Chapter 9
Amber
If Sairaj wants to play games, fine. He has no idea who he's up against.
Since he didn't bother explaining the blonde, I don't owe him an explanation either. He thinks he can parade around with his women while expecting me to stay leashed? No. If he wants a fight, I'll show him just how powerful the queen is on the board.
I won't marry him. I refuse. And if the only way out is to play by mafia rules, then I'll make my own move.
Breakfast is quiet, the soft clatter of cutlery against plates filling the tension-laced air. Inaya is beside me, yawning into her cup of tea, while Alekha scrolls through her phone. I poke at my food, mind already working on my next move, when the sound of heavy boots fills the space.
Sairaj.
I know it's him before I even look up. His presence is an undeniable force, thick and suffocating. But he's not alone. Another man walks in with him-Ranvijay Singh Rajvanshi.
My grip tightens on my spoon.
Rajvanshi. Powerful. Ruthless. A man just as much my enemy as he is my ticket out.
I lift my gaze, and he's already looking at me. Not with the same unreadable intensity as Sairaj, but with a slow, knowing smirk. He's handsome, in the way most mafia men are-sharp, dangerous, and exuding a confidence that comes with knowing he owns the room.
Good. He'll do.
I rise from my chair, smoothing down the silk of my dress as I make my way toward them. I feel Sairaj's gaze burning into me, but I don't stop.
"Mister Rajvanshi," I greet, my voice smooth, polite. "Heard a lot about you."
He takes my hand, bowing slightly as he presses a kiss to the back of it. A gentleman's move, but his eyes hold something else-interest.
Sairaj watches in silence. But I know him well enough to know that silence with him is never empty. It's full of restraint.
Ranvijay's smirk widens. "All good things, I hope."
I tilt my head. "That depends. Are the rumors true?"
"Which ones?"
"That you make a terrible husband."
Ranvijay chuckles, amused. "I wouldn't know. Haven't had the pleasure of a wife yet."
My father walks in just then, shaking hands with Ranvijay before leading him toward his office.
I watch them go. Maybe he could be my way out of this mess. If I can convince Ranvijay to marry me, I wouldn't have to marry Sairaj Suryavanshi.
A sharp presence hovers beside me.
"Don't even think about it, Amber."
His voice is low, dangerous. The way my name rolls out in his silky dangerous voice makes something coil inside me.
I turn slightly, meeting Sairaj's gaze. His dark eyes burn with something unreadable, something possessive.
But I won't back down. Not this time.
"What if I did?" I challenge.
His lips curve into something wicked, something almost cruel.
"If you let any other man touch you, Amber, your next gift will be a skull."
A shiver runs down my spine. Not from fear. From something darker, something more infuriating.
His gaze lingers on me for a second longer before he turns and walks away.
Inaya, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, finally exhales. "Okay, what the hell was that?"
I press my lips together, my heart pounding.
So he can have women all over him, but I can't even look at another man?
Fine.
This game has only just begun.
"What happened here...my dear bestfriend is that I am going to replace my husband." I say looking at Inaya.
Inaya nearly chokes on her tea. "Wait-what?"
I turn back toward where Ranvijay disappeared, my lips curling. If Sairaj thinks he owns me, he's in for a rude awakening.
"You heard me," I murmur, voice low but sure. "I'm going to replace my husband."
Inaya's eyes go comically wide, but then-then that wicked spark I love so much flashes in them.
A slow grin spreads across her face. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
I smirk. "The most fun I've had in a while."
She leans in, whispering conspiratorially, "Do you think Rajvanshi is into you?"
I glance toward the office doors, tilting my head. "We'll find out soon enough."
And when I do, Sairaj Suryavanshi will regret ever thinking he could play me.
---
I am not reckless. Usually. Really.
But right now, all I want to be is just that.
My mother welcomes Sairaj as if he's already my husband, as if he didn't just force me into this marriage. Even Neeti bhabhi seems intrigued, and Ishika looks entirely unfazed. Alekha hides a smirk, but my mother shoots me a pointed look, as if I'm the one being unreasonable.
"He's not my husband yet," I say sharply. "And he won't be. So stop acting like he's family. He is an enemy. That's all he will ever be."
