Chapter 30 #2
She held her breath, still pretending to sleep, until his merciless voice reached her.
“Go back to your room and sleep, Arundhati. Good night.”
There was no warmth, no softness in his tone. Just that loads of male ego.
She waited for footsteps, then the sound of his bedroom door locking shut. Only then did she snap her eyes open, glaring into the dim shadows of the penthouse. He was behaving like a stranger. That sting was brutal. She forced the tears back and headed back to the guest room.
*****************
Enough was enough now. An entire week had passed since she had shifted to their penthouse.
Despite sharing the same roof, there was no movement, no progress in their relationship.
She initially had decided to win him back with dignity, stubbornness and fire.
But none of it worked. Now, she would have to escalate her actions to bring the desired reactions from him, and she knew exactly what she had to do next.
It was around 11:00 a.m. at Verma she was flaunting it. Declaring to the world, without words, that she was his. That she intended to remain his.
For a beat too long, he forgot to breathe as she walked with calm grace to the only empty chair beside him, apologising softly for being late, then slid into her seat. And only then, she looked at him, gave him the faintest, sly smile, the kind only a wife would when she knew she had scored a hit.
She was playing with fire. She knew it. And she was right. He was affected.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away when he realised the entire team was now watching him, catching every flicker of his reaction. Gossip was the last thing he needed.
He cleared his throat, opened his file again, and continued as if nothing had happened. “Okay, let’s move to the pending case of Ahujas… I want a full update.”
But it was useless. Every few seconds, his eyes betrayed him, flicking to her. And there she was, not looking at anyone else, but only at him. Watching him lead, her gaze brimming with a quiet pride. Pride that looked achingly like it belonged to a wife.
He reached for his water bottle to buy himself a breath, sipped too quickly, and put it down harder than intended. How could he focus on case updates when the woman across the table had just raised their silent battle of wills to a whole new level?
Arundhati’s eyes gleamed in quiet triumph. Yes, she had turned the game one notch higher. And Kushal, no matter how much he pretended otherwise, was already losing control. Finally!
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Kushal ended the meeting in record time, fleeing the conference room as though the walls themselves were suffocating him.
He had to get out. One more second of watching her in that saree, her sly smiles, the streak of sindoor that had branded her as his in front of everyone, and the entire office would know just how smitten he still was by his wife.
He strode back to his cabin, shut the door harder than necessary, grabbed a bottle of water and downed half of it in one go, trying to cool the heat burning under his skin. But fate had other plans. Because a knock came, and the source of his torment walked right in.
Arundhati.
“Hey, any idea when Raj uncle’s coming back today?” she asked casually, stepping into his space as if she owned it.
Kushal didn’t look up, scrolling through his phone instead. “Why don’t you message him and find out?”
“I did,” she said, stepping further inside, closing the distance like she had every right to. “He’s probably in court. Didn’t check my message yet.”
He stiffened. She wasn’t here for her uncle. He knew that. She was here to torment him.
“Sorry, I was late to the meeting,” she added lightly, fingers toying with her saree pleats as though it were nothing. “The fuel tank was empty. So, I had to stop at the petrol station, and it was so crowded. Long queues everywhere.”
She kept adjusting the pleats of her saree, right there in front of him. Fingers brushing along her waist, pallu slipping just so as she bent down, that flawless back of hers. His throat worked as he swallowed, but his eyes betrayed him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, no matter what.
His head snapped up just as the pleats slipped a little lower, revealing the faint dip of her navel. Heat surged in his body.
“Did I ask why you were late?” he groaned. “And stop reporting to me. I’m not your boss.”
She glanced up through her lashes, lips tugging in a knowing curve. “I wasn’t reporting to my boss. I was reporting to my husband. That’s every wife’s right, isn’t it? And every husband’s duty… to listen patiently.”
The smile that bloomed on her lips was pure provocation. He reached for the AC dial, lowering the temperature, but it was useless. The heat was coming from her.
“You alright?” she asked sweetly, her smirk biting. “You look hot. I mean… You look like you’re feeling hot.”
That was it. His control snapped.
“Digging into old tricks for attention, Aru? It won’t work. If you think I’m affected by this saree or your Sindoor, you are fooling your own self.”
“Funny,” she murmured, eyes locking on his, “for someone so unaffected, you haven’t stopped staring since I walked in.”
That did it.
He strode back from his desk and crossed the distance in three lethal strides. Her smirk was still there when his hand slid around her bare waist, tugging her flush against him. No air, no space, nothing between them but the wild thrum of their hearts.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, low, lethal, his breath fanning her cheek. “I just happen to notice things… even the ones I should ignore.”
Her arms looped around his neck before she could stop herself, her perfume weaving around him, dizzying.
“Men who want to ignore,” she whispered back, lips brushing dangerously close, “don’t hold their wives like this.”
And just as she said that, Arundhati rose on her toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on his nose.
A tender wet kiss, charged with longing and so full of love it made his chest cave.
For the first time in his life, Kushal felt shy.
The way she kissed him, the way her eyes glimmered as she smiled at him, like he was still her entire world, cornered him, stripped him bare in a way nothing else ever could.
She used that moment of weakness, of him standing there in his lovesick, vulnerable state, to slip deeper, to speak truths she otherwise never could pierce through his walls of ego.
