52
The courtroom was pin-drop silent, and I was nervously tapping my pen against the desk.
Dammit, I am so royally screwed.
Tripthi is going to kill me, revive me, and kill me again. Possibly legally.
Just then, the large courtroom doors opened slowly-every head turned. The guards stiffened. Some advocates even stood without realizing.
In walked Suryadev Bajwa.
Power. Silence. Command. The kind of presence that made even the judges adjust their robes nervously. Clad in a deep blue achkan, a gold-studded cane tapping the floor, and those sharp, glinting grey eyes-Tripthi's grandfather had arrived, and it felt like the courtroom belonged to him.
I stood up immediately and went to him, bowing my head slightly.
"Dadu," I said softly, touching his feet.
He looked at me, and the corner of his lips curved ever so slightly-his version of a warm smile.
"You're still alive, Katha?" he said dryly. "Did Tripthi spare you this week?"
"She's saving the execution for when she lands," I joked, and he chuckled.
"You're the only fool who can talk about my granddaughter's temper with a grin on your face."
"What can I say? I have immunity privileges," I smirked.
"Privilege or suicide wish, still unclear," he said, placing his hand over my head. "Let's go inside."
Court began. It was civil, dignified, sharp-until the will was opened.
And boom.
The clause was read aloud.
"The estate and full rights of the Bajwa ancestral properties shall pass solely to Tripthi Bajwa-on the condition that she presents herself in court in India within 14 days of this will's opening. Failure to do so will transfer ownership to the Bajwa Global Foundation."
I froze. My palms got clammy. The room blurred around me.
"Oh god," I whispered. I'm dead. Dead-dead. MURDERED by Russia's Mafia Queen.
Session ended. Everyone stood. And I... dragged myself to Dadu like a zombie.
"Why?" I asked him. "Why did you make this clause? You know she hates India."
He looked at me, amused. "Because if I hadn't added it, she would never come. And some things require her presence."
"She's going to flay me alive."
He smirked and gently patted my head. "Then maybe she'll finally learn what it's like to care about someone other than herself."
"Dadu, please, this isn't character development, it's a death sentence!"
But he just walked out like the cunning old fox he was.
I groaned and immediately called her. The phone rang twice.
She picked up.
Her voice was cold. "Katha."
"Hi bestie, how are you-"
"I swear to god, if you don't shut up, I'm flying over there just to break your legs before I claim my damn property."
I cleared my throat. "Sooo... minor problem. There's a clause."
"You mean the one that says I have to be present in India?" she spat. "Who wrote this medieval nonsense?"
"Your Dadu," I said slowly.
Dead silence.
Then: "He's trying to manipulate me."
"Obviously. But if you don't come, the entire estate goes to charity. No secret mafia safe houses, no offshore accounts, no Russian vaults. It's all gone."
More silence. Then a growl.
"You're coming to pick me up from the airstrip. And if you're late, I'll let Sheraa chew your limbs off."
"I'll be there with snacks," I said nervously.
"Also... tell that old man-I'm not forgiving him."
She hung up.
I let out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"She's coming."
I walked out of court, called for my car, and stared at the sky.
Russia's Ice Queen is coming to India.
And hell's about to freeze over.
I reached home, my heels clicking against the marble floors as I stepped in with exhaustion dragging behind me like a weighted veil. My brain was fried from court, my jaw sore from all the clenching, and honestly? I was ready to bury myself in pillows and disappear.
But then I remembered.
The storm that was going to hit me tomorrow.
A terrifying, 5'7 mafia hurricane named Tripthi Bajwa.
So I dragged myself into the kitchen to collect snacks-Tripthi's favourite ones. Because if she was going to land in India, all guns blazing, ready to kill me for the legal mess her "cunning fox budda," aka Suryadev Bajwa, created, then at least let her have good snacks while doing it.
Sheraa trailed behind me, his tail swishing lazily like he had no clue about the doom looming over his poor Katha mama.
Just as I was stacking her favorite almond cookies and that spicy dried meat she liked, I paused, blinking.
