Chapter Twenty Eight
"W-what are you doing here?" Devraj's voice was low... too low.
His jaw was clenched so hard a vein ticked in his temple, and Ira felt her pulse trip.
He looked furious.
"Sir... I-"
She didn't even finish before Vivaan's fingers curled around her wrist, to stop her from talking.
Devraj saw it.
The way his grip tightened on the doorframe... Vivaan swore the wood might snap before Devraj's control did.
"Bhai, it's not her fault. She only came to help-"
"What did I tell you, Vivaan?" Devraj asked.
Vivaan swallowed hard. "It was just-"
"Shut up." Devraj snapped, glaring at him.
"And take your hand off her. Now."
Vivaan released her like her skin scorched him. Ira instinctively stepped back.
"B-hai-"
"Come here, Ira." Devraj didn't raise his voice.
Her stomach tightened.
She didn't want to go anywhere near him right now, but disobeying him when he looked like this?
Not wise.
She moved toward him carefully, eyes dropping from the storm on his face. She slipped out of the room past him.
Maybe I should have gone to give him breakfast before coming to help Vivaan. She thought.
The moment she was out, Devraj lingered just long enough to turn his rage fully on his younger brother.
"Touch her again, Vivaan... and I won't spare you next time..." he growled, voice deep enough to make Vivaan scared.
That wasn't a threat.
That was a promise.
Vivaan's breath hitched. He only nodded, too afraid to try words again.
Devraj slammed the door so hard the walls trembled.
He turned, grip tightening painfully on his single crutch, breath uneven.
His fury was..boiling..and held together only by the thin thread of him trying to look composed in front of Ira.
"Sir, let me-"
He didn't even let her finish.
He turned, shoulders rigid, the back of his neck flushed with anger he couldn't hide, then stalked away, the single crutch under his arm dragging with angry thuds, and Ira hurried to follow.
~??????~
Devraj burst into his bedroom, the door slamming against the wall with a violent crack.
His fury stalked ahead of him, filling the room before he even crossed the threshold.
Ira slipped in after him, breath unsteady, shutting the door quietly.
She barely turned before his hand clamped around her wrist, dragging a gasp out of her.
"A-Ah!." she winced, as she looked up at him, scared.
That look only made something in him snap harder.
"That look." he hissed..
She blinked. "W-what?"
"That look of discomfort every time I touch you." His voice rose, cracking with heat he couldn't contain.
Ira swallowed hard. Discomfort? Of course.. Maybe it's because you are holding too tight?... she thought, trying to steady her breathing.
"S-sir, it's hurting.." she whispered, breath hitching with the sting in her wrist.
"And you think I'm not hurting?" Devraj shot back, his chest heaving. "You are mine-My caregiver. Not his."
And Ira stared at him like he had grown another head.
His voice trembled, rage, frustration, something deeper clawing at his throat..but she hardly heard it over the pain burning under his grip.
Her face twisted involuntarily.
The moment he saw that, the wince he caused.
Devraj flinched. Like he felt it.
He let go instantly.
Ira stumbled a half-step back, rubbing her wrist. She stare at it.
The skin was already reddening, the faint shadow of a bruise rising.
"I... I'm so sorry." Devraj's voice broke. He limped closer, guilt flooding his expression.
He reached out carefully, eyes fixed on the bruise blooming on her skin.
"I didn't... Ira, I didn't mean-"
"N-no problem, sir." Ira murmured, bowing slightly, instinctively putting space between them.
"I'm sorry too for not bringing your breakfast on time." she added quickly. "Your mother was worried for Vivaan. I only wanted to help. That's all."
Her voice trembled, Scared even. His reaction didn't make sense.
Why does he look like i betrayed him? He can't clearly be this angry because of I'm helping Vivaan? His anger this days is getting unbearable.
A sign that I should resign?
God... I hope Kunal and my parent don't see this bruise. she thought.
