The cold porcelain of the sink did nothing to quell the volcanic inferno roaring beneath Vidya Balan’s skin.
She stood inside the dimly lit private executive washroom of Maya Mirage Productions.
Her palms trembling as she braced herself against the marble counter.
Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs in ragged, suffocating gasps.
The heavy silk of her mustard-yellow saree clinging to the slick sweat pooling between her breasts.
“Hey Devi Maa…” Vidya whimpered, pressing a cold, wet hand against her burning throat.
“How can any mortal man carry something so monstrously huge…?”
Her mind was trapped in an inescapable, hypnotic loop.
She remembered the sight:
The 6’3″ titan standing with effortless poise, his dark denim dropped to mid-thigh, unbothered and unashamed.
When she had accidentally kicked that door wide, Rudra hadn’t flinched.
He hadn’t scrambled like a caught schoolboy.
He had simply looked her in the eye with those mesmerizing, liquid-gold irises.
His full lips curling into that devastating, roguish Casanova smirk that seemed to strip away a woman’s sanity in three seconds flat.
And then- the iron monolith itself.
The colossal, heavily veined girth of his Carnal Dick.
Vidya’s thighs clamped tightly together as an involuntary, scalding tremor rippled through her chocolate brown pussy.
Her mouth felt bone-dry, her tongue darting out to lick her chapped lips.
She had seen Mohini Kashyap- the cold, calculating demoness who treated studio moguls like disposable pawns- kneeling on the Persian rug like a starved, devout priestess.
Her eyes rolled back in carnal delirium, catching that glistening, pearlescent drop of ambrosia on her pink tongue with a wanton whimper.
An illicit affair in the production office…
while Mohan steps down the hall, Vidya thought, her heart hammering against her chest.
‘I know this industry runs on open arrangements and behind-closed-doors depravity…
but this wasn’t just cheap lust.
Mohini looked like she wanted to spend eternity swallowing his soul.’
BAM!
The washroom door was shoved open, the brass handle rebounding violently off the tiled wall!
Vidya gasped, spinning around defensively!
Leaning against the doorframe, slightly out of breath.
Her silk kurti dishevelled and her chest heaving, was Mohini.
Vidya’s face detonated into a fiery, mortified crimson.
“Mohini…
I—I am so deeply sorry!
I didn’t mean to barge in, the door was unlatched—”
Mohini leaned back her head and let out a rich, throaty chuckle, waving a dismissive, manicured hand.
“Relax, Vidya,” Mohini purred, stepping inside and locking the deadbolt with a soft click.
“Though I have to admit, your timing was catastrophic.”
“I was right in the middle of enjoying my evening refreshment…
just about to sink my teeth and roll my tongue into a dark chocolate cream roll and drink some concentrated, iron-rich energy nectar straight from the tap.”
Vidya’s jaw hung slack.
Her cheeks burned even hotter.
She had signed with Maya Mirage precisely because Mohini had a legendary reputation for being ruthlessly disciplined, protective of her female artists, and completely immune to the sleazy casting-couch culture of Versova.
Yet here she was, openly bragging about kneeling before a twenty-year-old boy.
Mohini stepped up beside her at the mirror, checking her reflection with a satisfied smirk.
“Ask whatever you want, Vidya.
You caught me red-handed, and I don’t waste time lying to my lead artists.”
“Yes, that boy is Rudra.
The same Rockstar God who set Mumbai on fire last night.”
Vidya swallowed hard, her voice a fragile whisper:
“Who is he, Mohini?
Truly?”
Mohini crossed her arms, pushing her breasts upward beneath the emerald silk.
Her eyes turning serious:
“He is Jackie Dada’s hidden son.
The real bloodline of the Shroff house.”
Vidya’s eyes widened in genuine shock.
“Jaggu Dada’s boy…?”
The pieces aligned with terrifying clarity.
The towering Olympian build, the aristocratic bone structure, the effortless street swagger.
He carried the concentrated essence of Jackie Shroff’s raw masculinity and Ayesha Shroff’s ethereal grace.
“Why are you telling me all this, Mohini?” Vidya asked, her gaze searching her producer’s face.
“You could have threatened me, or demanded my silence.”
