Chapter 16
Dev
Taking my seat at the head of the table, with my father on one side and Veer on the other, I flick my fingers, signalling for the meeting to begin.
Khurana, our head of operations, immediately begins droning on about projected numbers, risk analysis, and operational compliance.
And I force my ears to suffer through his monotonous, corporate-preacher ramble.
Fucking hell! This meeting should’ve been over last week. But no. My wife had to pull her little stunt and blow my entire schedule to hell.
“We’re already behind schedule. And delays in our business mean losses, something I won’t tolerate.” I shut down his monotonous excuse about not being able to secure the new location because of paperwork delays.
Khurana runs a shaky hand through his slicked-back, salt-white hair—a nervous habit I’ve seen a hundred times. “Sir, the delay is tied to the shell company. The documents triggered an additional verification cycle. It’s standard protocol. Until that clears, the purchase can’t be processed.”
Veer taps his pen against the table. “Standard protocol, my ass. You’ve been doing this for years, Khurana. Don’t tell me you can’t push a few papers through without crying verification.”
Khurana’s eyes crease further, lines carving deeper into his face.
“Mr. Veer Rathore, the issue isn’t the paperwork itself.
It’s the sudden cross-check initiated by the registrar.
Someone on their side flagged the shell company for a routine audit.
I am handling it, but forcing it through too aggressively will draw the wrong eyes. ”
Dad exhales slowly, the kind of sound that makes every man at the table sit a little straighter. “Khurana, there’s a difference between caution and incompetence. You should know that by now. If the registrar flagged it, then find out why and fix it without delaying the operations again.”
“Khurana, get the registrar sorted,” I say, drumming my fingers twice on the table. “Now let’s move to the structural map for the new site.”
Khurana picks up the remote and switches on the projector. A blueprint splashes across the wall in crisp blue lines.
“The ground floor will house the pub,” I say, pointing to the layout with the tip of my pen.
Veer leans forward. “Basement?”
“That’s where we expand.” I zoom into the hidden section.
“Temperature-controlled storage. Reinforced walls. Private elevator access from the manager’s office.
Entry is restricted to six people: me, Veer, Dad, Khurana, and the two handlers.
No staff below the second tier knows anything.
We keep the drugs here before distribution. ”
“So the warehouse district entry still stands?” Dad asks.
“It stands.” I clasp my hands. “Two containers marked as liquor shipment. The customs officer is already bought. He’ll stamp whatever my man puts in front of him.”
Veer smirks. “Meaning he can’t tell cotton from cocaine.”
I allow myself one stiff nod. “Exactly.”
“And transport?” Dad shoots his next question.
“Four vans. Each driven by men who know the code,” I answer. “They even carry loaded guns if needed.”
Khurana flips a page. “Distribution only happens after the vans reach the pub.”
“Split into micro-consignments. Small enough to pass through police checks, large enough to maintain profit. Runners change routes every two days,” I say and click the next slide. “We launch in thirty days.”
“Good.” Dad nods in approval, and I shut the laptop.
The four other men around the table, who had sat silently through the meeting, nod their approval. Dad leans back in his chair, adjusting his shirt cuffs as his eyes flick to the empty crystal glasses lined up on the credenza.
“Whiskey, neat,” he says to the attendant by the door.
Minutes later, the amber liquid sits before each of us. Dad raises his glass. “Cheers.”
We all follow suit. We take a sip, then ease into casual conversation.
Rohan, the asshole Meera had served earlier, takes a sip and smirks. “We should’ve had this meeting at your place, Dev. Your sexy wife would’ve made it a hell of a lot more interesting.”
And that’s all it takes.
In a heartbeat, I am out of my chair, my hand fisting his collar as I yank him up and slam him into the nearest wall.
“You bastard. That’s my wife you’re talking about?” I snarl. A few drinks and the fucker has forgotten who I am, forgotten his place, and dared to utter my wife’s name with his filthy mouth.
Rohan chokes, clawing for air. “I—I just meant—”
“You meant what?” I seethe, dragging him up another inch. “That my wife is entertainment for you?”
His eyes widen, the arrogance draining out of him like someone just cut his vein.
Veer grabs my shoulder. “Bro, let go of him.”
“Don’t fucking interfere,” I growl, not even sparing him a glance. My grip only tightens as I lean in to Rohan. “You don’t get to think about her. And you will never so much as take her name. Do you understand me?”
He nods frantically, his voice rasping. “I—I understand—”
“Dev. Enough.” Dad’s voice grinds out from behind me just as Veer steps in, locking both arms around me from behind.
“Let him go, bro.”
My jaw flexes, and I finally shove Rohan away. He stumbles, clutching his throat, gasping like a fish dragged out of water.
“Clear out.” Dad orders. The men obey instantly, filing out in seconds.
When the door clicks shut and it’s only the three of us, I turn around. Dad walks towards me, his posture rigid.
“Have you lost your mind?” he snaps. “For that ill-mannered wife of yours, you’ll pick fights with your own men?”
“Yes,” I reply with a fury I don’t bother to hide, don’t even try. “If someone so much as breathes wrong about my wife, I will tear them apart,” I bite out. “And I don’t need anyone’s fucking permission for that.”
“If you keep fighting like this, if you keep losing your temper over that woman, you’ll be the one to destroy yourself,” he snaps, jabbing a finger hard into my chest. “Not your enemies. Not your rivals. You.”
“I’d rather destroy myself,” I reply, staring straight into his eyes, “than let a single man disrespect my wife.”
“Why don’t you get it? You’ll bring down everything you’ve built, everything I handed to you,” he snarls, trembling with restrained rage. “No woman is worth losing your power. Or your goddamn sanity, Dev.”