Devraj shook his head, voice softer..unbearably soft for a man like him.
"No... no, it's me. I'm sorry, okay?"
She looked up at him. His anger had vanished.
Replaced by something else she can't pinpoint.
"But... Ira..." he murmured, almost pleading.
He slowly lifted his free hand, the movement unsteady, like he was fighting himself.
His fingers trembled as he reached for her cheek.
Ira frowned, watching his hand rise toward her face..
"Sir??." she called, taking a tiny step back.
But Devraj followed that step too.
His fingers finally brushed her cheek, warm, slow... and so wrong for Ira.
Ira flinched instantly, her lips parting in shock.
Devraj swallowed hard, his eyes dark and wild.
"You flinched..again." he murmured, voice low and rough. "You always flinch. Every time I reach for you, you look like you want to run."
"S-sir, I don't-"
"Don't lie." His thumb traced her cheekbone before she could move. "I saw your face. In his room. You were smiling... relaxed... touching him."
"I was checking his temperature. Vivaan has a fever."
"I don't want you touching him," he said, barely holding his voice together. "I don't want him holding you, like that. He can take care of himself. He was staring at you with-"
"Sir." Ira stepped back again, his hand falling away. "Please. You're misunderstanding everything."
Seriously, is he alright? He doesn't want me to hold Vivaan? Am I missing something?
"Will... you give me as much care too... if I... have a fever?" His voice was suddenly strangely vulnerable. Ira blinked, caught off guard.
"What...?"
"Will you, Ira?" He stepped closer, the single crutch clattering softly against the floor.
"Will you touch me... like you touched him?"
Her stomach sank, She froze, mind scrambling. Touch him? What could she even say now? Like I touched Vivaan? Does he mean when I was checking Vivaan temperature?
Before she could respond, his phone rang from the bed.
Devraj's gaze flicked to it for a moment, then back to her.
His eyes held that intensity she couldn't read, making her shift slightly, uneasily.
Using his crutch, he moved over to the bed. She watched him silently, heart pounding, from nerves.
He picked up the phone; it was Advik.
Ira let out a quiet sigh of relief, pressing her hand to her chest.
Thank God... whoever called have no idea he or she saved me from this weird and uncomfortable conversation with Sir.
Her mind kept replaying the moment..his hand, the rough ache in his voice.
She shook her head lightly, still thinking about the strange moment before.
I hope this... doesn't happen again.
??????
Meanwhile...
Afternoon.
The room reeked of smoke and cheap liquor. Laughter and crude jokes bounced off the walls as a group of goons lounged in one corner, drinks in hand, voices loud.
Their conversation twisted from girls they'd "had" to the ones they wanted, their words lewd and careless, but their raucous energy couldn't hide the stench of desperation beneath it all.
At the other end of the room, Deepak sat on a small, worn couch, the picture of calm indifference, one arm draped casually across the backrest, the other hand holding a cigarette lazily between his fingers.
His eyes were closed but the noise around him barely touched him, a black shirt clung to his lean frame, and a leather jacket slung over his shoulders.
He looked untouchable, untamed., detached-yet every so often, the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying the sharpness of his mind.
"...did you see how she looked?" one of the goons slurred, leaning back with a lecherous grin.
"Like a real doll. Imagine having a night with her... man, I'd be floating on cloud nine." another said, chuckling.
Deepak didn't even open his eyes, yet their words slithered into his ears, sticky and unwanted.
"Oh, I saw her this morning." another voice sneered, low and lustful almost drooling. "She's a nymph, I swear. Never seen a woman make me this... aroused just by looking at her. Shame she won't be ours."
"Yeah...How can she earns that money all by herself. The kind of cash she pulls in a month... unbelievable for a woman." the first goon added, Most of the group nodded, impressed by her success yet objectifying her with every word.
A low, vulgar laugh rolled through the group. "Maybe she... has some fun to get it? Men would pay millions just to touch her. Look at her, man. She's... hot." another said, and the corner erupted into drunken chuckles.
