8 pack abs and muscular body.There is no space of emotions, feeling and especially love in his life . He doesn't like changes in his life either personal or professional .
This man, in his late twenties, is the embodiment of silent power and unshakable authority. Towering in height, his tall, cylindrical frame is packed with dense, well-defined muscle, sculpted through years of discipline and relentless training. His physique is nothing short of intimidating—broad shoulders, a chiseled chest, and an eight-pack carved like stone, a testament to his unwavering dedication.
His face is a masterpiece of sharp, masculine features. A razor-sharp jawline frames his expressionless face, giving him a cold, unreadable look that only adds to his enigmatic presence. His charcoal-black eyes are piercing, deep pools of intensity that seem to hold a thousand unspoken thoughts. They scan his surroundings with an analytical precision, making those around him feel exposed, as if he can see right through them.
His aura is dark, heavy, and suffocating—commanding attention without a single word. He doesn’t need to speak often; his mere presence demands respect. Every movement he makes is calculated, deliberate, and exudes an air of authority that cannot be questioned. He is responsible, a man who takes his duties seriously and never falters in the face of pressure.
Despite his intimidating exterior, there’s a sense of controlled restraint within him. His emotions are locked away behind his stoic mask, never slipping, never revealing weakness. He is a force to be reckoned with—unbreakable, untouchable, and utterly dominant in both presence and power.
The room was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. Rudraksh Singh Ranawat sat behind his mahogany desk, his cold gray eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop. His office was as sterile as his demeanor—minimalistic and devoid of personal touches. No family photos, no awards, just functionality.
A knock interrupted his focus. "Come in," he said, his tone clipped and unwelcoming.
His assistant, Clara, entered hesitantly, clutching a folder. She seemed perpetually nervous around him, though he neither noticed nor cared.
"Mr. Ranawat" she began, her voice trembling slightly, "these are the quarterly reports you requested. Also, the charity gala organizers called to confirm your attendance tonight."
He looked up, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "I don’t care about the gala, Clara. Send a check and make it clear I’m not attending. My time isn’t for frivolities."
"But sir, it’s important for the company's public image—"
"I said no," he interrupted, his voice icy. "I don’t have time for pointless small talk and staged smiles. Let the PR team handle it."
Clara nodded quickly, backing away as if retreating from a predator. He returned his attention to the screen without another word, already dismissing her presence from his mind.
Love, happiness, charity—he considered them all distractions, sentimental nonsense for people with too much time and too little ambition.
As he typed, a notification pinged. An old college acquaintance had sent a message: "Hope you’re doing well, Rudraksh. It’s been a while. Let’s catch up soon."
He stared at it for a moment before closing the chat window without replying. What was the point? Friendship was just another drain on resources.
The phone on his desk buzzed. It was his accountant, reminding him of an upcoming investment opportunity. That was what mattered—numbers, profits, growth. Emotions and connections were liabilities in his world.
Rudraksh leaned back, his expression unchanging, his thoughts as mechanical as the ticking clock. This was his life, and he had no intention of altering it. He collected his stuff and laptop and headed towards to his penthouse nearby office .
This is the life of THE RUDRAKSH SINGH RANAWAT.
Will he gonna change ?? Will his heart beat like a normal human being ?? His past his complicated and mysterious . Will she be able to solve the mystery?
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