A silent billionaire.
A woman trained to kill.
When power marries danger, love turns lethal.
Its Rain-not heavy, but enough to make the narrow streets shine beneath broken streetlights.
The neighborhood smelled of alcohol, damp concrete, cheap cigarettes, and rotting garbage. Stray dogs slept beneath torn market stalls while distant music echoed somewhere deeper inside the slum-like lanes.
I walked through the darkness silently.
Black hood pulled low over my face, with a black mask hiding every visible feature. Black jeans and black gloves. Black combat boots splashing softly against the rainwater. I normally preferred high-heeled boots because the damage they caused during fights was far more satisfying. Breaking bones with one clean kick always felt efficient.
My hair itched painfully beneath the hood. I hated covering it completely. Usually, I left it outside even while wearing hoodies, but tonight required caution.
Three nights ago, an encrypted request had appeared through the dark-web portal Aditya designed years ago.
A hidden onion link.
Clients submitted target details and a code phrase before the entire system erased every log automatically. Even government cyber cells failed to trace it.
Only three people handled requests directly.
Aditya built the system.
Chhaya verified the contracts.
And I delivered judgment.
We never accepted requests blindly. Every target was investigated first. If the mission served greed instead of justice, we rejected it immediately.
This one had been accepted within hours.
Four boys, ages between nineteen and twenty-three.
No mafia ties. No political protection. Just intelligent enough to destroy lives from behind screens.
Three months ago, they began creating fake videos and edited photographs of girls from colleges and private schools before leaking them anonymously online. Then came the blackmail.
Money from terrified families.
Silence from frightened victims.
Three girls attempted suicide.
Two survived after receiving medical treatment in time.
One remained in critical condition, trapped somewhere between life and death.
Aditya was a computer genius. He only cared about typing on his laptop; even while talking, his eyes never left the screen for a second.
He had already erased every file, backup, mirror link, hidden archive, and dark-web repost connected to them within hours.
But I never believed deleting evidence was enough.
Some lessons deserved blood.
So I stopped outside a broken two-story building squeezed between abandoned shops.
One dim yellow light glowed upstairs.
Laughter echoed faintly inside alongside the sound of bottles rolling across the floor.
Good.
I slowly climbed the rusted side staircase before reaching the cracked window.
Inside, beer bottles covered the floor.
Laptop screens still glowed beside half-open editing software.
One boy snored against the sofa while another scrolled through his phone laughing weakly. A third smoked near the mattress spread across the floor. The fourth sat shirtless beside a table counting cash.
Pathetic.
I pushed the broken window open silently. The smell of cigarettes instantly reached me, sour enough to disgust me further.
I hated smokers.
If someone wanted to slowly kill themselves by smoking, they could simply ask me to do it faster. I would happily help. I purely hated smokers.
I stepped inside, and my movement caught someone's attention immediately.
"Huh?"
One boy looked up lazily before freezing completely.
The room fell silent for several seconds.
Under the dim yellow light, I probably looked like a psychopath standing there with black clothing swallowing most of my body while the snake tattoo disappeared beneath my collar.
And behind the mask-
I was smiling.
"W-Who the hell are you?" one stammered while standing too quickly.
I calmly closed the window behind me.
"You enjoy ruining girls' lives from behind fake accounts," I said softly.
My lowered voice barely rose above the rain outside.
"So tonight... I wanted to meet you personally."
One of them laughed nervously.
"Bro, this psycho bitch tracked us or something-"
The one scrolling through his phone threw it aside and walked closer toward me with drunken confidence.
"We could have fun with her," he smirked. "A girl came here herself into beasts' territory. Now who's gonna save her?"
I laughed quietly.
Not one of them felt guilty.
Of course they didn't, because nobody had taught them consequences yet.
And now it was too late.
"True," I said calmly. "Who's going to save you from me?"
Then I moved.
I crossed the distance instantly, my elbow smashing into his jaw hard enough to throw his body sideways before he even understood what happened.
The crack echoed brutally through the room.
Chaos exploded immediately.
One grabbed a bottle and smashed it against my head. Glass shattered everywhere.
I barely reacted.
"That isn't enough to stop me," I said calmly before spinning and driving my boot directly into his face.