“If protecting my wife costs me my sanity or burns a few bridges, so be it, Dad.” I flex my hands at my sides. “I’ll build new ones from the ashes. But I won’t stand by and let any asshole speak filthy about my wife.”
His jaw ticks, just once. “I can see this obsession of yours is turning you deaf to reason. But I will not stay quiet and watch you slip.” His gaze hardens to steel. “I swear to you, I will make sure she’s removed from our path. Permanently.”
“You will do no such thing, Dad.” I slam my hand against the wall so hard the wood cracks beneath the force. Pain spears up my arm and warm blood trickles down my wrist, but I don’t flinch. My eyes stay locked on him, burning.
Veer swears under his breath. “Bro—fuck—”
Dad’s eyes flick from the blood to my face. I lower my hand, letting the blood drip onto the floor. My breathing turns rough, uneven, as I force the words out.
“Dad, if you so much as touch a hair on her… you will lose me. Permanently.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I turn on my heel and walk out.
The guards snap to attention as I storm past. I ignore their nervous glances as I step outside. The night’s cool air hits my face, but it does nothing to quell the fire tearing through my chest. I yank open the car door, drop into the driver’s seat, and slam it shut.
The steering wheel smears with my bleeding hand, but I don’t bother about it.
All I can feel is Dad’s threat needling under my skin, and the promise I made in return.
I will not let anything touch her. Not a single person, not a single thing.
And if anyone even tries… even if it’s my own blood, they’ll regret it.
Inhaling sharply, I start the engine and roll out of the parking lot, heading straight home. To her.
By the time I pull up in front of the house, my pulse is still racing. Even the drive, which usually clears my head, hasn’t done a damn thing to settle the storm tearing through my chest.
I step out of the car and walk inside. My footsteps echo through the hallway as I make a beeline for my room. I stop at the doorway, letting my gaze settle on my wife.
Meera is curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped around her waist, and a book resting loosely in her hands. Soft yellow lamplight spills over her face, making her look almost ethereal. Just looking at her eases the storm in my chest, if only a little.
I walk in and head straight for the side table. I yank off my wristwatch and drop it with a hard thud.
She looks up, and her eyes widen the moment they fall on my hand. She shuts her book and straightens.
“Dev… what happened to your hand?”
“Why do you look worried? You should be happy to see me hurt.”
She blinks at me once. Twice. Then her expression shifts, flattening into something blank, guarded, unreadable.
When she still doesn’t reply, I push harder. “What’s wrong? Upset because I am only bleeding and not dead?”
That finally gets a reaction out of her. She stands abruptly and tosses the blanket aside. “Will you stop your nonsense and let me check your hand?”
She steps towards me and reaches for my hand, but I jerk it back instantly.
“Don’t.” I breathe harshly. “You don’t have to bother about a man you don’t care for… a man you hate. I don’t need your fake concern.”
Her eyes snap up to mine. “Dev, you’re bleeding.”
“So?” I spit out. “This is the part where you should be dancing in joy, right? Isn’t this what you want? Me… hurt?”
She stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “You really don’t think straight when you’re angry, do you? And right now… you’re doing exactly that, spouting nonsense.”
Before I can respond, she grabs my uninjured wrist and yanks me towards her.
“What the hell do you think you—”
“Sit,” she snaps, shoving me down onto the edge of the bed with a force that steals the rest of my sentence right out of my mouth.
I don’t move. I just watch as she disappears into the bathroom. Drawers bang open, one after another. A few seconds later, she’s back with the medical box in her hand. Without a word, she drops to her knees in front of me.
My heartbeat rockets. The way her brows furrow as she studies my bruised hand, the quiet focus, the raw concern softening her features… Damn. She makes it impossible to keep her at a safe distance from my heart. Dad’s warning echoes in my head: I’ll be my own ruin when it comes to her.
She opens the box and takes out the cotton and ointment. Then she gently takes my hand in hers.
“It’ll burn a little,” she murmurs.
I nod, but don’t admit that the sting is nothing compared to the way my blood heats with desire just from her touch.
When she presses the cotton to my wound, I hiss, my body jerking at the sting.
“Stay still,” she mutters.
“It burns.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
My eyes lock onto hers. “You really hate me that much?”
She tapes a fresh bandage around my knuckles. “Yes.”
“Then why this care?” I demand.
“I am doing this because I am human, not a devil,” she says, tying the last knot with practiced precision. Her fingers brush my skin—soft, warm, maddening. “Watching someone bleed and walk away isn’t something I can do.”
Then she lifts her chin and meets my eyes.
“And yes,” she adds. “I do want to see you hurt. But that’s something I’ll enjoy only when I am the one causing the pain… not when someone else draws your blood.” She taps my bandaged hand lightly. “That,” she says, “I don’t enjoy.”
Her words make my pulse spike.
“There, your bandage is done,” she says, snapping the medical box shut. She sets it on the side table, turns around and walks to the couch without a backward glance. She grabs her blanket, flops onto the couch, and pulls it over herself.
I sit there for a long moment, my breath still heavy, my pulse drumming thick in my throat. It feels like an eternity before I finally speak.
“Thanks for taking care of it.”
She doesn’t even bother opening her eyes. “Save your thanks. Like I said, I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know you didn’t do it for me,” I murmur, swinging my leg onto the bed and leaning back against the headboard. “But you still did it. That’s all that matters to me.”
“I am exhausted. I am going to sleep,” she says, tugging the blanket higher around herself.
This woman, my wife, is the only one who can put me in my place. And God help me… she’s the only woman capable of unravelling me completely, the only one who gets under my skin and into my heart at the same time.