Chapter 8 #2
"You are not collateral damage, Poorvanshi," Siddhant stated softly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, burning intensity. "Aryan's choices reflect his own weakness, not your worth. You were the only real, honest thing in that entire farce of a wedding. Do you understand me?"
Poorvanshi looked up into his perfectly clean-shaven face, seeing the absolute sincerity in his dark eyes. It was almost too much to bear. She didn't want his pity, and she didn't want his logic. Right now, she just wanted to escape.
"I need to be alone," Poorvanshi said quietly.
Without waiting for his permission, she turned around and walked quickly out of the grand library, leaving the heavy folders, the undeniable evidence, and the two men completely behind.
Kabir let out a long breath as the heavy doors clicked shut. "That went about as terribly as I expected."
Siddhant did not look away from the closed door. His hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles were entirely white. The cold, calculated mask was gone again, replaced by a dark, simmering, absolute rage.
"Find exactly where that property in South America is located," Siddhant ordered Kabir, his voice dropping to a deadly, terrifying whisper. "Find the exact address. Find out who he is talking to, and find out who is funding his continued hiding."
"And when I find him?" Kabir asked cautiously, knowing exactly how dangerous his best friend was when he lost his temper.
"When you find him," Siddhant said, finally turning back to the table, his eyes completely devoid of mercy, "do not call the authorities. Tell me. I am going to drag my brother back to this city myself, and I am going to make him pay for every single tear she just shed."
***
The rest of the day dragged on in a painful, agonizing blur.
Poorvanshi stayed locked inside her guest suite.
She didn't cry. Crying felt entirely useless.
Instead, she paced the length of her room, letting the betrayal burn through her system, turning her sadness into a cold, hard anger.
She was a Rathore. She was an architect.
She built things that lasted, she did not allow herself to crumble over a foundation built on lies.
By the time the evening finally settled over Delhi, a light, misty rain had begun to fall.
Poorvanshi stood by the large glass window of her suite. Outside, the city lights blurred through the rain-streaked glass, creating a beautiful, soft bokeh effect of glowing yellows, reds, and bright whites against the dark sky. The cinematic lighting cast deep, moody shadows across her quiet room.
She was dressed in a simple, soft emerald-green silk slip dress, preparing for bed. But before she could sleep, she needed to take off the heavy jewelry she had worn earlier in the day to keep up appearances for the household staff.
She reached up to the back of her neck, trying to unclasp a delicate, intricate gold chain that her mother had given her.
But the tiny gold clasp was jammed.
Poorvanshi frowned, her fingers fumbling blindly with the small mechanism. She pulled at it, trying to slide the metal piece free, but it wouldn't budge. The tiny chain dug into the soft skin of her neck.
She tried again, her frustration rapidly rising. It was such a small, insignificant problem, but after the massive, life-altering revelations of the morning, this tiny jammed clasp felt like the absolute final straw. It felt like another trap she couldn't escape.
She pulled harder, her breathing growing ragged. The chain tightened painfully.
"Stop."
The deep, quiet voice startled her so badly she almost jumped.
Poorvanshi spun around.
Siddhant was standing in the open doorway of her suite. He had taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, revealing the strong, tanned column of his throat. He looked deeply tired, but his dark eyes were incredibly focused as he looked at her.
"You are going to break it, or you are going to hurt yourself," Siddhant said softly, stepping fully into the room and closing the heavy door behind him with a soft click.
"It's stuck," Poorvanshi whispered, dropping her hands to her sides, feeling a sudden, completely unexpected wave of exhaustion wash over her. "Everything is just... completely stuck."
Siddhant understood perfectly that she wasn't just talking about the necklace.
He walked slowly across the plush carpet, completely silent, until he was standing just a few inches away from her. The cinematic, moody light from the window cast sharp shadows across his flawless, clean-shaven jawline, making his intense features look breathtakingly handsome in the dim room.
"Turn around," Siddhant murmured.
Poorvanshi hesitated for a fraction of a second, her heart beginning to pound a frantic, heavy rhythm against her ribs. But the quiet authority in his voice, mixed with a deeply hidden gentleness, made her slowly turn her back to him.
She felt him step closer. The heat radiating from his large body instantly enveloped her, chasing away the chill of the rainy evening.
Siddhant raised his hands. His long, strong fingers gently brushed against the bare skin of her neck, moving her dark, heavy hair over her left shoulder to completely expose the jammed gold clasp.
The moment his skin touched hers, Poorvanshi stopped breathing.
The contact was electric. It sent a massive, terrifying shiver straight down her spine. Every single nerve ending in her body instantly hyper-focused on the exact spot where his warm fingers were resting against her neck.
Siddhant felt her tremble. He froze for a second, his own breathing growing slightly heavier.
He was a man who prized absolute, total control, but standing this close to her, smelling the intoxicating scent of jasmine and rain on her skin, his control was completely slipping through his fingers like water.
"Hold perfectly still," Siddhant whispered, his voice dropping to a low, rough rumble that vibrated directly against the back of her neck.
He focused his attention on the tiny gold clasp.
His movements were incredibly slow, deliberate, and surprisingly gentle for a man with such a violent reputation.
It felt like a slow-motion movie scene. The quiet ticking of the clock on the wall, the soft patter of the rain against the glass, and the heavy, synchronized sound of their breathing were the only noises in the entire world.
He manipulated the tiny piece of metal with expert precision.
Poorvanshi closed her eyes, entirely overwhelmed by the physical proximity.
She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest just millimeters away from her back.
She could feel the phantom heat of his clean-shaven jaw hovering just above her shoulder.
With a tiny, soft click, the jammed clasp finally gave way.
The gold chain loosened, falling away from her skin.
But Siddhant did not step back.
He held the delicate gold necklace in his hands, but his fingertips remained resting lightly against the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. He didn't move away. He just stood there, completely trapped in the magnetic, undeniable gravity that pulled them together.
Poorvanshi’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at their reflection in the dark glass of the massive window. The bokeh effect of the city lights framed them perfectly. She saw his tall, dark figure standing right behind her, his head bowed slightly towards her neck, looking completely captivated.
The quiet closeness was entirely unsettling. It was dangerous. It crossed every single boundary they had set for themselves.
"It's fixed," Siddhant finally whispered, his voice incredibly thick and strained, as if simply speaking required a massive physical effort.
"Thank you," Poorvanshi breathed back. Her voice was barely a sound in the quiet room.
Slowly, agonizingly, Siddhant let his fingers drag lightly across her skin as he lowered his hands. He took one single, heavy step backward, breaking the physical contact, though the heavy, electric tension remained completely intact.
He placed the gold necklace on her vanity table.
"Get some sleep, Poorvanshi," Siddhant said, not turning around to look at her, knowing that if he looked into her brown eyes right now, he would not be able to walk out of the room. "Tomorrow, we start fighting back."
He walked out of the suite, closing the door quietly behind him.
Poorvanshi stood alone in the dim, cinematic light of her room, her hand slowly coming up to touch the exact spot on her neck where his fingers had rested. Her heart was racing out of control.
Aryan’s betrayal had broken the foundation of why she was brought to this house. But as the terrifying, beautiful tension of the evening washed over her, Poorvanshi realized that a completely new, far more dangerous foundation was already being built in its place.
She was supposed to be the missing brother’s bride. But tonight, she only belonged to the Devil.