The impact threw him backward into a tray of beer bottles. Glass exploded across the floor beneath his body.
Another reached beneath the table for something.
Too slow.
I kicked the table into his knees before grabbing a broken bottle midair and stabbing it straight through the third boy's hand into the wall behind him.
His scream filled the room.
Good.
Let the neighbors hear.
Nobody helped those girls when they cried either.
The fourth boy finally pulled out a small gun with trembling hands pointed at me.
His courage was gone now. They were super smart, but they had used their intelligence to destroy someone else's life, and now they were begging for their own.
I grabbed a chair and slammed it into him before he could fire properly.
The bullet shattered the ceiling instead.
Then I reached him and broke his wrist slowly.
His screams became unbearable.
"You uploaded videos while laughing," I whispered near his ear.
"So laugh now."
Blood spread across the dirty floor.
One crawled toward the door crying. One begged for mercy.
Another vomited from fear.
Pathetic.
Not one of them looked dangerous anymore.
That was the problem with predators.
Most became cowards the moment someone stronger arrived.
I pulled out my gun slowly.
The game was over.
Fear filled their eyes instantly. Their cries for mercy echoed through the room, but it was too late.
I shot them one by one.
Three bodies collapsed across the ruined room.
But the last bastard suddenly escaped through the main door.
My eyes lifted slowly.
Then I followed him.
The rain outside had grown heavier now.
The boy ran barefoot through the narrow streets, sobbing desperately while looking behind himself repeatedly.
"HELP!"
Nobody opened their doors.
The storm swallowed his voice before anyone could hear it properly.
He slipped near the road and crashed hard against the wet pavement.
Then he saw me walking toward him through the rain, and somehow that terrified him even more.
That midnight somehow turned even darker.
"P-Please... please... we were joking... we didn't touch anyone-"
I grabbed his face violently and smashed it against the road.
Once.
Blood mixed with rainwater beneath him.
"You touched their lives."
Again.
"You touched their minds."
Again.
"You touched their fear."
Then silence.
He was dead now.
By the time I returned upstairs, the other three were already dead.
None of them survived the night.
And honestly-
I felt nothing while leaving after delivering my own version of justice.
The rain had stopped by the time my work was done, but the darkness still hung heavily over the city. I think it was nearly three o'clock in the morning.
The entire world was sleeping peacefully.
After a long walk, I finally reached my studio.
I opened the door and made my way toward the basement.
The hidden entrance sealed behind me with a soft mechanical click that echoed through the underground silence.
Above ground, the art studio still existed peacefully like another universe entirely. Warm yellow lights illuminated unfinished paintings resting against wooden easels. Brushes soaked inside crystal jars beside palettes filled with gentle colors. Clients visited that place believing Trishika only created beauty with her hands.
Emotions trapped inside paint.
That was the version of me the world accepted easily.
But beneath that studio-
Another world existed.
Cold enough to kill softness slowly over time.
I walked down the underground staircase in complete silence while removing my black gloves finger by finger. Motion sensors activated automatically above me one after another, flooding the staircase with harsh white LED lights bright enough to expose every stain, every weapon, every lie hidden beneath darkness.
The deeper I descended, the more the atmosphere changed.
Warmth disappeared first.
Then comfort.
Then humanity itself.
By the time my feet reached the final step, the underground chamber looked less like a room and more like a surgical laboratory built specifically for identity destruction.
Everything inside carried terrifying precision. Every piece of technology here existed because of Aditya's genius computer mind.
The underground basement stretched far wider beneath the studio than most people would ever imagine. Cold white lights reflected sharply against polished black floors while hidden ventilation systems kept the air unnaturally clean. The faint scent of metal, chemicals, and dark roses lingered everywhere-a fragrance carefully engineered to erase traces of blood, gunpowder, antiseptic solutions, and death itself.
Every weapon, chemical bottle, and piece of clothing had its own designated place, like this entire underground chamber existed for one purpose only-
The creation of identities.
Along the left wall stood black steel racks carrying assassin clothing arranged with obsessive perfection. Every outfit was entirely black but designed differently depending on the mission. Tight tactical bodysuits. Long coats with hidden inner holsters. Waterproof combat corsets reinforced with thin armor beneath the fabric. High-neck leather tops capable of concealing wires and throwing blades.