Neeti bhabhi rubs my shoulder, as if I hadn't just declared war.
Are these people out of their goddamn minds?
I leave, heading upstairs. I need a swim-something to drown out my frustration. The terrace pool is usually quiet, a space where I can wear whatever I want without judgment. Unless, of course, there's a meeting upstairs.
Wrapping a sheer scarf around my waist, I step out, the blue bikini hugging my skin. The water is cool, calming.
I push forward, letting myself sink beneath the surface for a moment, shutting out everything. The fight. The frustration. Him.
When I break through, I smooth my hair back and lean against the edge, eyes drifting-only to freeze when I catch sight of two men watching me.
Sairaj. Ranvijay.
Ranvijay's gaze is unreadable, impassive as his focus goes back to his phone, but Sairaj's?
His eyes burn.
A slow, deliberate drag down my body, an unspoken weight pressing against my skin. Measuring. Taking in.
Not with casual interest, not like Ranvijay's detached glance, but something far more consuming-dark, heavy, entirely unapologetic.
Heat curls at the base of my spine, but I force myself to stay still, unfazed.
Instead of acknowledging them, I push off the edge and swim. Slow, controlled strokes. Letting the cool water soothe the places where his gaze burns.
I don't hurry.
I don't let him affect me.
But I feel it.
The way his stare follows every movement, mapping the way my body moves through the water, catching on every inch of bare skin, every shift of muscle, every ripple of fabric against my curves.
It's too much.
Yet I refuse to look at him.
Another slow lap, then another. Only when my pulse evens out do I finally swim to the steps, climbing out, letting the water slide down my skin.
I drape the scarf over my waist, my movements deliberately unhurried, and walk toward the elevator, my heartbeat steady-until a hand grips my wrist.
Before I can react, another presses over my mouth, muffling my protest. I'm yanked into a guest room, the door clicking shut behind me.
My back hits the wood, his body close, his palm still covering my lips.
Sairaj.
The scent of whiskey and something darker clings to him. I struggle, mumbling against his skin, before sinking my teeth into his palm.
He tilts his head, jaw tight, eyes simmering.
"Do you not care what kind of men are lurking around this house when you're this exposed?" His voice is dangerously low.
I rip my mouth free. "No, I don't. And who the hell are you to ask me that?"
His lips curve, dark amusement laced with something else. "Sweetheart, I'm your fiancé. Soon-to-be husband."
He's too close. Heat radiates between us, and I shove him back. He steps away, but only slightly.
"Don't touch me again," I snap. "Who knows where those hands have been? It disgusts me." I hate how it comes out, desperate for explanation and something I wouldn't acknowledge.
I turn around to leave, but his hand lands over mine, pressing against the doorknob.
His voice dips, slow, deliberate as he leans, his breath a phantom near my ear."The only one I've been touching lately... is you."
My breath catches. Heat pooled in me and settled deep, right between my legs.
Sairaj leans in, his suit damp from my skin, his breath warm against my cheek. "And I'm sure that disgusts you."* His voice is a whisper of sin, laced with something wicked. "Mutual feelings, biwi. I hate that I want to touch you. And yet... here we are."
He presses his palms against the door, caging me in.
"Look at me." It's not a request.
Every nerve in my body screams to run. But I don't. Yet I turn around to face him.
I look at him.
"Not every man has sane intentions," he murmurs. "Not every man will respect your choice. It was Ranvijay today-he's not a threat to you." His head tilts, his gaze a dark warning. "But I want you to understand something, little bird."
His next words settle in my bones.
"I do hate you. But I won't let you be exposed to violation."
Something twists in my chest. I swallow hard, forcing the question out before I can stop it. "And you?"
He stills. "Me?"
I hold his gaze. "What are your intentions?"
Silence hums between us, thick with something unspoken.
Then, softly, darkly- "Mere iraade bilkul nek nahi hai."
My pulse jumps.
"Go change", he says. Not a request.
"What if I don't", I challenge.
He sighs shaking his head, "Then little bird, i would have to do it for you",he states calmly. His pupils dilated and I know he ain't lying. He's not bluffing.
