We're already sitting in the flight to Dubai, and you're asking me such questions?"
Akhil, startled by his boss's anger, quickly apologized,
"Boss, you're misunderstanding me. Actually, I'm nervous because Mrs. Raichand—your mother—has given me the mission of getting you married. And if you reject all the girls again this time, she'll fire me for sure. And let's face it, Boss, who else do I have in this world besides you?"
Saying this, Akhil began massaging Riyan's shoulders. Riyan, now clearly irritated, said,
"Stop it, Akhil. Cut the drama."
Seeing his boss's furious face, Akhil quietly brought his hands down and sat straight.
Riyan Rishikesh Raichand, also known as RRR, was not just Dubai's biggest businessman, but also the underground mafia king. At only 24 years of age, he had achieved everything by his own grit and intelligence.
Tall, dark and dangerously handsome—6'4", square jaw, killer dark green eyes, sharp nose, fair skin with a light beard, slim yet muscular body. His chest and arms were inked with tattoos—some animal, some mysterious Italian symbols—that made him look both attractive and intimidating.
Riyan leaned back comfortably in his seat.
The flight was just about to take off, when he suddenly heard a soft, trembling voice:
"Oh Lord, please take me safely to Dubai. I promise I'll never take a flight again. Just let me reach my friend this last time. Please, let this plane fly safely, don't let any fan fall off, don't let the engine stall. What if this flight gets hijacked?! Dear God, save this innocent doll of yours!"
Riyan leaned forward and looked toward the voice. Two seats across from him sat a girl—alone, frightened, mumbling prayers. This was the business class, and clearly she didn't belong here. She sat nervously with her hands folded, eyes shut tight in fear.
Riyan couldn't look away.
She wore a simple yellow salwar suit, her long hair braided neatly, big glasses on her eyes, dangling earrings, and anklets with traditional Mojari slippers on her feet. She looked like a girl straight out of a village, flying for the first time. A scared yet angelic face, sharp nose, and heart-shaped lips—he suddenly felt an urge to touch her.
As his gaze moved from her face to her slender neck, then to her collarbone, and finally rested on the curvaceous swell of her chest, he noticed a tiny mole right in the middle. Something about it made his heart skip a beat.
She was sitting alone.
Riyan signaled the air hostess and got his seat changed—and came to sit beside her.
The girl still had her eyes shut tightly in fear, shivering slightly. As the flight began to take off...
She suddenly screamed out loud,
"HELP! HELP! I can't be on this flight. I don't want to go to Dubai! Please someone get me off this plane. I don't want to die! I'm too young to die. This flight will crash into the Indian Ocean. I don't even know how to swim!"
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Who is this girl?
Will she get off the flight?
Or will Riyan be the one to help her?
How will their first meeting unfold?
Stay tuned to find out...