And the boots-
My eyes moved toward them automatically.
The best part.
Rows of black boots rested beneath glass shelves like luxury weapons disguised as fashion. Some carried retractable blades hidden near the toe. Others contained miniature compartments beneath the heels for poison capsules, lock picks, or needles. One pair had reinforced steel strong enough to fracture ribs with a single kick.
Those were my favorites.
Beside them rested elbow guards fitted with slim sliding blades designed to emerge instantly during close combat. Gloves lined with hidden wire. Rings carrying compressed toxin needles. Waist chains capable of becoming strangulation cords within seconds.
Another section carried weapons supplied through Rathor Group operations. Imported guns. Modified silencers. Military knives. Compact explosives. Carbon-fiber garrotes. Ammunition sealed inside waterproof containers.
But my gaze always preferred the weapons I designed myself.
Cleaner. Faster. More personal.
The far wall carried chemicals instead of weapons. Transparent bottles labeled carefully in coded handwriting. Blood dissolvers. Gunpowder neutralizers. Skin sealants. Artificial bruising liquids. Waterproof tattoo adhesives. Scent eliminators.
One entire shelf contained nothing except rose-based perfumes.
Strong fragrances designed specifically to overpower blood, chemicals, sweat, and fear.
Because people remembered scents.
And assassins survived by controlling memory.
I finally stepped toward the mirror and stared at the woman standing in front of me.
Velvet Viper stared back silently.
Black hood.
Mask.
Predatory stillness.
Slowly, I began taking her apart.
The first thing I removed was the silver septum piercing resting beneath my nose. Then came the black gloves followed by the hoodie heavy with hidden weapons. One blade slid from beneath my thigh holster. Another from inside my boot. Two guns rested against the steel table beside miniature explosives sealed inside matte-black packets.
Every metallic sound echoed sharply through the empty basement.
Then my fingers reached my hair.
This part always took patience.
My hair alone took nearly half an hour to perfect properly.
I unclipped the fake bangs first, peeling them away carefully from my forehead before placing them beside the mirror. Immediately my face looked softer already. Less threatening. More human.
Then came the extensions.
Long black strands woven carefully between my real hair one section at a time. I removed them slowly while tiny pieces of red tinsel shimmered beneath the white lights like traces of blood hidden between darkness.
The length shortened gradually from below my thighs to below my waist.
Underneath everything, my natural brown curls remained flattened tightly against my scalp beneath protective wrapping. Hours earlier, I had compressed every curl using heat, styling resin, black pigment spray, and industrial setting products until my hair became unnaturally straight.
Until I showered properly and applied dissolving chemicals, my original curls refused to return fully.
Velvet Viper's hair framed my face differently.
It changed the entire structure people remembered.
Next came the tattoos.
I designed every single one myself.
Not because tattoos looked intimidating.
Because symbols carried psychological power.
And because they helped hide the softness of my real features beneath something colder.
The black snake stretching upward from beneath my chest toward my throat represented rebirth born from trauma.
The constellation tattoos across my right hand represented calculation and emotional distance.
The black roses around my wrist represented beauty surviving violence.
Or maybe beauty destroyed by it.
I soaked cotton with alcohol solvent before dragging it slowly across my skin.
The waterproof ink dissolved gradually beneath the chemical.
Scale by scale, the snake disappeared.
The constellations faded next.
Then the black roses vanished completely from my pale skin.
Soon my chest and hands looked empty again.
Now it was time for the makeup.
Velvet Viper could never look soft beneath light.
That illusion required layers.
I wiped away the matte sealant first-the product responsible for removing every trace of natural glow from my skin. Beneath it, my pale complexion slowly regained warmth and softness.
The sharp contouring vanished next.
Dark shadows carved beneath my cheekbones disappeared gradually while the artificial jaw definition softened again. Collarbone shading faded beneath cleanser. The severe structure Velvet carried melted away piece by piece.
Smokey black eye makeup dissolved beneath warm water before I finally removed the dark red lipstick that always made my mouth look dangerous enough to bite.
Though I always covered my body beneath layers of clothes, weapons, and masks, I still never allowed myself to become careless.
Because I remembered.
