Chapter 3 #3
Siddhant finally turned his head to look at her. His dark eyes swept over her loose hair, her relaxed posture, and the soft silk of her robe. His gaze lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than was strictly polite before returning to her eyes.
"Third shelf on the left. Top row," Siddhant said, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. "There is a massive volume on modern European structural engineering. It should put you to sleep in ten minutes."
Poorvanshi walked over to the section he indicated. The shelves were incredibly high. She reached up, standing on her tiptoes, but the book he mentioned was just out of her grasp. She stretched further, her fingers grazing the spine of the heavy book, but she couldn't quite grip it.
Suddenly, she felt the unmistakable heat of a large body standing directly behind her.
She froze.
Siddhant had moved across the room with absolutely zero sound. He stepped in close behind her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his chest and smell the intoxicating mix of expensive whiskey, rain, and sharp cedarwood.
He didn't touch her, but his physical presence completely enveloped her. Slowly, he reached his long arm up, right past her shoulder, and easily slid the heavy book off the top shelf.
"You should have asked for help," Siddhant murmured. His voice was a low, rough whisper that sent a sudden, electric shiver straight down Poorvanshi's spine.
"I don't like asking for help," Poorvanshi whispered back, her voice completely breathy and betraying her sudden nervousness.
She turned around to take the book from him.
It was a terrible mistake.
Because when she turned, she realized exactly how close he was standing. There was barely an inch of space between them. If she leaned forward just slightly, her chest would press against his.
Siddhant looked down at her, the heavy book held loosely in his hand. The sharp, cinematic moonlight from the window cut across his face, highlighting the strong, harsh lines of his jaw and casting his dark eyes into deep, unreadable shadows.
Neither of them moved.
Every instinct in Poorvanshi's brain screamed at her to take a step back, to put a safe distance between herself and the most dangerous man she had ever met. But her feet felt glued to the floor. She was completely captivated by the intense, burning heat in his dark eyes.
Siddhant was experiencing the exact same paralysis.
He was a man who demanded absolute control over his environment, his family, and his own emotions.
But standing here in the quiet, moonlit library, breathing in the soft scent of crushed jasmine radiating from her skin, his control was rapidly slipping through his fingers.
He noticed the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat. He noticed how her dark eyes were wide and slightly dilated. He realized that she wasn't breathing.
And yet, despite the obvious tension, she refused to step away from him. She was challenging him, even in this. She was waiting to see who would break first.
"You break a lot of rules, Poorvanshi," Siddhant said softly, using her first name for the very first time. The sound of her name on his lips felt dangerously intimate.
"Your rules are designed to isolate," Poorvanshi whispered, tilting her chin up to maintain eye contact, refusing to back down. "You use control to keep people away. But it doesn't work on me. You don't scare me, Siddhant."
Siddhant’s jaw clenched. His dark eyes dropped to her lips for a heavy, agonizing second. The air between them crackled with an explosive, forbidden chemistry that neither of them had asked for, but neither could deny.
"Maybe you should be scared," Siddhant murmured softly, leaning down just a fraction of an inch closer to her face. "Because I am not a patient man. And if you keep pushing my boundaries..."
"What will you do?" she challenged, her voice barely a whisper, yet echoing loudly in the quiet room.
Siddhant stared at her for a long, heavy moment. He wanted to pull her in. He wanted to shatter every single rule he had ever made for himself. The urge was so sudden, so violent, that it completely terrified him.
With a massive effort of will, Siddhant finally stepped back, breaking the invisible, electric magnetic pull between them. He held out the heavy architecture book towards her, his face sliding smoothly back into a mask of pure, cold indifference.
"Read your book, Miss Rathore," Siddhant said, his voice completely stripped of emotion once again. "And try to stay out of trouble tomorrow."
Poorvanshi took the book, her hands shaking slightly. She watched him turn around, grab his glass of whiskey, and walk out of the library, disappearing into the dark shadows of the hallway.
She stood alone in the moonlight, clutching the book to her chest. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
The rules of the house were one thing. But as Poorvanshi stared at the empty doorway, she realized that the rules of her own heart were about to become far more complicated. She had promised herself she would never be controlled by the Devil of Delhi.
But as she touched the cold diamond ring still resting on her finger, she realized that she was in terrifying danger of actually falling for him.