“Why lay out his entire identity?”
Mohini’s smile softened into something ancient and reverent.
“Because Rudra told me to,” Mohini answered quietly.
“He respect your craft, Vidya.”
“Long before you walked through those doors, he told me that you are one of the rare, generational artists in this country who can breathe genuine blood and fire into a character.”
“He is the one who forced me to sign Jaideep and Vijay.”
“I looked at them and saw two starving strugglers; Rudra looked at them and saw two diamonds waiting to cut glass.”
Vidya’s breath caught in her throat.
She turned her gaze toward the frosted glass window, remembering the profound, bleeding sorrow in his voice during Sawaare.
“He sees through people…”
“He isn’t a mere mortal, Vidya,” Mohini whispered, stepping close, her voice dropping into an intoxicating, velvety register.
“You saw the primal fire in his voice…
but that’s barely a fraction of what he carries.
Soon, he will swallow this entire industry whole.”
“And let’s be honest between two women…
you saw what was standing between his legs.”
Vidya’s cheeks flushed instantly, her gaze dropping to the floor tiles.
Mohini chuckled, resting a warm, manicured hand on Vidya’s bare shoulder, leaning in until her breath grazed Vidya’s ear.
“Vidya…
if you want to taste him, just say the word.
He won’t turn you away.”
“He respects you.
And please, don’t play the shy, virtuous lady with me.
I saw your face in that doorway.”
“Your lips were parted, your breath was ragged, and your throat was dry like a woman dying of thirst.”
Vidya’s pulse hammered in her temples.
She tried to muster a polite, defensive protest, but her vocal cords refused to obey.
“Look at me, Vidya,” Mohini urged, her hazel eyes gleaming with dark, generous temptation.
“You know how ruthless I am.
Yet I bent my knees for that boy because one taste of his presence ruins you for every ordinary man alive.”
“Right now, you are single.
Right now, he is right here.
Within six months, every reigning queen in Bollywood will be clawing at his clothes.”
“Take your claim now, before the line stretches around the block.
Come with me…
I promise you won’t regret a single second.”
Mohini reached down, taking Vidya’s hand.
Vidya stood frozen.
Every rational, conservative instinct in her mind screamed at her to pull away, to walk back to the rehearsal hall, to protect her dignified standing.
Yet her fingers remained limp, locked in Mohini’s warm grip.
‘Why isn’t my body stopping…?’ Vidya thought in a daze, a heavy, scalding wetness soaking her silk undergarments.
‘I want to feel him…
but he is so impossibly huge!
How could something that massive even fit into my throat, let alone between my thighs…?’
Mohini sensed the internal surrender, a triumphant, wicked smirk curling across her lips.
“Don’t worry about the size, darling.
The female body is an altar built to stretch around a god.”
“Move fast, before he slips away-I literally locked him in my room!”
Mohini tugged, dragging the voluptuous actress out into the corridor!
Vidya stumbled along, her mind spinning.
‘Hey Devi Maa…
Am I genuinely about to share a twenty-year-old titan with my own producer?!
What kind of mad dream is this…?!’
They rounded the corner into the sunlit reception bay—
And ground to an immediate, screeching halt!
Standing near the main exit, dressed in his dark windbreaker, wearing his sunglasses and mask, was Rudra.
He was casually shaking hands with Mohan, who was laughing and nodding in deep, deferential respect.
While Jaideep and Vijay stood beside them, waving their goodbyes!
Rudra turned his head toward the corridor.
Catching sight of Mohini dragging a thoroughly flushed, wide-eyed Vidya Balan by the wrist.
A devilish, unrepentant Casanova glint flashed behind his dark lenses.
He gave them a crisp, two-finger salute, followed by a slow, knowing wink that made Vidya’s knees nearly buckle!
“RUDRA!
DON’T YOU DARE RUN AWAY!” Mohini shrieked in volcanic outrage, dropping all executive decorum!
“YOU PROMISED ME MY REWARD!
YOU OWE ME MY LOLLIPOP!”
She broke into an all-out sprint, violently dragging Vidya behind her!
“YELP!” Vidya squeaked.
In the driveway.