One mission years ago with another assassin had gone wrong. We were cornered by predators disguised as businessmen. The moment they realized a woman existed beneath the mask, the animals inside them surfaced immediately.
They tore at my clothes trying to see the girl hidden beneath Velvet Viper.
Trying to violate weakness.
My partner killed every single one of them before they could touch me completely. She removed every witness from that building that night.
But afterward, I trained harder than ever before.
Still-
No matter how skilled I became, there would always be someone stronger somewhere in the world. Someone capable of hunting me too.
Then finally-
The lenses.
I tilted my head slightly before removing the black contacts carefully.
The transformation always felt unsettling afterward.
Cold black eyes disappeared instantly.
And my natural chartreuse-green eyes returned beneath the lights.
Velvet Viper's gaze looked predatory because I trained it to become one.
Finally I stepped beneath the hot shower.
Steam filled the glass chamber instantly while black pigment, makeup residue, blood traces, and chemical sealants slid slowly down my skin and disappeared into the drain.
The matte finish removed softness from my pale skin entirely while Trishika carried natural warmth beneath hers. That subtle difference alone changed how people perceived me psychologically.
By the time I stepped out wrapped in a towel, Velvet Viper no longer existed in the mirror.
Only exhaustion remained.
I dried my natural curls carefully before letting the brown waves fall freely down my back again.
Then I opened the wardrobe carrying Trishika's clothes.
The contrast almost looked absurd beside Velvet's world of black weapons and blood.
I chose a light green Anarkali suit embroidered delicately with soft golden threadwork. The fabric flowed gently around my body instead of clinging like armor.
After dressing, I sat before the mirror once more.
This transformation always felt stranger somehow.
More vulnerable.
I applied soft pink makeup carefully this time. Only enough to brighten my natural features slightly. My lips carried muted rose gloss instead of dark blood-red lipstick.
Small golden earrings replaced the piercings. Thin bangles settled around my wrists with a delicate sound. I filled the parting of my hair with sindoor and wore my mangalsutra around my neck once again.
Then came the final details.
Green nail polish replaced black claws.
The long sharp fake nails Velvet Viper wore like weapons disappeared completely, revealing my shorter natural nails underneath.
Finally, I sprayed jasmine perfume lightly against my wrists and throat.
Nothing like Velvet's darker rose-and-smoke scent.
I stood slowly in front of the mirror afterward.
And once again-
Two entirely different women existed inside the same body.
Velvet Viper looked like violence wrapped in beauty.
Trishika looked like softness capable of being broken.
One woman entered rooms like death itself had arrived.
The other looked elegant enough to have stepped straight out of heaven.
I could change my voice too.
It was a skill I had possessed since childhood.
Velvet Viper's voice carried controlled seduction and quiet intimidation. It possessed people's attention effortlessly.
Trishika's voice was softer and warmer. Light enough to comfort, gentle enough to make people lower their guard without realizing it.
And somehow...
Both women were real.
I was now fully transformed from Velvet Viper back into Trishika.
The moment Ranbir left me at his house gate after the exhibition, fear immediately settled inside my mind. I had been completely certain he would stay there tonight just to irritate me further with those observant eyes constantly studying every movement I made.
Honestly, that man noticed too much.
And that terrified me more than I wanted to admit.
My original plan had been perfectly clean.
After the exhibition, I would quietly return to the mansion, and once everyone fell asleep, I planned to escape through the back entrance using the duplicate keys I had already made weeks ago. Being the "badi bahu" of the Rathor family apparently meant handling half the household responsibilities, which unknowingly gave me access to almost every room inside the mansion.
And naturally...
I made copies of every important key.
That part was honestly a little funny.
The guards already trusted me enough to lower their attention around me, and with Ranbir supposedly away for several days, the mission should have remained smooth and uninterrupted.
Then his sudden appearance at the exhibition ruined everything.
Though strangely...
Fortunately, instead of staying, he simply dropped me at the house entrance before informing me he had "meetings" and wouldn't return for the night.
Who even conducted meetings at night?
Knowing him, it was probably something illegal, manipulative, or deeply concerning.
That man carried criminal energy naturally.
Still...
His absence worked perfectly for me.
