Chapter 7 #2
"I am fine," Poorvanshi smiled, taking a glass of fresh juice from a passing waiter. "Go manage your empire. I can survive a family party for ten minutes."
Siddhant reluctantly let go of her arm and stepped into the circle of businessmen.
Poorvanshi took a sip of her juice and turned to admire the beautiful floral decorations. She felt a profound sense of pride. She was surviving this nightmare. She was actually finding her footing in this chaotic, dangerous world.
From across the pavilion, Nandini Chaturvedi watched Poorvanshi with pure, absolute hatred.
Nandini was dressed heavily in green silk and diamonds, looking every bit the wealthy society wife.
But her insides were boiling. Her own son, Aryan, was missing, a fugitive from dangerous people, while this middle-class architect was parading around the party like a queen, stealing all the attention and, worst of all, stealing Siddhant’s favor.
Nandini had noticed the way Siddhant looked at Poorvanshi.
She had noticed the heavy, undeniable chemistry between them.
If Siddhant actually married the girl properly, Nandini and her husband Raghav would completely lose whatever small influence they had left over the family empire.
Poorvanshi was a threat, and Nandini believed threats needed to be publicly humiliated and removed.
Nandini caught the eye of a young, nervous-looking catering waiter standing near the brass oil lamps.
She gave him a sharp, highly coordinated nod.
The waiter swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly, but he nodded back.
Nandini had paid him a massive sum of money for a very simple, very malicious task.
Poorvanshi was standing near a tall, heavy brass stand that held dozens of burning oil lamps. The flames flickered beautifully, casting a warm glow on her red silk saree.
She was completely unaware of the waiter slowly moving up behind her, holding a large, empty metal tray.
The waiter took a deep breath, stepped forward, and deliberately "tripped" over the edge of the carpet.
He lunged forward, throwing his hands out. The heavy metal tray slammed violently into the tall brass stand holding the burning oil lamps.
The sound of metal crashing against metal echoed sharply over the music.
Poorvanshi spun around in shock. Time seemed to slow down into a terrifying, cinematic crawl.
The heavy brass stand tilted backward. Dozens of small clay lamps filled with burning hot oil slipped off the metal rings, hurtling through the air directly towards Poorvanshi.
The fierce, flowing red silk of her saree was incredibly delicate.
One drop of burning oil, one touch of an open flame, and the fabric would ignite instantly, causing horrific burns.
Poorvanshi froze, her eyes widening in pure horror as the wall of fire and hot oil descended towards her. She threw her arms up to protect her face, but she knew she couldn't move fast enough.
Suddenly, a massive blur of black fabric tore through the crowd.
Siddhant moved with terrifying, explosive speed. He didn't even hesitate. He lunged across the stone floor, grabbed Poorvanshi by the waist, and violently yanked her backward, completely out of the path of the falling lamps.
He spun them around, using his own broad back as a physical shield.
The brass stand crashed to the floor with a deafening clatter. Dozens of oil lamps shattered against the stone, the hot oil splashing across the floor and instantly igniting into a massive puddle of bright orange fire exactly where Poorvanshi had been standing just one second before.
A few drops of the burning oil splashed against the back of Siddhant’s tailored black suit jacket, smoking slightly, but he completely ignored the heat.
The entire pavilion erupted into screams and gasps. Guests scrambled backward, trying to get away from the sudden blaze.
Siddhant held Poorvanshi tightly against his chest. He was breathing heavily, his powerful arms locked around her completely, crushing her delicate red silk against his suit.
"Are you hurt?" Siddhant demanded. His voice wasn't smooth or calm. It was a rough, frantic bark of absolute terror. He pulled back slightly, his large hands frantically checking her arms, her face, and the edges of her red saree. "Did the oil touch you? Poorvanshi, look at me! Are you hurt?!"
"No," Poorvanshi gasped, her whole body trembling violently with leftover adrenaline. She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket to steady herself. "I'm okay. I'm okay. You pulled me away."
Siddhant closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting out a heavy, ragged breath of pure relief.
He pulled her forehead against his chest, holding her incredibly tight, completely uncaring that hundreds of people were watching them.
For that one, terrifying second, the Devil of Delhi had thought he was going to lose her, and it had completely shattered his composure.
Then, the relief vanished, replaced by an absolute, terrifying, cold-blooded fury.
Siddhant slowly turned his head to look at the mess on the floor. The caterers were rushing forward with fire extinguishers, putting out the burning oil.
Standing a few feet away, looking pale and completely terrified, was the clumsy waiter.
Siddhant released Poorvanshi, gently pushing her behind him so that he was standing between her and the rest of the room. He slowly walked towards the waiter.