The massive teak doors were locked, and the Haveli had finally fallen into a deep, respectful silence. The room was a sanctuary of flickering oil lamps and the heavy, intoxicating scent of five quintals of fresh jasmine and red roses strewn across the grand bed.

Vikram Singh, the man who made the strongest men in Chandanpur tremble with a single look, was currently sitting on the edge of the bed, his heart thumping like a schoolboy's. He had removed his heavy sherwani, standing now in his white silk undershirt and dhoti, his muscular shoulders bunched with anticipation.