Chapter 12
Dev
I hit the brakes just as Meera yanks the door open and storms out, slamming it shut behind her. Of course she’s furious, and of course I’m the last person she wants anywhere near her, especially after the scene at her parents’ place.
I sit there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I knew taking her to her parents’ house would be ugly. I knew they wouldn’t accept the marriage. But it wasn’t something I could avoid. It had to be done.
What I didn’t expect was how much it would torment me. The moment her dad raised his hand at her, an uncontrolled possessive rage tore through me, so violent it made me want to burn the entire place down.
Dammit. I should keep my emotions in check. But if it were only that easy, not when she ignites a fire I can’t resist. And that’s the fucking problem. I’m a puppet when it comes to her.
I take a breath, open the door, and follow her as she marches across the driveway of my home, not sparing me a single glance. When she reaches the front door, she stops, waiting for me to unlock it.
I step ahead of her and unlock the door, but before she can take a step inside, I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her off the floor.
Her breath hitches, and her fingers dig into my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“You see, Mrs. Rathore, there is no one here to perform the welcome rituals. The least I can do is carry my wife across the threshold.”
My wife. Mrs. Rathore.
God. Every time I say it, it feels… right. Too damn right.
“Put me down, Dev. Now,” she says, glaring at me like she wants to murder me.
Grinning, I tighten my hold. “Dev? No ‘Mr. Dev Rathore’? Looks like our marriage is making you awfully comfortable… getting personal with me. I kind of like it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she fires back. “This marriage means nothing. You mean nothing. And most importantly, this marriage doesn’t change the fact that I hate you.”
“Hate me all you want, Mrs. Rathore. None of it changes the fact that you’re my wife now. Which comes with consequences… the kind that will kill your peace.”
“Stop your crap and put me down, Dev.”
“No.”
I step across the threshold with her clutching my shirt, her whole body pressed against mine, every furious breath burning against my neck as she struggles against me.
And I’m loving every damn second of it. I don’t even know what I enjoy more—how easily I get under her skin, or the feeling of her in my arms. Exactly where she doesn’t want to be… and exactly where I want her.
When we reach my room, our room now, I kick the door open, stride inside, and drop her onto the bed.
She bounces slightly, her hair fanning around her like a dark halo.
But before she can move, I hover over her, placing my hands on either side, caging her in.
We stare at each other for a long moment, frozen.
Her breath trembles as she holds my gaze.
God, having her here in my room, on my bed, hits me like a punch straight to the gut.
It takes her a moment to react, but finally she presses both hands against my chest and pushes. “Get the hell away from me!”
The shove barely moves me, but I slide off her anyway. She’s on her feet in an instant, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I rise much more slowly, brushing off my shirt deliberately, just to rile her even more.
Her eyes blaze. “Let me make one thing very clear. Don’t you dare ever touch me again.”
I take a step towards her, and she steps back on instinct. We move like that until her back meets the wardrobe with a soft thud. I trap her in, my arms braced on either side of her, my body close enough that her breath catches.
“How many times do I have to make you understand that you’re my wife now. And I… I have every right to…” I lower my voice, letting it scrape against her like a warning.
“You have no rights over me. And don’t you forget what I said earlier. This marriage means nothing to me.”
“We’ll save this argument for later. After all, it is our wedding night, Mrs. Rathore, and I have no intention of wasting it proving you wrong. So drop the anger, and…” I let my gaze linger over her from head to toe, slowly, deliberately, “…the clothes.”
“How dare you even think you can say that to me!” she hisses, glaring at me.
“Looks like I’ll have to do the needful.” A dark smile tugs at my lips as my hand reaches for her dupatta, only for her to clutch it in both fists, pure fire blazing in her eyes.
But before she can let that fury loose, I add, “Relax, Mrs. Rathore. I’m not claiming my rights. Not yet. That will have to wait.”
I pull the wardrobe open, grab one of my shirts, and hold it out to her. “I just thought I’d help you change into something more comfortable.” I lean in slightly, letting the tease slide into my voice. “Also… I can’t wait to see you in my shirt.”
She snatches the shirt from my hand and flings it to the floor. “Go to hell!”
I step back, raising my hands. “As you wish.”
I turn and start walking towards the door when she asks, “Where are you going?”
I pause at the doorway and glance over my shoulder.
“Why? Sad your husband’s leaving you alone on your wedding night?”
She scoffs. “In your dreams.”
“Well, sweetheart, I don’t want to leave you. But thanks to the mess you’ve created, I’ll have to go and fix a few things. After all… it’s a husband’s duty to correct his wife’s mistakes.” I wink at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
With that, I step out, close the door behind me, and stride down the hallway.
Within minutes, I am in the car, pulling out of the driveway and heading straight to the police station. I’ve made Meera my wife. Now I just have to get my brother out of jail.
???
“I still can’t believe you married her, bro.”
Veer hasn’t stopped running his damn mouth since he got in the car.
