Chapter 9 #2
"The pleasure is ours, my dear," Mrs. Singhania smiled, her eyes immediately darting to the heavy diamond ring on Poorvanshi’s left hand and then to the way Siddhant was standing incredibly close to her, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back.
The private dining room was magnificent, decorated with heavy silk curtains, antique crystal chandeliers, and a massive mahogany table set with fine porcelain and silver.
As they approached the table, Siddhant smoothly pulled out Poorvanshi’s chair. He placed his hand lightly on her bare shoulder as she sat down, leaning down to whisper softly, "Comfortable?"
"Perfectly," she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling.
The Singhanias watched the exchange with clear approval.
Dinner began, and the conversation flowed easily.
Poorvanshi proved to be an absolute asset.
When Mr. Singhania began discussing a new commercial real estate project in Dubai, Poorvanshi seamlessly entered the conversation, using her extensive knowledge as an architect to offer brilliant, highly technical insights on modern structural engineering and eco-friendly design.
Mr. Singhania was completely impressed. "Siddhant, you did not tell me your partner had such a brilliant mind for infrastructure!"
Siddhant looked at Poorvanshi, a look of deep, genuine pride lighting up his dark eyes. "I find new reasons to be impressed by her every single day, Vikram. She is the true architect of our family's peace right now."
Underneath the large, heavy tablecloth, out of sight of the investors, Siddhant’s large, warm hand suddenly moved.
He placed his hand firmly over Poorvanshi’s knee.
Poorvanshi gasped softly, quickly disguising the sound by taking a sip of her water.
The physical contact was completely unexpected and completely electrifying.
His large fingers squeezed her knee gently, his thumb slowly tracing a small, lazy circle against the soft silk of her saree.
It was a deeply intimate, highly possessive touch that sent shockwaves of pure heat straight to her core.
She turned to look at him. Siddhant was calmly cutting his steak, casually discussing profit margins with Mr. Singhania, looking completely unbothered. But the heavy, burning pressure of his hand on her knee told a completely different story.
Poorvanshi decided she was not going to let him win this game of torture so easily.
She smiled warmly at a comment Mrs. Singhania made. Then, she reached her own hand under the table and placed it directly over Siddhant’s hand. She slowly intertwined her smaller fingers with his, gripping his hand tightly, pressing her palm against the back of his hand.
Siddhant’s sentence faltered for a fraction of a second.
His jaw clenched instantly, a tiny muscle twitching in his cheek as he tried to maintain his professional composure. Poorvanshi’s thumb began to lightly stroke his knuckles under the table. She could feel the hard, coiled tension shooting entirely through his arm.
"You two are very quiet about the wedding plans," Mrs. Singhania suddenly noted, leaning forward with a polite, curious smile. "Given the... unusual circumstances of your union, the society pages are desperately wondering when you will make things officially public with a grand ceremony."
The question hung heavily in the air. It was a direct probe into the scandal.
Poorvanshi felt a spike of panic, but before she could formulate a diplomatic answer, Siddhant seamlessly took over.
"We are not interested in grand ceremonies, Mrs. Singhania," Siddhant said smoothly, his deep voice radiating absolute calm and authority. He lifted his free hand and gently tucked a stray curl behind Poorvanshi’s ear. The gesture was so tender, so incredibly natural, that Poorvanshi’s breath hitched in her throat.
"The public expects a circus," Siddhant continued, looking deeply into Poorvanshi’s eyes, completely ignoring the older couple across the table.
"They expect us to put on a show to prove that we are happy.
But we do not have to prove anything to anyone.
The only thing that matters is that she is here, by my side. Everything else is just noise."
He said the words with such quiet, burning conviction that it completely shattered the concept of the 'fake performance'.
He wasn't acting. Every single word was the absolute, raw truth.
Mrs. Singhania smiled softly, placing a hand over her heart. "That is beautiful, Siddhant. You look at her as if she is the only woman in the entire room."
