23 ~ I can Fuck You Hard
As soon as my eyes fell on her. My mood instantly soured.
Samaira Mittal.
What is she talking to Chahat?
The black saree she had chosen was unnecessarily revealing for a reception, but that wasn't what irritated me.
Her black saree revealed more than it concealed.
What irritated me was the way she looked at me the moment our eyes met.
Samaira had worked with one of my clothing brands several months ago during a campaign.
It had been nothing more than a professional assignment.
She was hired as a model, completed the shoots, received her payment, and the matter should have ended there.
Except she had apparently decided that a professional association was an invitation to enter my personal life.
Once the campaign was over, the calls started. Then the messages. Then the unexpected appearances at my office and at industry events. She repeatedly tried to turn a professional relationship into something I had never agreed to.
I had never reciprocated her feelings. Had never given her any reason to think I was interested. But she just couldn't take no for an answer.
She had tried to seduce me. Multiple times. At events, at meetings, even at my own office. She had sent me photos of herself naked, posed, offering herself like she was a product on display.
I had deleted every single one.
She had a history. Everyone in the industry knew it. She slept with men to get opportunities. To get work. To climb the ladder. She had built her career selling herself and was proud of it.
I didn't hate her because she dressed boldly or because she was confident about her sexuality.
I hated the entitlement with which she treated my refusal as something temporary, something she could eventually overcome if she pushed hard enough.
To me, consent and refusal were straightforward. If I said no, the conversation ended there.
Unfortunately, she had never understood that.
I went to her so I can keep her away from my wife but before I could say anything Chahat turned towards a guest standing infront of her.
I didn't say anything and looked at Samaira.
She wanted attention. Access. And, more than anything, she wanted to attach herself to the Singhaniya name.
She was pretending as if we share some bond which was clearly not the case.
I had always despised women who deliberately used attraction as currency to manipulate men, and Samaira had managed to convince herself that she could use the same tactic on me.
I expected boundaries.
I expected dignity.
And most importantly, I expected people to understand the meaning of no.
I asked her to leave and left the reception area.
Suddenly my phone began ringing. The name on the screen was enough to make me straighten immediately. It was a confidential business matter, something I didn't want discussed in the middle of a room filled with guests, so I walked into the nearest empty room.
The conversation lasted several minutes. I kept my voice low, discussing figures, contracts, and a matter that required immediate attention.
My mind was completely occupied with work until I finally ended the call and lowered my phone.
I turned and found Samaira was standing behind me.
The door was closed.
My expression hardened instantly.
"How dare you?"
She took a step toward me, seemingly unaffected by my tone. "I just wanted to talk."
"I have nothing to discuss with you."
She ignored me and continued approaching. "Your wife isn't even that pretty," she said with a cruel smile. "And I bet she won't be able to satisfy you on bed. She looks so naive and inexperienced... I can give you whatever you want."
Before I could respond, her fingers caught my collar.
My entire body went rigid.
I immediately removed her hand.
"Stay away from me."
I pushed her back, creating distance between us.
She stumbled but recovered quickly.
"Are you out of your mind?" My voice was dangerously quiet now. "I'm married. At least stop this now. I've tolerated enough of your tantrums already. Leave."
She clenched her teeth.
Instead of leaving, she stepped toward me again.
That was the final warning she chose to ignore.
I shoved her away, harder this time, and she lost her balance, falling onto the floor.
Her hair was a mess. Her saree was disheveled, the pallu slipping off her shoulder, she looked like a wreck.
She looked up at me with teary eyes.
"Kartik..." For a moment, she simply stared at me.
I felt no sympathy.
Not after months of unwanted advances and repeated violations of boundaries.
"I've already told you," I said coldly, looking down at her, "I don't entertain whores like you."
She stared at me.
"Better leave before I make this even more humiliating."
She slowly got back onto her feet, fixing her hair and straightening her saree with trembling hands.
As she walked toward the door, I remained exactly where I was.
My disgust wasn't because she desired me. It was because she had repeatedly treated my refusal as irrelevant.
In my mind, a woman who genuinely cared for a man would respect his boundaries rather than trying to possess him through manipulation, temptation, or persistence.
