Chapter Two
The restaurant was the kind of place Advika had only seen in magazines—all crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed china, and waiters who moved like ghosts.
Ashiana was neutral territory in the truest sense, owned by someone powerful enough that neither the Pradhans nor the Singhanias would dare cause trouble within its walls.
Small mercies.
Advika smoothed down the emerald green saree Anjana had sent over that morning with a curt note: Wear this. Don't embarrass us. The silk was beautiful, expensive, but it felt like a costume. She was playing a role now—the obedient daughter, the willing bride.
The lies tasted bitter on her tongue.
"Remember," her father said as they walked through the restaurant's main floor toward the private dining room in the back, "you're a Pradhan. Act like it."
I'm a Pradhan when it's convenient for you, Advika thought but didn't say. Anjana walked beside Yash, her hand possessively on his arm, her expression one of cool satisfaction. Abhishek and Rahul followed behind, the former looking amused, the latter uncomfortable.
The same dynamic as always. The same family that had never felt like family.
The ma?tre d' opened the door to the private room, and Advika's breath caught in her throat.
They were already here.
The Singhanias sat on the opposite side of a massive table that could have seated twenty but held only eight place settings. And at the head of that side, commanding the space like a king on his throne, was Sidharth Singhania.
The photographs hadn't done him justice. Or perhaps they'd been too kind.
He was tall—she could tell even with him seated—broad-shouldered, wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her monthly revenue at Sinfully Sweet. His dark hair was styled perfectly, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. But it was his eyes that made her stomach drop.
Amber. Cold. Assessing.
He looked at her the way someone might look at a business acquisition. With interest, perhaps, but no warmth. No humanity.
Those were the eyes from her nightmares for the past two weeks.
"Yash." Sidharth stood, and Advika realized she'd underestimated his height. He was easily over six feet, his presence filling the room. When he moved, it was with the controlled grace of a predator. "You're late."
It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.
"Traffic," Yash replied smoothly, though they both knew it was a lie. A power play. Making the Singhanias wait.
Sidharth's expression didn't change, but something flickered in those amber eyes. Advika filed that information away—he didn't like games. Or at least, not ones he didn't control.
"Shall we sit?" A woman's voice, sharp and cultured, cut through the tension.
Advika's gaze shifted to the stunning woman seated to Sidharth's right. She was beautiful in an intimidating way—high cheekbones, perfectly styled black hair, wearing a designer dress that screamed money and taste. Her dark eyes swept over Advika with undisguised disdain.
"Nisha," Sidharth said, his tone holding a warning. "Manners."
"Of course, bhai." But her smile was anything but polite as the Pradhans took their seats. "I was just admiring our guests."
Advika found herself directly across from Sidharth. The table suddenly felt too small and too large all at once. To his left sat another man, younger than Sidharth but with similar features—the same sharp jaw, the same commanding presence, though his eyes held more warmth.
"Rishabh Singhania," he introduced himself with a nod in her direction. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Pradhan."
At least one of them had manners.
"Advika," she replied softly. "Just Advika."
"How... quaint." Nisha's smile was razor-sharp. "So this is what a peace offering looks like."
The words hit like a slap. Around the table, everyone stilled. Yash's jaw tightened. Anjana's eyes glittered with malicious pleasure—she'd probably expected Advika to be insulted. Abhishek smirked.
But Advika had spent twenty-two years being the illegitimate daughter, the unwanted one, the girl who didn't quite belong. She'd developed thick skin and a sharper tongue.
"Funny," Advika said, meeting Nisha's gaze directly. "I was thinking the same thing about you. Though I suppose 'peace offering' is generous. 'Grudging acceptance of reality' might be more accurate."
Nisha's eyes widened, surprise flickering across her face before it hardened into something colder.
Anjana's elbow dug sharply into Advika's ribs beneath the table. "Advika," she hissed under her breath. "Don't ruin this."
But Advika caught something else—the slightest quirk at the corner of Rishabh's mouth, quickly suppressed. And Sidharth... his eyes had sharpened, focusing on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
"My sister," Sidharth said, his voice dangerously soft, "sometimes forgets that not everyone finds her charm as irresistible as she does."
It could have been a reprimand or a warning. Advika couldn't tell which.