I remained connected to Rathor Group operations, but the mission I handled tonight had nothing to do with them. Before signing my contract with them, I had very carefully added a special clause.
I could continue accepting my own independent contracts.
However-
Rathor Group would always remain my first priority, and none of my personal missions could ever harm the Rathor family, its members, businesses, properties, or operations in any form.
He was so clever. The moment I added my clause, he immediately added that condition. After mutual agreement, I signed it.
I had walked too much today. There were several kilometers between both areas. The darkness had already disappeared now, but it was still too early in the morning, so no transportation was available at this hour, and I couldn't book cabs because no witnesses were allowed.
My legs hurt brutally.
I needed sleep.
Honestly, it felt funny right now. I was dressed completely like a newly married woman while walking alone through empty streets at this hour. I probably looked like some midnight ghost.
Finally, I reached one of the city's wealthiest private residential societies. Massive gates surrounded the entire area while armed security guarded every entrance carefully enough to make ordinary people uncomfortable.
Fortunately, I had access cards and residential identity clearance to enter without issue.
Luxury hid itself quietly here.
Money practically flowed through these roads.
There were many houses, all designed similarly from the outside, though each carried different colors and architectural details. I walked deeper inside until familiar black iron gates finally appeared ahead of me.
Ranbir's private house.
Unlike the enormous Rathor mansion, this house felt smaller. And honestly, it suited him perfectly since he lived here alone.
The three-floor modern villa stood surrounded by soft landscape lighting and dark stone pathways cutting through perfectly maintained gardens. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls reflected faint mountain shadows behind the property while warm golden lights glowed softly through the interior.
A long rectangular pool stretched across one side of the house, the water reflecting pale moonlight beneath the night sky.
Maybe I would actually swim there someday... if he didn't drown me first.
The moment I entered inside, several servants were already preparing to leave after finishing their work for the morning. The interior carried the same personality as Ranbir himself.
Black marble flooring.
Muted colors.
Everything organized with obsessive precision.
No unnecessary decoration.
But still beautiful.
A woman in her late fifties approached me almost immediately with a polite smile.
"Maya," she introduced herself softly. "I manage the house staff here."
She then spent the next half hour giving me a tour while explaining Ranbir's house rules.
Honestly, he was such a controlling man.
But after all, he worked hard and paid for his peace.
Before leaving, she informed me that all servants only worked during daytime hours. After cleaning and preparing meals, everyone left before afternoon unless specially called back.
Which meant-
Most evening, this massive house stayed almost empty.
Interesting.
"A cook will arrive early morning for breakfast preparation," Maya added kindly.
Good.
At least I wouldn't have to hear him criticize my cooking before sunrise.
After everyone finally left, silence settled across the house completely.
I slowly wandered upstairs alone, exploring different rooms curiously. The bedrooms were massive but strangely emotionless. The guest rooms looked untouched. His office felt intimidating even from outside the door.
And behind the house stretched a mountain cliff.
If someone disappeared from there, no one would ever know.
I was still exploring the upper hallway when a loud voice suddenly echoed from downstairs.
"Bhabhiiii!"
I froze slightly before recognizing the voice instantly.
Nishant.
I walked downstairs only to find Nishant and Reyansh standing near the entrance while guards carried several decorated boxes behind them.
"When did you both come?" I asked softly. "Sit. I'll make coffee."
"No no no, Bhabhiii," Nishant interrupted dramatically while pulling Reyansh forward beside him. "We have a meeting and need to leave quickly."
Reyansh adjusted his watch before speaking calmly.
"Four days later is my birthday," he explained. "There'll be a family celebration at the mansion during the morning... and a party at night."
Nishant grinned proudly.
"The night party is for youngsters, so you should come too. Here-invitation cards."
One guard stepped forward holding several elegant black invitation boxes.
"And..." Reyansh hesitated slightly before continuing, "you can bring your friends too if you want."
I almost smiled internally.
"And cousins too," another voice interrupted suddenly from behind them.
I nearly jumped.
Kartik stood near the doorway.
Seriously-
Why did these men appear like assassins?
"I don't think my friends would fit there," I replied honestly.
Well... about friends, I had Chhaya and Harshita. Chhaya stayed calm and observant everywhere, while Harshita was pure chaos. And if my sister Sakshi joined them, the level of mischief would become a complete disaster. Though Pari remained quiet most of the time, she became brutally rude if someone messed with her.
