Chapter 10 #2
The heavy, deadly tension in the air slowly began to dissipate as Viraj disappeared into the crowd.
Siddhant stood perfectly still, his broad chest heaving slightly as he fought to bring his violent temper back under control. He took a deep, ragged breath, ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and finally turned around to face Poorvanshi.
He expected her to be frightened. He expected her to be angry at him for causing a public scene.
Instead, Poorvanshi was looking up at him with a completely breathtaking, radiant smile on her face.
She wasn't scared at all. In fact, she was absolutely thrilled.
She had spent weeks watching Siddhant maintain perfect, icy control over his emotions.
She had watched him handle massive corporate crises and family betrayals without blinking an eye.
But the moment another man had shown her improper attention, that legendary, unbreakable control had shattered into a million pieces.
The famously cold, calculated Devil of Delhi had just lost his mind out of sheer, unfiltered jealousy.
"Are you alright?" Siddhant asked, his voice still rough and tight with leftover adrenaline. His dark eyes scanned her face, checking to see if Viraj had upset her.
"I am perfectly fine," Poorvanshi smiled, stepping slightly closer to him. The scent of his cedarwood cologne wrapped around her, making her heart race.
Siddhant narrowed his eyes, confused by her highly amused expression. "Why are you smiling? The man practically assaulted you in public."
"He touched a piece of my hair, Siddhant. I was about to verbally destroy him," Poorvanshi pointed out softly, tilting her head to the side. "But you got there first. And you were... very dramatic about it."
Siddhant’s jaw clenched. "I was not dramatic. I was setting a boundary."
"You threatened to tear his arm off," she teased, completely unable to hide the absolute delight in her voice.
Siddhant stared down at her, realizing exactly what she was doing. The anger slowly drained out of his system, replaced by a heavy, magnetic heat. He stepped forward, completely closing the distance between them, oblivious to the remaining society guests watching them from the corners of the room.
"Are you enjoying this, Poorvanshi?" Siddhant murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerously low, intimate pitch.
"Enjoying what?" she whispered back, playing completely innocent, though her dark eyes were sparkling with mischief.
"Seeing me lose my temper," Siddhant replied, reaching up to gently tuck the very strand of hair Viraj had touched safely behind her ear. His fingers lingered against the soft skin of her jaw, his touch incredibly possessive.
Poorvanshi took a slow, deep breath, maintaining intense eye contact. "I just think it's interesting, Mr. Chaturvedi. The media says you are completely devoid of emotion. But just now... you seemed quite affected."
She paused, taking a daring, bold leap. "Are you jealous, Siddhant?"
The question hung in the air, bold and direct.
Siddhant did not look away. He did not deny it. He didn't hide behind a cold mask or a clever, sarcastic remark. The time for pretending was entirely over.
"I am incredibly jealous," Siddhant admitted softly, the raw, brutal honesty in his voice completely taking her breath away. "When I saw him standing that close to you... when I saw him touch you... I wanted to burn this entire tent to the ground."
Poorvanshi’s heart skipped a massive, violent beat.
Siddhant leaned down, his face hovering just inches from hers. The chaotic sounds of the polo match outside completely faded away.
"You belong with me," Siddhant whispered fiercely, his dark eyes burning into her soul. "Not because of a contract. Not because of a forced wedding. Because you are mine, Poorvanshi. And I do not share what is mine."
The absolute possessiveness in his words didn't scare her. It anchored her. It was exactly what she had wanted to hear.
Poorvanshi lifted her chin, a soft, beautiful smile completely taking over her face. She reached out, placing her hand gently against his solid chest, feeling the heavy, rapid beating of his heart.
"Then you have nothing to be jealous of, Siddhant," Poorvanshi whispered back, her voice filled with absolute certainty. "Because I don't want anyone else."
Siddhant’s breath hitched. The remaining shards of his icy restraint completely melted under the warmth of her confession. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her until the entire world disappeared, but they were still standing in the middle of a crowded VIP lounge.
Instead, he wrapped his large hand securely around hers, intertwining their fingers tightly.
"Let's go home," Siddhant murmured, his voice thick with suppressed emotion.
"What about the polo match?" she teased softly.
"I don't care about the match," Siddhant replied, leading her towards the exit without a single glance backward. "I only care about you."
As they walked out into the bright afternoon sun, completely ignoring the flashing cameras and the whispering crowds, Poorvanshi realized that the war was finally over.
The enemies had surrendered, the walls had fallen, and she was walking away completely, hopelessly victorious, hand-in-hand with the Devil himself.