Jaideep and Vijay’s jaws dropped straight to the floor, staring in paralyzed, horrified shock!
Beside them.
Mohan blinked, scratching his chin in total confusion, staring at the black USB drive clutched in his hand:
“Lollipop…?
But didn’t he just hand us a software plugin that saves fifty lakhs in grading costs?”
“How is that not the ultimate reward for today…?”
(Ten Minutes Earlier — Mohini’s Office)
Rudra had stood in the centre of the private suite, watching the door click shut as Mohini raced after Vidya.
A low, rumbling chuckle had escaped his chest as he looked down at his unyielding Carnal Dick, casually pulling his cotton briefs and dark denims back over his hips, fastening the belt.
“Can’t leave the door unlatched in an office full of hungry predators,” Rudra mused, shaking his head.
“If Mohan walked in and caught a glimpse of this, the poor man’s masculine pride would never recover.”
His golden eyes had drifted toward the discarded contact sheets on the floor, picking up a glossy black-and-white headshot of Vidya Balan.
‘In two years, she will deliver The Dirty Picture,’ Rudra thought, tracing the bold, earthy curves of her portrait.
‘She will sweep the National Award, the Filmfare, and the IIFA, breaking the glass ceiling for female-led cinema before the industry’s calcified formulas begin to box her in.”
“But under my watch, she won’t have to wait two years for her coronation.
Jaideep, Vijay, and Ishqiya will lay the foundation today.’
CLICK.
The deadbolt turned, and Mohan stepped into the room, holding his MacBook Pro.
His eyes glowing with manic, fanatical excitement!
“Rudra!
My God, man!” Mohan practically lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Rudra’s shoulders in a desperate, grateful hug!
“The AS-Engine is a miracle!
It processed the raw Alexa footage in real time!”
“How many years did you spend coding this architecture in secret?!”
Rudra smirked, clapping Mohan’s shoulder.
“Now you understand why I kept my head down for so long, Mohan.
True power isn’t built in the spotlight; it’s forged in the dark.”
Mohan nodded solemnly, his mind rapidly connecting the dots.
The industry rumours had always painted Jackie Dada’s son as an introverted tech geek hiding behind thick spectacles; now, Mohan realized the young prince had spent years quietly building the digital infrastructure to conquer the modern era.
“Maya Mirage belongs to your vision, Rudra,” Mohan swore, his hand over his heart.
“Whatever you build, we stand behind you.”
“Good,” Rudra’s voice dropped into a low, commanding register that chilled the air.
“I picked Maya Mirage because you two understand the cutthroat rules of the game without crossing sacred boundaries.”
“You’re a playboy, Mohan, but you don’t force women.
And Mohini carries the scars of a survivor.
Respect her.”
“Don’t ever let her down.”
“I swear it, Rudra,” Mohan promised, his tone dead serious.
“Where are Jaideep and Vijay?” Rudra smiled, the tension evaporating.
“I want to greet my actors.”
“In the dressing room down the hall,” Mohan gestured.
Inside the narrow changing quarters.
Jaideep Ahlawat and Vijay Varma were slumped across two folding chairs.
Their shirts soaked with sweat from the gruelling wardrobe fittings.
Yet their rugged faces were split with wide, ecstatic grins.
“Did you see Mohan sir’s face when he plugged that black drive into the monitor, Jaideep bhai?” Vijay laughed, rubbing his aching calves.
“Our skin looked like liquid bronze on the screen!
It didn’t look like cheap digital video; it looked like an expensive European film!”
Jaideep grunted, wiping his brow with a towel.
“That drive must carry proprietary colour software worth fifty lakhs.
Did you see how tightly Mohan sir clutched it?”
“Like it was a newborn baby.”
Vijay chuckled, but his eyes glazed over again, a dreamy sigh leaving his lips.
“Bhai…
Vidya ji was so breathtaking when she walked in…
Her saree…
the way she smelled of sandalwood…”
“If you start with that randaap again, I will throw my boot at your face,” Jaideep warned, his Haryanvi brow twitching dangerously.
KNOCK-KNOCK.
A small, leather-bound notebook and an ink pen poked through the half-open door.
“Excuse me, sir…
May I have your very first autograph, Vijay sir?