I did not want any scene at their party.
Plus, I still didn't know what kind of party these people were planning.
"It's a good party," Reyansh added calmly while leaning against the wall. "My sisters, brothers, friends... everyone will be there. No need to feel uncomfortable."
"Oh," I said while accepting the invitation boxes from the guard. "Then I'll give these to them."
I wasn't stupid.
Only emotionally weak in love.
I knew perfectly well why these men suddenly wanted my "friends" and "sisters" at their party.
Half the Rathor men already carried suspicious levels of interest toward the women around me.
And honestly...
I wanted to see which women were interested in them too.
The house became silent again after they left.
Too silent.
For a long moment, I remained standing beside the table, staring at the black invitation boxes Nishant had left behind while sunlight slowly flooded the enormous glass walls surrounding the house. The morning had fully arrived now. Golden light spilled across marble floors and expensive furniture, making everything look peaceful.
A youngsters' party.
That sentence alone sounded dangerous considering the Rathore brothers and their equally problematic friends would all be gathered in one place.
Honestly, every woman around them deserved a bravery award.
I picked up the invitation boxes and carried them upstairs before placing them neatly beside the bed.
My fingers unconsciously reached toward the mangalsutra resting against my neck.
Still there.
Good.
Sometimes after removing Velvet Viper piece by piece, my mind needed time to settle completely back into Trishika again.
The transition always felt strange.
Like stepping out of one skin and forcing myself into another.
Sometimes I wondered whether changing identities so often would eventually fracture something inside me permanently.
I pushed the thought away immediately.
Weak thoughts created dangerous mistakes.
Outside, distant thunder rolled across the mountains.
Cold air drifted through the partially opened balcony doors, carrying the scent of rain.
I frowned toward the dark clouds gathering beyond the hills.
"What is wrong with this weather?" I muttered.
"It changes personalities more than me."
The irony almost made me laugh.
A yawn escaped me instead.
I was feeling too sleepy. The moment I collapsed onto the bed, sleep dragged me under.
I woke up screaming.
"No!"
My entire body shot upright.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand where I was.
The bedroom spun around me.
My chest heaved violently. Sweat soaked my clothes while my hands trembled.
Tears slid down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.
The nightmare still clung to me like wet fabric.
The girl's voice echoed inside my head.
Why did this happen to me?
I pressed a shaking hand against my mouth.
"Breathe..."
My own voice sounded distant.
I was a teenager again, sitting in the middle of darkness.
Everywhere was darkness.
Smoke.
Blood.
Fire.
My hands were covered with scars and wounds. Blood flowed from them while I cried for my mother.
Everyone was running here and there while I screamed for Maa.
For my family.
The memory refused to leave.
The room was dark now.
I had slept through the entire afternoon.
Thunder crashed again and again outside while heavy rain lashed against the windows.
I forced myself out of bed and walked toward the mirror.
My reflection looked terrible.
I grabbed a towel and wiped away the sweat covering my neck.
Then I froze.
There was still black residue beneath one nail.
Shit.
I immediately moved toward the bathroom sink, scrubbing the tiny stain carefully beneath warm water.
The black pigment finally disappeared completely.
Good.
Now I looked like Trishika again.
Completely.
My gaze lingered on my reflection for another moment.
My nose was so red it looked like a clown nose.
A noise echoed from downstairs.
I frowned immediately.
The house was dark and every light was off.
Every muscle in my body tightened instantly and the fear vanished.
Quietly, I stepped into the hallway.
My bare feet made no sound against the floor, though my earrings and bangles created a faint metallic sound.
The house remained almost completely dark except for occasional flashes of lightning filtering through the massive windows.
The sound was coming from the kitchen.
I moved downstairs carefully.
A decorative vase sat on a side table near the staircase.
I picked it up automatically.
By the time I reached the kitchen entrance, I could only see a silhouette reflected faintly against the steel appliances.
A tall figure standing near the counter.
I didn't hesitate.
It could be a servant or him but if it was either of them, why hadn't they switched on the lights?
The vase left my hand instantly, flying directly toward the figure's head.
