CHAPTER 25
It was half past eleven.
Yamini stood by the tall bedroom windows, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the snow-covered peaks glowing in the pale light. A thick robe was tied securely around her waist, shielding her from the mountain cold that crept through the glass.
The valley below had long disappeared into darkness, while the palace itself had grown quiet hours earlier.
In the dark window glass, the emerald and diamonds from the fish pendant caught the moonlight and reflected back at her in small flashes of green and silver.
Her hand moved up automatically to touch it.
She wore it at all times now.
It belonged to her family and reminded her of home.
But it also reminded her of how Bharat Jogra had placed it beside her breakfast plate with the same expression he wore while discussing security protocols and factory audits.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the pendant.
Infuriating man.
Nothing about their marriage was going the way she had expected.
Their contract marriage was practical, cold, and transactional.
At least that was what she kept telling herself.
Somewhere between midnight visits, breakfast arguments, and sitting on his lap like an absolute fool, she had stopped being able to maintain the clean, uncomplicated anger she had arrived with.
That frightened her more than anything else.
She touched the pendant.
No.
She would not allow herself to fall for a man who didn’t even want her heart.
Once the contract terms were fulfilled, they would separate.
This is just a contract marriage. That’s all.
Just as she reminded herself that, the grandfather clock struck.
It was midnight.
Her heart raced immediately, and she hated that.
When the final chime faded, she heard it. The connecting door opening.
Yamini closed her eyes briefly.
Then she turned as her heart continued to race in anticipation.
He stood in the doorway.
He was wearing his black robe, his broad shoulders filling the frame the way they always did, blocking the light from his room so that he appeared as a silhouette for one suspended moment before her eyes adjusted.
Then the soft, warm glow of the bedside lamp caught him properly, and she saw his face.
Her breath still caught at how stunningly handsome he was. Handsome yet unreadable as always.
He crossed the room toward her without speaking.
She didn't move.
She had told herself, standing at this window for the past hour, that she would remember this was just a contract marriage. She also reminded herself that this was a transaction for him, an obligation he fulfilled nightly with the same efficiency he applied to every other thing in his life.
But her heart refused to listen or slow.
He stopped in front of her.
He was close. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at his face properly.
He wasn’t looking at her. Not at her face. His eyes were on the emerald fish pendant nestled at the base of her throat.
He looked at it for a long moment, his face remaining unreadable. And then, his eyes lifted to hers.
Her breath caught. The air between them felt different. It always felt charged at midnight, but this was something else. Or maybe she simply imagined it to be different.
His golden-brown eyes stayed on her face, steady and unblinking, the way it had in his office when he had commanded Tina Mehta to leave without once looking away.
She waited.
She expected him to sweep her into his arms and carry her to bed, where he fulfilled the obligation of their marriage.
His hand moved. But it was not towards her waist.
His fingers rose slowly and touched the pendant. It was just a brief touch, the pad of his thumb brushing the emerald once, the same way he touched his cufflinks in the morning, that single practiced stroke before his hand dropped back to his side.
The touch lasted less than two seconds. But her heart raced under her chest.
His gaze lifted. And then, he slowly dropped to his knees.
She gasped when his hands pushed her robe open, and then his mouth was between her legs.
“Oh God,” she moaned, gripping his hair.
Her legs nearly buckled, but his arms kept her upright while his mouth stole her breath.
The sensation was unbearable, not just pleasure, but something raw and possessive in the way his mouth sealed around her, in the faint growl vibrating against her skin when she tugged at his hair and squirmed.
Her breath came in ragged bursts, her pulse hammering as his tongue hungrily lapped at the moisture between her legs. The pleasure grew until it snapped, and she climaxed with a cry.
Her legs gave up underneath her. But before she could collapse, he held her.
He got up, and his arms moved around her, one across her back and the other sweeping beneath her knees. He lifted her up against his chest and carried her away from the windows.
Her body felt boneless as it still hummed in pleasure.
He carried her without effort, his stride unhurried, his breathing steady in a way that hers was not. The room moved past her in soft amber and shadow. The pendant swayed once against her skin as he walked.
He reached the bed and set her down before straightening above her.
His eyes moved over her face in the low light.
She looked up at him, her heart loud in her ears, the pendant cool at her throat, and her body waiting to receive him in eager anticipation.
He shrugged off his robe and then moved on top of her. He gripped her knees, pushing them apart, and then entered her with a single thrust.