Jaideep sir?” a deep, velvet baritone rumbled from the corridor.
Vijay’s heart skipped a beat!
A massive, smug grin split across his face.
He sat up straight, clearing his throat with supreme, arrogant theatricality, snatching the pen.
“See that, Jaideep?
True talent commands respect before the movie even wraps!”
“Don’t worry, young fan, you are blessed to receive my maiden signature!
Treasure it for life!”
Vijay scrawled his name with a dramatic flourish, handing the book back.
“What is your name, young man?”
A quiet, familiar chuckle echoed from the doorway.
“You already know my name, Vijay bhai.”
Vijay and Jaideep froze.
The door swung wide.
Stepping into the small room was the 6’3″ titan himself, his golden eyes dancing with radiant, mischievous warmth.
“RUDRA?!”
Both actors shot up from their chairs as if electrocuted!
“Rudra, you bastard!” Jaideep roared, throwing his massive arms around the youth in a crushing bear hug!
Vijay threw himself into the embrace from the other side, laughing through sudden, emotional tears.
“Yesterday you were standing in the audition line with us…
and today you’re the Rockstar God of the entire nation!”
“We nearly got lynched by fifty of your rabid fan-girls on our way here!”
Rudra laughed, his rich baritone filling the cramped room as Jaideep jokingly threw a punch into his shoulder.
THUD.
“Ouch!
Bhenchod!” Jaideep winced violently, clutching his knuckles as if he had just driven his fist into a slab of reinforced concrete!
“What do you eat, man?!
Crushed gravel and steel?!”
Rudra threw his arms around Vijay, pretending to sob with exaggerated, tragic melodrama.
“Vijay bhai!
Look at how cruel this brute is!
How do you live with this violent Jat every day?!”
Vijay immediately played along, wiping imaginary tears:
“He abuses me, Rudra!
He abandoned me to the female mob this morning!”
“He ran like a coward while fifty girls tried to rip my clothes off!”
The three young men burst into uproarious, side-splitting laughter.
The cramped room ringing with pure, unadulterated brotherhood.
“So why are you here, Rudra?” Vijay asked, adjusting his collar.
“Did Mohini ma’am call you for an audition?”
Rudra smiled, his gaze turning tranquil and mysterious.
“She offered to build me a portfolio yesterday…
but today she realized I don’t need one.”
Vijay nodded, looking at him with deep, earnest curiosity.
“What do you actually want to be, Rudra?
A rockstar who fills stadiums, or an actor who commands the screen?”
Rudra’s golden eyes flared with quiet, ancient fire.
“Why should a king choose one throne when the entire empire belongs to him?”
Vijay grinned, slapping his thigh.
“Mark my words, bhai…
I have a gut feeling.”
“Some visionary director is going to walk up to you with a tragic rockstar script, where you play a heartbroken singer tearing the world apart.”
Rudra stared at Vijay, thoroughly amused by the man’s eerie, accidental prophecy.
‘If only you knew, Babban…
Imtiaz already sat at my breakfast table this morning.’
“If that prophecy comes true, Vijay,” Rudra smiled.
“I’m dragging you and Jaideep straight to the house for my mother’s mutton curry.”
“Deal!”
They exchanged warm, lingering hugs as Rudra pulled his dark sunglasses and mask back into place, preparing to depart.
He paused at the door, tossing a teasing wink over his shoulder.
“And Vijay bhai…
ease up on the flirting with Vidya ji.”
“She’s a senior thespian; don’t get yourself fired on day one.”
Jaideep nodded sagely, cuffing Vijay’s ear.
“Listen to the rockstar, you pervert.” Find the original chapter at g.com.
Rudra gave them a final wave, stepping out into the courtyard toward the parking lot.
Watching his broad, masked back disappear into the golden afternoon haze.
Vijay let out a slow, reverent sigh.
“Jaideep bhai…
Joh bhi bolo, Rudra mein kuch toh aisi baat hai…
lagta hai sadiyon se jaante hain usse.”
“Kaash Rajkumar bhi yahan hota, usse bhi milkar bohot sukoon milta.”