"Wait a damn minute-"
I turned around, narrowing my eyes. "DATTAAA!" I yelled from the kitchen. "DID YOU FEED SHERAA?"
A beat passed before I heard his amused voice yell back from the conference room, "NO, SUNSHINE!"
This man. On a ministerial meeting. Yelling across the palace. Casually.
I huffed, glaring at Sheraa who simply gave me his best innocent cub face. I fed him his meat bowl and he happily munched away, growling softly in contentment like he'd just been served gold.
A few minutes later, the grand doors of the study opened, and there he was-my husband, the Chief Minister of Rajasthan and Mafia King of Italy-with that sinful smirk on his face. He walked straight to me and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling his face into my neck.
"What happened, sunshine?" he murmured softly, the vibrations of his voice brushing over my skin.
I sighed dramatically and leaned into him, my head falling back onto his shoulder.
"My grand friend Tripthi is going to murder me tomorrow.
That will-ugh-why did her dadu have to be so dramatic!
Now she has to come here, and you know how she is when she's pissed. I'm her lawyer, not her punching bag!"
Datta chuckled softly, and then the chuckle turned into a laugh. A full-on, stomach-holding, "you're ridiculous" kind of laugh.
I turned in his arms, glaring. "Don't you laugh at me, you OLD MAN."
Silence.
Datta froze.
"Old-? Me? Old?! Oh waah, Katha... me-old?" he asked, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.
Uh-oh.
I opened my mouth, "Datta-"
But he was already stalking toward me with a gleam in his eye, lifting me up bridal style. I yelped, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me straight to our bedroom.
"Datta! I have to sleep! Tripthi will kill-"
He placed me on the bed with too much care for what followed next.
"I'll show you just how old I am, sunshine," he growled.
My eyes widened. "Wait, I didn't mean-"
But he silenced me with a kiss, slow and dominant, before he hovered above me, his muscles rippling, his tattooed arms caging me beneath him like a predator finally sinking his claws in.
And that night?
The beast in my husband awakened.
The whole palace could've known who was proving age had nothing on his stamina.
And me? I didn't stand a chance.
By the time morning sun streamed through our windows, I could barely move, my body sore in the best way possible, and Datta was smug as hell.
I sat on the bed like a broken ragdoll, wincing every time I so much as moved a toe.
"God... remind me never to call you old again," I muttered, massaging my shoulder.
Datta was lying beside me, perfectly fresh, arms folded behind his head, looking way too proud of himself. That smug look on his face? Infuriating. But also... weirdly hot.
I glanced at the clock and let out a groan, "I have to go. Tripthi will literally skin me alive if I make her wait."
But the moment I tried to get up, Datta pulled me back into his arms, locking me against his chest like a teddy bear. "You're not going anywhere," he murmured into my hair.
"Datta," I warned.
"No. You're sore. You're aching. And it's your own fault for insulting your very much not-old husband."
"Not this again," I groaned.
He smirked and kissed my forehead. "Just five more minutes, sunshine."
"You said five minutes ten minutes ago."
"I lied."
"Dattatriya-"
"Do you want me to prove myself again?" he asked, voice low and sinful, and I instantly shut up.
After a few more minutes of him being a clingy bear, he finally sighed and sat up. "Fine. But you're not getting up like that." He stood, scooped me into his arms, and carried me to the bathroom.
"Datta, I can walk-"
He shot me a look. "Can you?"
"...no," I muttered.
He gently helped me into the bath, set the temperature just right, and even massaged my shoulders with that soft pressure that made my eyes roll back in bliss. He washed my hair, dried me off, and helped me change into a simple but elegant cotton dress that flowed past my knees.
"Where are you going dressed like a soft cloud?" he teased, buttoning the last bit of the back for me.
"To pick up a hurricane," I replied, grabbing my keys. "Wish me luck."
He frowned. "Take two cars and three guards."
"She's my best friend, Datta."
"Best friend with a bazooka."