Siddhant did not break eye contact with Poorvanshi. His hand tightened incredibly hard around hers under the table, his fingers interlocking with hers as if he were holding on for dear life.
"She is," Siddhant murmured. "She is the only one that matters."
Poorvanshi felt tears prick the back of her eyes.
The heavy, protective walls she had built around her heart completely crumbled into dust. The witty banter, the arguments, the strict rules, it had all just been a desperate attempt to deny the overwhelming, terrifying reality of how deeply they had fallen for each other.
The rest of the dinner passed in a beautiful, highly successful blur.
Mr. Singhania was entirely charmed. He saw a powerful, united couple deeply in love, completely unbothered by the chaotic actions of a runaway brother.
By the time dessert was finished, Vikram Singhania had cheerfully agreed to sign the merger documents the very next morning.
Siddhant and Poorvanshi stood on the massive stone steps of the estate, saying their final, polite goodbyes to the investors.
The night air had grown significantly colder. Poorvanshi shivered slightly in her thin chiffon saree.
Instantly, Siddhant shrugged off his heavy, expensive charcoal suit jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders. The jacket swallowed her completely, wrapping her in his intoxicating scent of cedarwood and black pepper. It was incredibly warm.
"Thank you," she whispered, pulling the lapels of his jacket closer to her chest.
"You were brilliant in there," Siddhant said quietly, guiding her towards the waiting Rolls-Royce. "You secured a multi-billion-rupee deal with a smile and a conversation about eco-friendly concrete."
"We make a surprisingly good team, Mr. Chaturvedi," Poorvanshi smiled up at him as Ishaan opened the car door for them.
"Yes, we do," Siddhant agreed, his voice rough and heavy.
They slid into the back of the car, and the door closed, plunging them into the dim, quiet intimacy of the backseat. The glass divider between them and Ishaan was firmly raised. They were completely alone.
As the car began to move smoothly down the dark, tree-lined highway, the adrenaline of the successful dinner finally began to fade, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence.
The performance was over. They didn't have to hold hands anymore. They didn't have to gaze lovingly into each other's eyes. They were supposed to go back to being the cold billionaire and the accidental bride.
But neither of them moved away.
Poorvanshi remained sitting incredibly close to him, still wearing his heavy suit jacket. Siddhant was staring out the dark, tinted window, but his posture was rigid, every single muscle in his massive body coiled with intense, suppressed energy.
Poorvanshi looked at his strong profile in the dim light. She thought about the way he had held her hand under the table. She thought about the fierce, absolute certainty in his voice when he told the investors she was the only woman in the room.
She couldn't play this game anymore.
"Siddhant," Poorvanshi whispered, her voice barely breaking the heavy silence of the car.
He slowly turned his head to look at her. The cinematic, passing streetlights cast shifting, golden shadows across his flawless, handsome face. His dark eyes were completely unguarded, filled with the same raw, hungry fire she had seen on the dance floor.
"The dinner is over," Poorvanshi said softly, her heart hammering a frantic, violent rhythm against her ribs.
She slowly reached out, her trembling fingers gently touching the crisp white fabric of his shirt, resting directly over his heart.
She could feel his heart beating just as fast, just as violently as hers.
"The performance is over," she continued, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper. "You can stop acting now."
Siddhant stared down at her delicate hand resting against his chest, and then slowly brought his dark, burning eyes back up to her face.
He reached up, his large, warm hand covering hers, pressing her palm even tighter against his racing heart.
"Poorvanshi," Siddhant murmured, his voice incredibly deep, rough, and entirely stripped of any pretense. "What makes you think I have been acting?"
The words hung in the quiet, dim space of the car, completely shattering the very last illusion between them.
The forced marriage, the rules, the scandal, the media, it all completely vanished.
In the heavy, electric silence of the moving car, surrounded by the scent of cedarwood and jasmine, the Devil of Delhi completely surrendered his heart, leaving them both terrifyingly, beautifully exposed to the blazing reality of their forbidden love.