(Jaideep brother…
Say whatever you will, there is something truly divine about Rudra…
It feels like our souls have known him for lifetimes; I wish Rajkumar was here too, his spirit would have found so much peace meeting him.)
Jaideep stared at the empty lane, remembering Arijit Singh’s tear-soaked television tribute.
His voice dropping into a heavy, respectful murmur.
“Iss bande ka dil bohot bada hai, Vijay…
Aur uske seene mein jo dard chupa hai na, hum uski gehraai soch bhi nahi sakte.”
(That boy’s heart is vast as the ocean, Vijay…; And the mountain of sorrow locked behind his ribs is far deeper than our mortal minds could ever fathom.)
Vijay’s eyes softened, nodding slowly.
“Mahaan kalakaar sach kehte hain…
kuch bada karne ke liye bohot kuch tyaag karna padta hai.
Rudra ne apni aatma ka ek hissa khoya hai…
aisa kuch jiski hum kalpana bhi nahi kar sakte.”
(The legendary thespians are right…
To birth monumental art, one must pay in sacred sacrifice; Rudra has lost a piece of his very soul…
an ancient tragedy far beyond our comprehension.)
Jaideep rested a heavy, comforting palm on Vijay’s shoulder, a rough, affectionate grin breaking through his stoicism.
“Abey Vijay…
Ab tu kuch zyaada hi emotional ho raha hai!
Woh Rudra hai, aur hum uske bhai log hain!
Chal ab hass, tu mujhe chutiya hi accha lagta hai!”
(Hey Vijay…
Now you’re getting ridiculously sentimental!; He is Rudra, and we are his sworn brothers!; Now smile, you idiot, you look much better being a fool!)
Vijay laughed, clapping Jaideep’s back as Mohan approached them with a wide, triumphant grin.
Suddenly—
“RUDRA!
TU MUJHE CHHOD KAR NAHI JAA SAKTA!
MUJHE MERA LOLLIPOP CHAHIYE, MERA INAAM CHAHIYE ABHI KE ABHI!
RUDRAAAAA!”
(RUDRA!
YOU CANNOT ABANDON ME LIKE THIS!; I DEMAND MY LOLLIPOP, I DEMAND MY REWARD RIGHT THIS INSTANT!; RUDRAAAAA!)
The three men froze in utter, paralyzed horror.
Tearing around the corner of the bungalow was Mohini Kashyap.
Her hair wild, her heels clicking violently, dragging a completely flushed, breathless Vidya Balan by the wrist like a runaway chariot!
“RUDRA!
VIDYA KO BHI APNA LOLLIPOP CHAHIYE!
AAJ MAIN TUJHE JAANE NAHI DOONGI!”
(RUDRA!
VIDYA WANTS HER TASTE OF THE LOLLIPOP TOO!; I AM NOT LETTING YOU ESCAPE TODAY!)
Vijay’s jaw dropped so violently his tongue nearly unhinged!
His eyes bugged out of his skull as he watched his revered goddess—Vidya Balan, draped in yellow silk.
Her face burning with helpless, blushing shame-being dragged toward the parking gates!
“Yeh…
yeh Rudra ek number ka bhadwa aur randibaaz hai!” Vijay wailed in catastrophic, heart-broken despair!
“Saala shaadi-shuda producer aurat uski deewani hai…
aur meri Vidya ji ko bhi chheen liya usne!”
“Main iss kameene ke liye ro raha tha?!”
(This…
this Rudra is an absolute, unadulterated gigolo bastard!; The married producer woman is foaming at the mouth for him…
and now he stole my Vidya ji too!; And I was standing here weeping tears of sympathy for this scoundrel?!)
Jaideep stared at his friend, utterly bewildered.
“Saale!
Tu toh abhi do second pehle uske dard par shlok padh raha tha!
Achanak se kya daura pad gaya tujhe?!”
(You bastard!; You were literally reciting Vedic hymns about his tragic soul two seconds ago!; What kind of psychiatric seizure just hit you?!)
Vijay crossed his arms, staring with burning, venomous jealousy at the departing sports car.
His voice dropping into deadpan, philosophical gravity.
“Joh har dost ko hota hai apne dost se…
duniya ki sabse badi bimari.