"Fair."
I grabbed the small snack box I'd packed-Tripthi's favorite spiced peanuts and almond cookies. Then I turned to Datta, standing tall in the bedroom, looking like he owned kingdoms. I tiptoed and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back soon."
Sheraa growled from the corner, annoyed that he wasn't coming along.
I walked over and kissed his furry head too. "You protect papa, okay?"
He purred, somewhat satisfied.
Datta walked me to the door and just before I stepped out, he pulled me back for one last lingering kiss. "Come back in one piece, sunshine."
I smirked. "Only if My best friend doesn't put a bullet through me."
And with that, I walked out to meet the one woman more dangerous than all our enemies combined-Tripthi Bajwa.
I was waiting for Tripthi jet to land when,
Phone buzzed.
Datta. Of course.
Datta:
Reached the runway?
Wearing something warm? Wind must be strong there.
Don't let her eat you alive, sunshine.
Also... I miss you.
Me:
Yes, yes, yes, and she will eat me alive.
Pray for my soul, Mr. CM.
I miss you too, even though your ego needs trimming.
Ps. Sheraa better be fed. ??
Datta:
He's fed. Playing fetch like a champ.
Come back safe. Or I'll have to start a war with Russia.
I rolled my eyes with a smile just as the roar of the jet echoed across the private runway. The black custom-built jet taxied smoothly, bearing the crimson symbol of the Russian mafia-the Bajwa crest. The door opened, and down came Tripthi Bajwa.
Clad in a black leather jacket, combat boots, and tight jeans, her toned arms were on full display-every inch of them covered in intricate tattoos. A scar curved under her left eye, her hair was tied in a sleek ponytail, and that trademark sonic-deadpan expression rested on her face like always
She was magnetic. Dangerous. Lethal.
And she was mine. My best friend.
I walked toward her and opened my arms with a smile. "Welcome to hell."
Tripthi stared blankly. "Smells like weak tea and emotional people."
I laughed and hugged her tight, and to my surprise, she hugged me back.
"Smile, Tripthi," I teased, "I promise, you won't be charged for it."
She gave me her signature dead-eyed glare. "Keep talking and I'll shove your Range Rover down your throat."
"I missed you too," I said sweetly and dragged her toward the car.
Inside, she immediately grabbed the black thermos I handed her and took a long sip. I watched, as always, amazed. That coffee could burn through steel. For any normal person, it'd induce a coma.
She opened the snack box and eyed the contents. "You remembered the almond cookies."
"You forgot who your lawyer is?"
"Barely. You're annoying," she said, but popped one into her mouth anyway.
Back home, Datta was outside throwing a ball for Sheraa, who barked and leapt like an overgrown child.
"Come on in," I called, unlocking the door.
Tripthi stopped and looked at Datta, scanning him up and down like a bounty.
"I know who you are," she said in that low, emotionless voice.
Datta raised a brow. "I'm guessing that's not a compliment."
Tripthi narrowed her eyes. "Hurt my best friend and I'll bury you under your own palace."
Datta, surprisingly, didn't argue. He simply nodded once. "Fair."
She followed me inside.
I took her to my study room, locked the door, and placed the envelope on the table.
"This is the will," I said, serious now. "Only you can open it. It has to be done in court, with your thumbprint. Tomorrow."
Tripthi stared at the document. Silent. Stone-faced.
"I know it's your mother's last memory. But I promise you... Dadu isn't that cruel," I tried to reassure her softly.
She slowly turned her face to me, eyes unreadable. "That cunning old fox? Katha, you think you know him. But trust me-this will? It's going to be layered with tricks. Like always."
She picked up the envelope, eyes cold.
"He trained me to be a weapon. Not a granddaughter."
Then, without another word, she turned and walked to the guest room, closing the door behind her.
I sighed, sat down, and leaned back in my chair.
Sheraa padded in quietly and rested his head on my lap.
"Great," I whispered, stroking his fur. "Tomorrow's going to be one hell of a storm."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Do cote