Her palms cupped his jaw, fingers brushing against his prickly stubble, as she whispered against his skin, her voice trembling with honesty, “I miss this, Kushal. I miss your romantic side… those one-liners of yours that could melt me down in a second.”
That was it. His restraint snapped completely.
Her gaze lingered on his lips, and he felt his own part in reflex.
But instead of claiming her mouth, he spun her around inside the circle of his arms, pulling her flush to him, her back crushing into his chest. There was still no space between them for even air to pass, only heat, radiating from their bodies.
She gasped, heat curling low in her stomach, as he lowered his face to her jawline, rubbing his nose along her skin, breathing her in like she was oxygen.
His own breath shuddered as he whispered against her skin, “What else did you miss?”
Her lips curled into a faint, breathless smile.
She knew he was giving in. Slowly, stubbornly, but surely.
She wanted to answer, but her words dissolved the moment he pressed further.
His rough stubble grazed her cheek in delicious friction that made her knees weak, setting every nerve alive in her body.
“You missed this?” he asked again. This time, his voice was low and husky enough to undo her completely.
She shivered, her lashes fluttering closed, surrendering to the scrape of his jaw, the warmth of his breath. All she could do was hum.
His hands grew bolder, possessive. One palm clamped tightly above her saree pallu at her waist. The other slipped behind the pallu, fingers meeting her bare skin.
His fingers teased the hollow of her stomach, circling, grazing, until his thumb brushed inside her navel.
She squealed, a desperate sound that escaped without permission, writhing like a kitten trapped in his arms.
“Did you miss this?” he pressed again, circling her belly button harder, making her gasp so sharply it hurt.
Her breath stuttered, faster and faster, her body betraying her as a sweet, scorching ache built, pooling low in her stomach and sliding between her thighs. She wanted him. Needed him. Every nerve in her body screamed for more.
And he knew it.
Kushal’s own breath was ragged now. His lips descended next, trailing fire along the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. He sucked at her skin, wet and merciless, leaving behind a mark that would not fade easily.
“Did you miss this, Aru?” he asked again, his voice breaking into a growl against her pulse.
By now, she was trembling, hyperventilating, her body pressed against the hard ridge of his own arousal. The faint bulge behind her was a sweet torment, a cruel reminder of how much he wanted her too and wasn’t taking her.
Her voice finally broke free; this time, she replied with more than one word. “Yes… Yes, I miss this. All of this. So much.”
He froze, lips still at her neck. The next second, his lips tore away from her neck, leaving her skin cold and burning at once, and he leaned to her ear instead, and whispered, “Good. Because I don’t miss this.”
Her spell shattered. Her eyes flew open in shock, the ache inside her body clenching harder, begging for what he had just denied. She spun around, fury igniting, trying to search his face for meaning, but he had already stepped back.
His arms loosened, and then, without a word, he turned and walked out of his cabin. He left her there, standing alone in his cabin, her body still trembling, her body still aching with a desire he had lit and abandoned.
Kushal didn’t stop until he was out of his cabin. He didn’t pause in the corridor either. His strides carried him straight to the long, open balcony at the end of the floor. He braced his palms against the railing, chest heaving, breath refusing to steady.
He needed air. He needed distance. He needed anything but the memory of her pressed against him seconds ago.
He was losing control. Ever since she’d walked into that conference room in saree and sindoor, he had been burning and on the edge.
That sight alone had set off an ache inside him that he hadn’t managed to calm since.
And when she had walked into his cabin afterwards, armed with excuses and her sly smile, he hadn’t stood a chance.
The minute she began adjusting her saree pleats, Kushal knew restraint would fail him. He had told himself to keep distance, to stay composed, to not let her see how desperately he still burned for her.
But for those few intoxicating minutes, his heart had trampled over his mind.
His body had betrayed him mercilessly. He needed her.
Needed the one touch, the one kiss, the one reminder that she was still his wife, still the woman he loved despite everything.
He had caged her in his arms, buried his face into her skin, breathed in that sweet perfume of hers like his lungs depended on it.
He had touched what he wasn’t supposed to, kissed where he shouldn’t have, and felt her melt like he knew she would.
And God, he had wanted more.
So much more.
The way her body had arched into his, the way she had gasped when his thumb circled her navel, it had driven him insane.
That desperate little squeal of hers, the way her thighs clenched with unspoken ache, had nearly wrecked him.
His own desire had surged painfully, his arousal pressing into her back in a way that left no secrets.
She would have felt it how close he was to ripping that saree off her, sweeping every file from his desk, sitting her there and claiming every inch of her until neither of them remembered what the word divorce even meant.
But then, the bitterness cut through the lust. The reminder of every rejection she had thrown his way. Every time she had claimed she wanted out. That wound was still raw, still bleeding. And Kushal Nair was too proud a man to let her see that kind of power over him.
And so he’d lied. Lied to her face, said he didn’t miss any of it, even when his body screamed the opposite.
He knew she had caught the lie. That hard, aching bulge pressed against her back had betrayed him. His mouth, his hands, his need, they had almost confessed it all for him.
And yet, he had walked away. Left her alone. Left her burning. Left her with the same ache that now twisted violently in his gut.
Walking away hadn’t set him free.
He had hurt her. But he had hurt himself worse.