Her back arched, and she gasped at the familiar fullness that burned yet drove her crazy.
“Hold me,” he commanded. And she did.
She gripped his shoulders, biting her lower lip hard, trying to stop her moans and gasps from escaping. But she failed.
He took her with an intensity that made her gasp.
His grip on her thighs was hard, and his rhythm was punishing, each thrust angled to drag against a spot that made her thighs tremble. Sweat slicked between their bodies, her skin burning where his chest grazed her nipples with every movement.
His golden-brown gaze dissected her every micro-expression—the flutter of her lashes, the hitch in her breath, and the way her throat worked when she swallowed back a moan.
She shattered within minutes, but he didn’t stop.
She turned her face into the pillow, but he caught her chin, his thumb pressing into her jaw until she met his eyes again.
“Again,” he commanded, his hips moving with the same relentless rhythm.
She let out a sob and shuddered again, her body accustomed to obeying him each night.
Even as pleasure ripped through her, she hated the loss of control.
She hated how easily he made her lose her mind.
She watched as sweat dripped from his handsome face while he prepared to coldly withdraw from her.
But before he could move, her thighs clamped around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper.
His rhythm faltered, and his breath hitched, the first crack in his control. His movements grew jagged, and she could feel the tension coiled in his muscles and in the way his abdomen flexed.
“Let me go,” he gritted out, his voice stripped of its usual steadiness.
She didn’t follow his command. Locking her ankles tighter, she arched against him.
His hips jerked involuntarily, a groan escaping him when she flexed inward again, her body squeezing him. His forearm trembled where it braced beside her head, his other hand slipping from her knees to clutch the headboard for balance. The carved wood creaked under his grip.
“Yamini, let me go,” he growled, his hips jerking as he tried to pull away, but her thighs locked around his waist, her ankles digging harder into the small of his back.
The muscles in his abdomen tensed, his breath coming in ragged bursts as she clenched around him deliberately, her body refusing to release him.
His fingers scraped against the headboard, the polished wood protesting under his grip, while her nails scored down his shoulders.
And then, it happened. His control shattered with a guttural roar that echoed off the vaulted ceilings, his body slamming into hers one final, desperate time as he spilled deep inside her.
His hips stuttered uncontrollably, the force of his release making her gasp, not just from the sudden flood of heat, but from the raw, unfiltered intensity of his climax.
His face contorted in something almost pained, his biceps trembling where he braced himself above her, his usual calmness gone. And then, his weight collapsed on her momentarily, his forehead pressing into the pillow beside her head, his hot breath against her temple.
A moment later, his head snapped up. His golden-brown eyes held something she hadn’t seen before. Fury. Ice cold fury.
Yamini gasped as he pulled away from her. He stood rigidly beside the bed, every muscle locked in tension while his chest rose in shallow, controlled breaths.
His gaze fell between her thighs, and his jaw clenched.
“You will take a morning-after pill tomorrow,” he said, his voice cold. “A doctor will attend to you.”
Yamini was shocked. “What? Why should I do that? We both want a child.”
His face remained cold, yet his fingers curled into a fist. “According to the contract, I decide when I get my heir,” he said. “Not you.”
Yamini froze for a moment before she sat up in fury. “You are such a cold, controlling bastard!” she hissed.
He didn’t react to her fury. He simply looked at her. “You broke the contract rules,” he said.
She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “Fuck your rules and shove them up your ass!”
The soft pillow bounced off harmlessly on his muscled chest.
He didn’t flinch. He put on his robe in a smooth move. “Rules exist for a reason,” he said. “Ours is a contract marriage built on those rules.”
The words hit like a slap.
She watched in silent fury as he crossed the room toward the connecting door. He paused at the doorway.
“Dr. Bhatt will attend to you in the morning. Follow her instructions.”
His voice held a warning and command.
And then the connecting door shut behind him.
Yamini stared at the intricate carvings on the door until her vision blurred.
Her nails bit into her palms as tears stung her eyes.
She blinked them away furiously.
She would not cry over this.
She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and held it there until the burning behind her eyes subsided.
The contract. He had reduced everything, her body, their marriage, and the child she wanted, to contract terms and scheduled obligations.
She looked at the pendant on her chest, still warm from her skin.
She pulled it off and set it on the nightstand without looking at it.
Then she lay down, pulled the sheet up, and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
Cold, controlling bastard.
This time, she meant with no confusion underneath it.