She opened the door and left without another word.
I watched it close behind her.
Only then did I straighten my collar and take a slow breath.
The monster everyone called me had never been particularly good at forgiveness.
And she had just exhausted the last of my patience.
I fixed my clothes one last time before stepping back into the hall, forcing my expression back into its usual composure.
Whatever had happened in that room with Samaira, I wasn't going to let it show on my face. The reception was still going on around me, conversations filling the hall, glasses clinking, music playing softly in the background.
My eyes moved across the gathering almost instinctively, searching for Chahat.
Then I saw her near the other side of the hall, and for a moment I simply watched. She was standing with Ishika, Ina, and Rivan, but it was Rivan who had my attention.
He was standing far too close to her, leaning slightly toward her as he spoke, while Chahat listened with an ease I hadn't seen from her in days. She smiled at something he said, and that simple smile irritated me more than it had any right to.
My jaw tightened. I told myself it was nothing. He was her friend. She was allowed to talk to whoever she wanted. Yet every second I watched them standing together made something darker coil inside me.
I started walking toward them.
By the time I reached them, I didn't bother announcing myself. I reached for Chahat and pulled her toward me, making her stumble lightly against my chest.
Her eyes immediately widened. "Kartik..."
I looked down at her.
She frowned and murmured, "Kya kar rahe ho?"
(What are you doing?)
I ignored the protest and turned my attention toward Rivan.
"Hello, Rivan."
His expression stiffened.
I gave him a controlled smile.
"Congratulate nahi karoge humein hamari shaadi ke liye?"
(Aren't you going to congratulate us on our wedding?)
His jaw clenched.
"Congratulations," he said eventually, though there was nothing celebratory in his voice.
I noticed the way his eyes moved toward Chahat before returning to me and my arm settled around her waist.
She immediately looked at me, clearly displeased, but I didn't loosen my hold.
Her waist was bare beneath the edge of her blouse, and the awareness that Rivan could see exactly where my hand rested only made my possessiveness harder to suppress.
Ishika and Ina exchanged a quick glance.
They had noticed the tension between the three of us. It had become impossible to miss.
Thankfully, Ayaan appeared beside Ishika and began speaking to her, eventually taking her away from the awkward situation. Ina followed a moment later, leaving Rivan standing there.
Alone and disappointed.
I almost smiled because suddenly I remembered the Sangeet.
That night, Rivan had held Chahat close just to provoke me. I'd hated every second of watching him touch her. At the time, I had no claim over her, not one that anyone else would recognise.
But things were different now.
Now she was my wife.
I stepped behind her. My arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against me. Her back pressed against my chest, soft and warm.
"Kartik..." she gasped.
I looked at Rivan and smirked.
"Rivan, ek photo lo na hamari."
(Rivan, take a photo of us.)
His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. I gave him my phone and then pulled Chahat closer once again.
My hand slid to her bare waist, my fingers pressing into her skin. She was wearing a backless blouse, the fabric revealing the smooth expanse of her back.
I pulled her so close that there was no space left between us.
I could feel every curve of her body. The softness of her body. The warmth of her skin. The way her breath caught in her throat.
My chin rested on her shoulder.
I could smell her cologne. Could feel the way her body trembled slightly in my arms.
I saw Rivan's expression hardened.
Chahat glanced at me over her shoulder. Her face just inches away from mine.
There was a clear warning in her eyes. I answered it with nothing more than a faint smirk.
"Smile, Trouble."
Her teeth clenched. "You're impossible," she muttered.
She reluctantly faced forward.
He lifted the phone, though the disappointment on his face was impossible to hide.
I was looking at him. I was watching the jealousy burn in his eyes.
I kept my arm around her waist more firmly, letting the moment speak for itself.
"Ek aur..." I murmured, my voice low and husky.
(One more...)
Before she could react, I turned Chahat toward me.
My hands found her waist, pulling her closer to my chest. She stumbled slightly, her body colliding with mine.
She was pressed against me.
So close that I could feel every curve of her body. The softness of her breasts against my chest. The warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her blouse. The way her body fit perfectly against mine.