Deepak's hand tightened around the cigarette, a subtle tremor in his fingers.
He opened one eye, glancing toward them, unimpressed.
The irritation in him coiled. Slowly, he rose from the couch, his movements, too calm to be ignored.
"What's her name again?" one of the goons suddenly asked.
"Oh... uh...um, Ira. Yeah, Ira is her name." another answered, and Deepak froze mid-step, every muscle tightening.
Deepak's cigarette fell between his fingers, unnoticed.
Ira.
And just like that, Deepak knew, this wasn't just another girl they talked about.
"I'll surely get her, Girls these days only want money and a little fun anyway. Easy catch." the goon who asked earlier bragged smoothing his greasy hair back, smirking like he'd already won something.
"Green eyes, red hair... those ones are the best in bed-"
He didn't finish.
A fist cracked straight into his jaw, sending him crashing off his chair.
The room froze.
Silence carved through the air as every goon jerked their heads toward the one person they feared most.
Deepak.
His chest rose and fell with controlled fury, a dark storm behind his eyes.
One strand of hair slipped over half his face, making his glare even more lethal.
"If I see any of you go near her..." he growled, voice vibrating with threat, "I will make you beg for death."
And he meant it, they all know Deepak wasn't just sadistic-he was lethal. He tortures mercilessly and he is so deranged, he gets pleasure from his victims agony. They all fear him the most.
The goons shrank back, fear strangling whatever stupidity they had left.
"And listen carefully.." Deepak continued, jaw tight. "None of you-none-will go collect money from her. I'll go."
He straightened his leather jacket with a sharp tug, breathing hard as if trying to leash something feral inside him. Without another glance, he stormed out of the room.
He marched down the corridor, he didn't even pause before pushing into his father's study. Mr. Tiwari was talking to a few men, but Deepak didn't wait.
"You said I can have her." Deepak snapped.
His father flicked a wrist. The men immediately left, closing the door behind them.
"I said," Mr. Tiwari began calmly, "if they didn't pay, you could have her. But the money is coming in today. So she is off-limits."
Deepak's fists balled. "I don't care! I want her!"
His father's expression hardened, as he studied his son.
"We have plenty of pretty girls in the brothel," he said coldly. "Get one if you're restless or..horny like you always do. And don't you dare think of going after her again. I'm done talking about this."
Deepak clenched his fists, jaw trembling.
"There will be harsh consequences if you bring her up again." his father finished.
Then he waved a dismissive hand. "Now get the two men ready. They're going for the money. Mr. Verma says the money is prepared."
Deepak swallowed hard, rage burning a hole in his throat.
He turned and slammed the door behind him, making the walls tremble.
"Fuck!" he snarled..
every step fueled by fury, frustration, and a desire he shouldn't have...
but couldn't let go.
When he first saw Ira, he thought it would be just another fling. Before he will pass her to the other goons on turn.
Just another game, like they do with debtors daughters.
But that... that wasn't enough anymore.
Even the brothel girls..girls he used to enjoy without a second thought..did nothing to him anymore. Their touches felt cold. Their moans felt empty. And every time he tried, he found himself searching...
green eyes and red hair.
But none of them were her.
None of them stirred anything satisfying or hungry inside him.
He wanted to break her, claim her, mark her. His doll.
And the more he thought about it, the more furious he became that she'd managed to gather the money herself, slipping through his fingers.
"Fuck!" he cussed, punching the wall with enough force to crack the paint. His hair fell over one eye, shadows hiding the madness behind it.
Then a smile crept across his lips. Slow. Sadistic.
"You're not escaping, little doll..." he murmured, "I will have you."
Every step he took down the corridor was like a predator stalking prey. But this prey wasn't his to take... Not when another man already marked his territory on her.
Deepak was a storm, but Devraj? Devraj was the calm hurricane.
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