CHAPTER 62! YOU ARE MINE #3
She should tell him to dry it.
Why was she looking at his hair?
She looked away quickly, focusing on a painting on the far wall. "The clothes fit."
"They do," he said, setting the towel aside.
Before she could respond, a soft knock sounded at the door. A maid entered quietly, carrying a small silver tray with a steaming bowl of soup.
"Mam soup." She set it on the nightstand with a low murmur, offered a quick bow, and hurried back out.
"You should drink it," Aadhira said, gesturing toward the nightstand. "Before it gets cold."
She turned, intending to walk toward the balcony to put some space between them.
But Aryav didn't move toward the soup. Instead, he took a slow, unhurried step toward her.
Aadhira's eyes widened slightly, and she took a step back.
He took another step forward.
"Aryav-"
She took two more backward steps until the back of her legs hit the low edge of the vanity, her spine meeting the cool surface of the wall.
There was nowhere left to go. "What are you doing? Why are you coming closer?"
Aryav stopped directly in front of her. He didn't crowd her roughly, but his presence left no room to breathe.
He raised his right arm, resting his palm flat against the wall beside her head, trapping her.
His left hand remained tucked deep into his pocket.
Aadhira's heart hammered against her ribs. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the center of his chest, refusing to look up into his face.
She knew she could duck under his arm and walk away.
So why was she staying right here?
"You're staring," he said. His voice was low, carrying that smooth, effortless weight that usually commanded entire rooms of dangerous men.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I said I am not."
"Ok."
The faint, unbothered curve of his mouth made her fingers itch to push him away.
"You've been enjoying ordering me around today, haven't you?" he asked, leaning in just enough for his shadow to completely cover her.
"No. I'm just making sure you don't act carelessly," she muttered, staring rigidly at the seam of his collar.
"Is that all?" There was a quiet thread of amusement in his tone. He shifted slightly, his chest almost brushing hers.
"I think You don't like the idea of other women looking at me?"
He knew, but she would never admit it. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.
"I couldn't care less," she shot back, her eyes snapping up to meet his.
The intense focus in his eyes almost made her lose her train of thought, but she forced herself to stand her ground.
"I was simply telling you to change so you wouldn't get sick. That's all."
Aryav stared down at her for a long, quiet moment. He didn't blink, didn't rush, just let the silence settle between them until the air felt heavy.
"Ah. I see," he murmured softly. "My mistake. I completely misunderstood."
He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slow, deliberate smile that felt entirely too confident.
"That means from now on I can do my early morning workouts on the lower deck without a shirt, right? Clothes are very uncomfortable for pushups aadhira, and since you don't mind..."
He made a subtle movement, pretend-stepping back as if the matter was settled.
Aadhira's mind locked up.
The lower deck? Where the staff cleans every morning? Him? Shirtless? Not at all.
The image flashed in her mind before she could stop it. Without thinking, her hand shot out.
Her fingers tightened around the soft fabric of his t-shirt collar, and she yanked him right back down until he was inches from her face.
"I dare you, Aryav," she snapped, glaring at him as a sudden wave of heat rushed up her neck.
Aryav wasn't surprised He knew what he just did, his eyes dropping to her hand tightly gripping his shirt, then rising back to her face.
"But you said you didn't care," he pointed out, his voice smooth and shamelessly calm.
"I don't," she said, her voice dropping into a fierce, low murmur. "But you are mine, and I don't share."
The words hung in the quiet room-heavy, clear, and impossible to take back.
Aadhira stared into his steady, unblinking eyes, then lowered her gaze to her own fist locked onto his clothes.
The realization hit her like hot water: he had set a trap, and she had walked straight into it.
He had never intended to step away-he had just wanted her to react, and she had handed him everything he wanted on a silver platter.
Pagal ladki, tu thodi der chup nahi reh sakti? Sab gud-gobar kar diya!
(You crazy girl, couldn’t you stay quiet for a little while? You’ve messed everything up.)
she berated herself, her chest rising and falling fast as her face burned. He completely played you.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," she muttered, her breath coming in shallow hitches.
His mouth twitched. "Trust me, I'm trying Hard."
"Well, you're failing."
She loosened her grip and tried to pull back, desperate for distance, but Aryav didn't let her go.
Before she could take two steps, his arm caught her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest.
His grip was absolute, yet gentle. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his warm breath sending a sharp shiver straight down her spine.
"Say that again," he murmured softly against her skin.
"I didn't mean it like that," she stumbled out, her breath catching as she tried in vain to pull against his arm. "Let go."
"No," he said, entirely shameless. He tilted his head and lightly bit her earlobe, making her eyes widen in shock.
Yeh kab se itne besharam ho gaye? Zara bhi lajja-sharam baaki hai ya woh bhi bech khaaye?!”
(When did he become so shameless? Do they have even an ounce of decency left, or did they sell that off too?!)
"I heard someone claiming what's hers. I want to hear it again."
"Suniye-" She flushed, too flustered to finish her sentence.
"It's fine," he whispered, his thumb resting heavily over her hip bone, holding her anchored against him.
"You don't have to say it out loud again tonight. You're free to accept it whenever you're ready. But remember this-I am always yours. You don't ever have to worry about sharing."
He let his hand linger on her waist for one more slow second before he finally released her.
Turning around smoothly, he picked up the bowl of soup from the nightstand and took a quiet spoonful, looking completely unbothered.
Aadhira stood by the wall, her pulse racing, watching him act as if he hadn't just pinned her against the room and completely dismantled her defenses.
Mujhe gusse se laal-peela kar diya hai, aur janab khud bade aaraam se soup ki chuskiyaan le rahe hain! Besharam kahin ke!
(Here I am, burning with anger while he sits there shamelessly sipping his soup!)
"You're horrible," she muttered, trying to smooth down her clothes with shaking hands.
Aryav didn't even look up from his soup, though the smirk on his face was clear as day.
"you just claimed," he said softly, " the same horrible man."
She should have been embarrassed. She should have been furious that he'd cornered her into admitting it.
Instead, the best part was that she wasn't sorry. Not even a little.
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