I don’t even know why I told him about the wedding the second he sat inside the vehicle.
My already-frayed patience is wearing thin—first her parents, then that loser journalist friend of hers, then me dealing with the police, the whole circus…
and now him whining. This night just keeps finding new ways to piss me off.
“If you wanted, you could’ve had a night with her and—”
I slam the brakes so hard the car jerks violently. Veer lurches forward, and before he can steady himself, I twist towards him, grabbing his collar and tightening my fist around it.
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. One filthy word about my wife, and I swear, blood or not, you and I will have a very real problem,” I warn, my voice lethal.
He stares at me, startled, but not enough to shut his damn mouth. “She put me behind bars, bro… and you’re fighting for her against me?”
“You think I don’t know that?” I let go of his collar. “But she is mine to deal with. Not you. Not Dad. Not anyone else. Mine. And you won’t do anything that will piss me off.”
I know Veer. I know exactly how he gets when he’s angry.
And now, after this damn jail fiasco, he’s even more likely to jump into something reckless without thinking twice.
But I can’t let him do anything stupid just because his ego is bruised.
Not when there’s even the slightest chance it could hurt Meera.
“She. Is. My. Wife,” I bite out when he doesn’t answer. “And you will respect her.”
Veer studies my face, something dawning slowly in his eyes. “Are you turning soft and falling in—”
“I don’t do soft,” I cut him off. “And before you start reading too much into anything… this marriage is my way to make her pay.” I pin him with a cold, steady stare. “And I’ll handle it without anyone interfering.”
“Fine,” he mutters at last.
“Good.” I nod towards the house. “Now let’s go. Dad will be happy to see you home.”
We climb out of the car, the night air hitting us hard. Veer hangs back a step, still grumbling under his breath, but I ignore him and lead the way to the front door.
I push it open, and the moment we step into the living room, her voice hits us immediately.
“Welcome home, Devarji.”
I watch her descend the staircase, her salwar suit swaying lightly, that wicked smile tugging at her lips. She stops at the foot of the stairs and locks eyes with Veer.
“You were supposed to welcome me,” she mocks, “but here I am welcoming you, Devarji.”
Veer’s jaw tightens. “You bi—”
I press a hand firmly against his shoulder before he can curse.
“Bhabhi,” I correct sharply.
Meera glances at me, her smile widening, then turns back to Veer.
“So, Devarji… how was your little visit to jail?”
Veer smirks, sarcasm lacing his words. “Oh, it was just fantastic, Bhabhi.”
“That’s good to hear. Now that I am here, I’ll make sure you visit that place very often. In fact… next time, it’ll be for longer,” she says, smiling sweetly, but with a venomous edge.
Veer opens his mouth, clearly ready to retort, but she cuts him off.
“Please, don’t bother thanking me for it. Thank your brother. He’s the one who married me and got me here. That way, I can keep a close eye on you. I am sure you must’ve heard the saying… keep your enemies closer.”
“I am going to meet Dad,” Veer mutters, moving to brush past her. But Meera isn’t done. She steps in front of him, blocking his way.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you one important thing, Devarji…”
“What?” He scowls.
“You’re really photogenic. You wouldn’t believe how many likes your photos got me.”
Veer glares at her, then stomps up the stairs to his room without a word. Meera turns to me, that devilish smile never leaving her face.
“Your brother has no manners. He didn’t even thank me for the photos.”
I arch a brow. “Was it necessary for you to show your claws like that?”
“It was.” She folds her arms across her chest. “You think you can hurt my loved ones and I’ll just take it? No, Dev. I’ll hurt yours too.”
“You really don’t learn, do you?” I take a step closer. “The fact that you’re standing here, married to me, already proves exactly how far I can go when someone touches my loved ones. And you still think striking back at me is a smart move?”
“Smart or not, I won’t take attacks lying down.”
“Mrs. Rathore, what you’re doing isn’t brave. It’s stupid. This marriage will destroy you long before it ever affects me.”
This time, she doesn’t reply. She simply turns on her heel and walks towards the bedroom. Grinning, I follow her in and shut the door behind me. She ignores me. Grabbing a blanket and a pillow from the bed, she heads straight to the couch and begins making her makeshift bed.
I settle on the edge of the bed and slide my watch from my wrist, my eyes never leaving her. “So… I don’t get any action on our wedding night?”
She doesn’t even glance up as she fluffs the pillow. “Not even in your dreams.”
I pout. “Not even a kiss?”
She finally looks at me. “If you come one inch near me, Dev, this wedding night will turn into your funeral.”
I press a hand over my heart in mock hurt. “Violent wife. Just my luck.”
She huffs under her breath, rolls onto her back, and pulls the blanket up to her shoulders. “Exactly what you deserve. Now shut up so I can sleep.”
Grinning, I switch off the light and lie down.
This marriage is going to be one hell of a ride… one I am going to enjoy far too much.