But before it could connect-
A hand shot upward with terrifying speed and caught my wrist effortlessly. The attack stopped midair.
My eyes widened.
The stranger slowly lowered the vase. Then lightning flashed through the kitchen window, and suddenly I recognized the face.
Ranbir Singh Rathore.
His light brown eyes locked onto mine, dangerously calm. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at the vase still resting in his hand before lifting one eyebrow.
"Good evening, wife."
His gaze drifted toward the shattered fear still lingering on my face.
"Is that how you welcome home your husband?"
He took one step closer, his gaze never leaving mine.
"Why do you always want to hit me with a vase?" he asked.
I immediately crossed my arms in front of me.
"I thought there was an intruder," I said slowly.
A corner of his mouth lifted. I caught it in the brief flash of thunderstorm lightning.
"No intruder would dare enter this house."
The confidence in his voice was so ridiculous that, unfortunately, it was probably true.
I rolled my eyes.
"Why is the entire house dark? Why didn't you turn on the lights?"
He nodded toward the enormous windows where rain continued hitting the glass.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room briefly.
"Power cut."
The storm had grown worse.
Dark clouds covered the sky completely while rain poured heavily across the garden.
"Hadn't you noticed the thunderstorm?"
I ignored that question.
I had been busy sleeping.
Then busy trying to attack my husband.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a small emergency flashlight before placing it in my hand.
"There are candles in the storage cabinet," he said calmly. "Find them."
I could not believe this man.
Instead of finding them himself, he had handed the work to me.
Muttering complaints under my breath, I opened the storage cabinet and searched through the shelves until I finally found a box of candles and a lighter.
A few minutes later, small golden flames illuminated the darkness.
I placed them carefully around the hall and living room.
Meanwhile, he stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the storm, talking to someone on the phone instead of helping me.
He slipped his phone into his pocket before turning away from the window.
"Coffee?" he asked, practically commanding me.
I made my way to the kitchen and prepared it for him. Then I carried the mugs carefully toward the living room.
He was reading something on his tablet.
I had almost reached him when my foot caught the edge of the carpet and my balance vanished instantly.
"Oh-!"
The mug tilted.
And he was standing right in front of me.
The hot liquid splashed across his white shirt and dark trousers.
No.
This had to be a dream.
He slowly lowered his tablet and looked down at himself.
The coffee had clearly burned him, but his reaction was strangely calm. Too calm.
Then he lifted his eyes toward me.
"What did you do, Trishika?"
I immediately placed the surviving mug on the table.
"I am sorry!" I said, almost crying.
"My foot hit something."
"You ruined my shirt."
His gaze dropped toward his trousers.
"And my trousers."
I pressed my lips together.
He started taking slow steps toward me.
Which somehow felt even more dangerous.
"You will receive punishment for this," he said with a smirk.
"What?" My voice trembled.
The hot coffee had spilled all over him, but instead of panicking, he seemed far more interested in giving me punishment for it.
"You ruined it."
His expression remained perfectly serious.
"So now you will take it off."
My brain stopped working.
"What?" I asked, completely horrified.
Before I could even step back, he caught my wrist and pulled me toward him.
A small gasp escaped my lips as he effortlessly lifted me and threw me over his shoulder.
Not in some romantic movie style.
Literally over his shoulder.
My stomach pressed against the hard muscle of his shoulder while my upper body hung behind his back and my legs dangled in front of him. One arm locked securely around the backs of my thighs, making escape nearly impossible.
I panicked.
"Ranbir!"
He ignored me completely.
"Put me down!" I demanded, immediately squirming in protest.
He started walking toward the staircase without slowing.
"Not before I punish you."
His hand landed sharply against my hip through the fabric of my suit.
He had clearly spanked me.
The sheer audacity of this man.
My eyes widened.
"Did you just-"
"Keep struggling and I'll make this more interesting."
The insult barely left my mouth before he adjusted his hold and continued walking toward the bedroom as if carrying furious women over his shoulder was part of his daily routine.
Maybe it was.
I hit his back with both fists.
He didn't even react.
Not even slightly.
It was like punching a wall.
The bedroom door shut behind us.
And suddenly, I wasn't terrified about the ruined shirt anymore.
I was terrified of Ranbir Rathore.
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