Chapter 6 #2
Siddhant turned to face her. He placed his right hand firmly on the center of her back, right where the velvet fabric of her dress dipped low, his warm fingers resting directly against her bare skin.
The shock of his touch sent a violent, electric shiver through her entire body.
He took her other hand in his, raising their clasped hands gracefully into the air.
"Follow my lead," he murmured, stepping forward.
"I always do," she whispered back, automatically stepping back in perfect synchronization.
They began to move.
For the first thirty seconds, it was a performance.
They kept a polite distance between their bodies.
They moved with precise, calculated elegance, spinning slowly under the massive crystal chandeliers.
Poorvanshi kept her chin high, knowing that dozens of cameras were flashing around them, capturing every single angle of their dance.
But as the music swelled, the performance began to completely break down.
Siddhant’s hand on her bare back slowly, unconsciously tightened. He pulled her closer, closing the polite gap between them until their bodies were brushing against each other with every single step.
Poorvanshi gasped softly at the sudden closeness. She looked up, intending to ask him what he was doing, but the words died instantly in her throat.
Siddhant was looking down at her, and the mask of the cold, calculated billionaire was completely gone.
His dark eyes were entirely consumed by a raw, overwhelming fire.
The cinematic lighting of the ballroom caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look breathtakingly handsome, yet incredibly dangerous.
"You are staring, Poorvanshi," Siddhant murmured. His voice was a rough, deep vibration that she felt entirely in her chest.
"You told me to follow your lead," she breathed back, completely unable to look away from his intense gaze. "I am just trying to read my instructions."
Siddhant let out a soft, breathy chuckle, the sound entirely swallowed by the music. He spun her gracefully, pulling her even closer when she returned to his arms. "You look beautiful tonight. That dress is a complete hazard to my sanity."
Poorvanshi’s heart skipped a massive beat. Compliments from Siddhant Chaturvedi were rarer than diamonds, and hearing one delivered in such a low, intimate tone was completely intoxicating.
"A hazard?" Poorvanshi teased, a small, daring smile touching her lips. "I thought the Devil of Delhi was immune to pretty things."
"I am immune to almost everything," Siddhant replied, his thumb slowly, lightly tracing circles on her bare back, sending waves of pure heat rushing through her veins. "But I am quickly discovering that I am not immune to you."
The rest of the massive ballroom completely faded away.
Poorvanshi forgot about the hundreds of powerful guests watching them.
She forgot about the photographers clicking their cameras.
She forgot about the humiliating wedding night and the terrifying rumors.
The only thing that existed in her entire universe was the strong, solid warmth of the man holding her, the sharp scent of his cedarwood cologne, and the dark, magnetic pull of his eyes.
Their movements became completely fluid, matching the cinematic, slow-motion grace of the music. It wasn't a forced performance anymore, it was an incredibly intimate, deeply personal conversation happening entirely without words.
Every time he pulled her close, she leaned into him. Every time she looked up at him, his gaze dropped to her lips. The chemistry between them was no longer just a spark, it was a roaring, undeniable wildfire, burning away all of the rules they had tried to set.
Standing on the edge of the dance floor, holding a glass of champagne so tightly her knuckles were white, was Devika Suri.
Devika watched the couple spinning in the center of the room, her heart burning with absolute, toxic jealousy.
She had known Siddhant for five years. She had attended dozens of galas with him.
She knew how he operated. He danced like a machine, keeping women at a safe, polite distance, always staring over their shoulders, completely bored.
But right now, Siddhant was not bored.
He was looking at Poorvanshi Rathore with an intensity that Devika had never, ever seen.
He wasn't looking at the cameras. He wasn't looking at his business rivals.
He was entirely, hopelessly captivated by the woman in his arms. The possessive way his large hand gripped her bare back, the way he leaned his head down to catch her whispers, the way his dark eyes tracked her every movement...
Devika realized, with a sickening jolt of fury, that this was not a PR stunt.
Siddhant was falling in love with his brother's bride.
As the final, sweeping notes of the waltz echoed through the grand ballroom, Siddhant brought Poorvanshi to a slow, graceful stop.
The music ended, but they did not step apart.
Siddhant kept his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, holding her flushed body against his.
Poorvanshi kept her hand resting on his broad shoulder, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to catch her breath.
They stood in the center of the brightly lit floor, completely lost in each other’s eyes, the heavy, electric silence stretching between them for a dangerous, agonizing five seconds.
Finally, the loud sound of polite applause from the crowd shattered the spell.
Siddhant blinked, the real world crashing back into focus. He slowly, reluctantly lowered his hands, stepping back to put a polite, socially acceptable distance between them. But his eyes never left hers, silently confirming what they had both just felt.
Poorvanshi’s hands were shaking slightly. She had promised herself she would never be controlled by a man again. She had promised herself she would walk away from this chaotic family the moment Aryan was found.
But as Siddhant gently placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her off the dance floor, Poorvanshi realized a terrifying truth.
She didn't want to walk away anymore. The Devil had not just put his wedding ring on her finger, he had completely, undeniably stolen her heart.