I shove past him, needing space, needing air. But as I reach the door, my scarf slips from my body.
I freeze.
Sairaj holds it between his fingers, gaze trailing over me with slow, searing intent.
I don't turn back. I don't dare. Every inch of my bare skin feels heated.
With my heart hammering, my skin burning under the weight of his stare, I step into the elevator and let the doors swallow me whole.
But even as I press against the cool metal, my body still feels *seen*.
And I hate that part of me likes it.
---
The house is unusually quiet as I step into the hallway, lost in my thoughts. My skin still tingles from earlier-his words, his proximity, the way he looked at me. I shake my head, irritated at myself. I don't care. I don't.
What did he mean he wanted to touch me and he hated it? What did he mean Ranvijay is no threat, so I can't have him as a replacement option, no...that has to change. This is my only way to escape. I'm so deep in my own head that I don't notice the figure turning the corner until it's too late. I crash straight into a firm chest, hands instinctively gripping onto expensive fabric to steady myself.
A low chuckle rumbles above me. Of course.
I look up, heart hammering in my chest. Sairaj.
He's already dressed to leave-black shirt, blazer draped over his arm, his scent still carrying the faintest trace of whiskey and something darker, something purely him.
His hands catch my waist for a brief second before he steps back, but the warmth of his touch lingers. "Running into my arms now, biwi?" His voice is smooth, teasing, but there's something else there, something unreadable.
I scowl and pull away, adjusting my dupatta even though it's perfectly in place. "If I knew you were standing there, I would've changed directions."
He chuckles..."Well, biwi, i would make sure you run into my arms one day, and by your own choice". He says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Lowering to my eye level.
His lips tilt into a knowing smirk, but his eyes-those sharp, piercing brown eyes-scan my face, lingering just long enough to make my breath hitch.
"You should watch where you're going, or i would assume you like my hands on you," he says, stepping past me. But just as I think he's about to leave, and i move forward, he holds my wrist, his fingers smoothly wrapping around it, his voice dropping lower.
"Lost in thoughts about me, Amber?"
I don't answer. I won't answer.
Instead, I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. I yank my hand away. "Not everything revolves around you. Don't flatter yourself, Suryavanshi. I wasn't looking for you, anyway."
His lips curl into a slow smirk. "No? Then why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"
I scoff, stepping back, but the hallway feels too small with him in it. He tilts his head, studying me the way a predator studies its prey.
"I was just thinking," I say, deliberately casual. "About my options."
His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his posture-something dangerous. "And?"
I meet his gaze, steady, unyielding. "And I think Ranvijay would make an excellent replacement."
Something flickers in his dark eyes. Amusement? No. Something much, much darker.
Sairaj exhales a low chuckle, but there's no humor in it. "You really think you can use him against me?"
"I don't think, Sairaj. I know."
He steps closer, his presence thick, suffocating. "Amber," he murmurs, low and dark, "if you think running into another man's arms will make me let you go, then you don't know me at all."
I refuse to back down, even as my pulse races. "Then maybe it's time I do get to know Ranvijay."
Sairaj's smirk vanishes. His fingers brush my wrist, just for a second, before he leans in, voice a whisper of sin against my ear.
"Go ahead, little bird," he murmurs. "But remember-caged or not, you belong to me."
A shiver runs down my spine, "I don't."
He hums, amused, and leans in ever so slightly. "We both know that's a lie."
And then he's gone, his presence leaving behind an invisible weight in the air.
I exhale sharply, cursing myself.
Damn him.
As I am about to turn to the hall, I turn back to look at him. He's headed out, walking with that effortless arrogance, as if he owns the very air around him.
And then, before I can stop myself-before I can overthink it-I call out.
"And Sairaj?"
He halts mid-step, turning his head just enough to glance at me, brow arched, as if I've just spoken in a language he doesn't understand.
I lift my chin, my voice steady. "Your iraade will never come true."
For a brief second, something flickers in his gaze-so
mething dark, unreadable.
Before he can say a word, before he can twist this into another game, I turn on my heel and walk inside.
A little win is still a win.
Author's note:
Tell me if you are loving the story, please leave a comment and a like for my efforts 😭
Love
Shabdaura
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