"And your bride-to-be," Nisha countered, "seems to have forgotten her place."
"I know exactly what my place is," Advika said before she could stop herself. "Your brother's... strategic acquisition. Isn't that right?"
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Yash's face flushed red. Anjana looked like she wanted to strangle her. But Advika kept her gaze locked on Sidharth, waiting for his reaction.
He stared back, unblinking, and for a long moment, the only sound was the quiet clink of ice in water glasses.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. It didn't reach his eyes, but his lips curved. "At least you're clear-eyed about it. That's more than most."
She didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult.
"Perhaps we should order," Rishabh suggested. He picked up the menu, effectively breaking the standoff. "The lamb here is exceptional."
Waiters materialized as if summoned by telepathy, taking orders in hushed, efficient voices.
Advika ordered without tasting, her appetite nonexistent.
Across from her, Sidharth's attention had shifted to her father, discussing terms of the alliance in low voices punctuated by Abhishek's occasional input.
She was grateful to be ignored. It gave her a chance to observe.
Nisha watched her like a cat watching a mouse, clearly waiting for another opportunity to strike. Rishabh split his attention between his phone and the conversation, but his posture remained alert, ready. And Sidharth...
He commanded the room without trying. Every word he spoke was measured, controlled. When he wanted something, he stated it as fact, not request. The waiters deferred to him. Even her father, powerful in his own right, seemed diminished in Sidharth's presence.
This was a man who was used to being obeyed. Who expected it.
The door to the private room opened, and Advika's attention snapped to the newcomer. A woman, probably in her mid-twenties, beautiful in a deliberate way—perfect makeup, perfect hair, perfect body displayed in a dress that was just this side of appropriate for a business dinner.
"Sidharth!" Her voice was warm, familiar. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic was murder."
She moved directly to his chair, her hand landing on his shoulder with easy intimacy. Sidharth didn't flinch, didn't move, but something in his jaw tightened.
"Mihika," he said, his tone neutral. "This is a private meeting."
"Oh, I know!" Mihika's laugh was light, practiced. "Nisha invited me. Said I should come by for drinks after." Her gaze slid to Advika, and her smile sharpened. "Though I see you're all still busy with... business."
The way she said 'business' made it clear what she thought of Advika.
"Mihika is my best friend," Nisha supplied, her smile catlike and satisfied. "She's practically family already."
The implication was clear. Mihika belonged here. Advika didn't.
"I'll just wait at the bar," Mihika said, but not before her hand trailed down Sidharth's arm in a gesture that was anything but casual. "Don't keep me waiting too long, jaan."
The endearment—the same one Sidharth had texted Advika two weeks ago—felt like a blade between her ribs.
Sidharth's expression remained impassive. He didn't encourage Mihika's touch, but he didn't stop it either. And that indifference was somehow worse than if he'd welcomed it.
Mihika left in a cloud of expensive perfume, and Advika forced herself to breathe normally. It didn't matter. This wasn't a love match. It was a business arrangement, a treaty signed in marriage vows instead of ink.
She didn't get to be jealous of other women touching her fiancé. She didn't get to feel anything at all.
"As I was saying," Sidharth continued as if the interruption hadn't happened, "the territories will be divided as discussed. North to the Pradhans, South to the Singhanias. We'll share intelligence on common enemies and present a united front to the other families."
"And my daughter?" Yash asked, his gaze flickering to Advika for the first time since they'd sat down. "What assurances do we have of her... safety?"
The words should have been comforting. A father concerned for his daughter's wellbeing. But Advika heard the real question: What assurances do we have that you won't use her against us?
Even now, she was just a chess piece.
"She'll be under Singhania protection," Sidharth said, and finally—finally—his gaze shifted to her. Those amber eyes locked onto hers, and Advika felt pinned in place. "No one will touch what's mine."
What's mine. Not 'her.' Not even 'my wife.'
Possession, pure and simple. A spark of pure, unadulterated rage shot through her.
"Then we have an agreement." Yash extended his hand across the table.
Sidharth shook it, the gesture sealing Advika's fate more effectively than any signature could have. "The wedding will be in one month. My people will handle the arrangements. We'll send over the schedule."
"One month?" Advika's voice came out strangled. She'd thought she'd have more time. “I thought it was two months.”