Joh tujhe bhi hai mujhse, par mujhe ab Rudra se ho rahi hai.”
(The ancient affliction that every friend catches from another…
the greatest disease on earth; The exact sickness you suffer from looking at me, but I am now catching from Rudra.)
Jaideep’s brow twitched.
“What disease, you clown?”
Vijay locked eyes with Jaideep, whispering with dramatic, theatrical venom:
“JALAN!
Jab koi dost aage nikal jaata hai na…
toh khushi se zyaada JALAN hoti hai!”
(JEALOUSY!; When a brother pulls ahead of you in life…
the jealousy burns a thousand times hotter than the joy!)
Jaideep blinked.
Then, the full force of Haryanvi rage detonated behind his temples!
“BSDK!
MUJHE TERE SE KIS BAAT KI JALAN HOGI?!”
(YOU MOTHERLESS BASTARD!; WHAT IN GOD’S NAME WOULD I EVER BE JEALOUS OF YOU FOR?!)
Vijay flicked his messy fringe back, winking with supreme, arrogant narcissism:
“Meri khoobsurti se!”
(My divine, breathtaking beauty!)
“VIJAY!
AAJ TU NAHI BACHEGA MERE HAATHO!” Jaideep roared like a wounded tiger, lunging forward!
“Tere jaise suar ke pille se jalan?!
Mujhe ulti karne ka mann kar raha hai!
Ram-Ram!!
Yeh kya gandi bawasir sun li maine?!”
(VIJAY!
TODAY YOU WILL NOT LEAVE THIS COMPOUND ALIVE!; Jealous of a pig’s whelp like you?!; I want to violently vomit on this pavement!;Ram-Ram What kind of rotten verbal diarrhea did I just endure?!)
Vijay shrieked, sprinting toward the street gates as Jaideep charged after him with a flying sandal in hand.
Their chaotic bickering echoing across the Versova cul-de-sac!
Meanwhile — The Carter Road Promenade (Sunset)
The sapphire-black BMW M5 sliced through the amber coastal twilight at a smooth, commanding cruise.
Rudra rested one hand atop the steering wheel, the cool evening sea breeze whipping through the open window.
With his other hand, his thumb gently caressed the dark Rudraksha beads resting against his collarbone.
Looking out over the glowing horizon where the sun melted into the Arabian Sea.
A faint, ancient smile touched his lips.
“The foundation stones are laid, Sati…” Rudra whispered into the quiet cabin.
“Vijay and Jaideep are locked.
Maya Mirage is tethered to my hand.”
“The industry thinks I am an innocent prince stepping into the light…
but tomorrow morning, the first real earthquake arrives.”
He thought of Imtiaz Ali walking into the executive boardrooms of Eros International.
He knew the corporate suits would sneer at an untested outsider; he knew the Kapoor’s held deep commercial leverage; and he knew that when the studio doors slammed in the director’s face.
The desperate auteur would have only one sanctuary left to seek.
A slow, devastating smirk curved across Rudra’s chiselled face.
His liquid-gold irises blazing with unyielding ambition.
“Tomorrow morning…
the real hunt begins.”
VROOOOOOOOOOM!
The twin-turbo V8 roared into the dusk, carrying the God of Bollywood toward his destiny.
[ Chapter End ]
Author’s Note:
Well, this chapter closes on laughter and temptation… but from the next one, the lights go out.
Darkness is coming, the kind no Bollywood novel has ever dared to touch.
I will show you the pain of writers – the heartbreak of Imtiaz Ali, who only wanted to create his film, and the storm Rudra already sees coming.
🔥 Hint for the new heroine: “Ashiqui girl is coming, baby.”
Alongside her, two broken brothers of music legacy, betrayed by their own uncle.
Connect the dots — you’ll see what’s about to explode.
And yes, the Prince of Kapoor enters the arena… but this time, he stands against Rudra.
Everything is tasteless, just like Mohini warned and I’m going to enjoy writing every drop of this chaos.
Warda arrives too, with her unhinged lust, and the clash between her and Mohini will make you bite your fingers in shock.
Brace yourselves.
The happiness ends here.
The real Bollywood darkness begins now.