Chapter 10
The air inside the Chaturvedi mansion the next morning was charged with an entirely new kind of energy.
The confession in the back of the Rolls-Royce had changed everything.
Siddhant’s words, 'What makes you think I have been acting?
', played on a continuous, cinematic loop in Poorvanshi’s mind.
The heavy, protective walls she had spent her life building were crumbling, replaced by the terrifying, exhilarating realization that she was falling deeply in love with the most dangerous man in the city.
But there was no time to pause and analyze these feelings. The world outside the mansion did not stop spinning just because her heart was racing.
Today was the Royal Delhi Polo Cup. It was one of the most prestigious, high-society events of the year, sponsored by several rival business empires. Attendance was mandatory for a family like the Chaturvedis to maintain their dominant social standing, especially following the recent scandals.
Poorvanshi stood in her suite, making sure her appearance was flawless.
She wore a stunning, soft lavender organza saree with a delicate silver border.
The light, airy fabric was perfect for a daytime outdoor event, making her look both incredibly elegant and effortlessly beautiful.
She kept her hair loose, allowing the soft breeze to catch the dark strands, and wore minimal, sophisticated silver jewelry.
When she walked downstairs, Siddhant was waiting in the sunlit foyer.
He was not wearing his usual dark, imposing business suits.
Today, he wore a sharply tailored, light grey linen suit with a crisp white shirt, the top button casually undone.
His completely clean-shaven face looked breathtakingly handsome in the bright morning light, the sharp, perfect symmetry of his jawline highlighted by the cinematic sunbeams streaming through the massive windows.
He slipped on a pair of dark aviator sunglasses, instantly adding an intimidating, mysterious edge to his flawless appearance.
"Good morning," Poorvanshi said softly, her silver heels clicking on the polished marble.
Siddhant turned towards her. Even hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, Poorvanshi could feel the heavy, burning intensity of his gaze sweeping over her lavender saree.
"Good morning, Poorvanshi," Siddhant murmured, his deep voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches away. He reached out, his warm fingers gently grazing her bare arm as he offered his elbow. "You look absolutely stunning. Are you ready?"
"Ready to face the wolves," she smiled, slipping her hand through his arm.
The drive to the polo grounds was comfortable, filled with a quiet, shared understanding. They didn't need to speak about the night before, the electric, magnetic pull between them spoke volumes.
When the black SUV pulled into the sprawling, vibrant green polo estate, the scene looked like something out of a high-end luxury movie.
Massive white tents were set up along the edge of the perfectly manicured grass field.
The bright daytime sun created stunning, ray-traced reflections off the hoods of the dozens of luxury sports cars parked in the VIP section.
Elite guests mingled, holding crystal glasses of champagne that caught the light, creating a soft, glittering bokeh effect in the background.
As soon as Siddhant and Poorvanshi stepped out of the car, the cameras started flashing. But this time, Poorvanshi did not shrink back. She stood tall, her chin held high, matching Siddhant’s powerful, unbothered stride perfectly.
They walked into the main VIP marquee, instantly drawing the attention of every single person in the room.
Whispers followed them, but they were no longer whispers of pity or scandal.
They were whispers of sheer awe. The Devil of Delhi and his elegant, sharp-eyed partner looked completely untouchable.
For the first hour, everything was smooth.
Siddhant kept her close, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back as they navigated the elite crowd.
They watched the first half of the polo match, exchanging quiet, witty commentary about the players and the overly dramatic socialites around them.
Then, Ishaan approached Siddhant, leaning in to whisper urgently into his ear.
Siddhant’s jaw tightened. "I need to take a highly confidential phone call regarding the Singhania merger," he told Poorvanshi, his tone laced with reluctance. "It will take exactly five minutes. Stay here in the VIP lounge. Ishaan will stand right by the door."
"I will be fine, Siddhant. Go save your empire," Poorvanshi smiled reassuringly, taking a sip of her sparkling water.
Siddhant gave her one last, lingering look before stepping out of the loud tent to take the call.
Poorvanshi turned her attention back to the polo field. She was perfectly content to stand alone for a few minutes.
But the moment Siddhant left her side, a shadow fell over her.
"Well, well. If it isn't the famous abandoned bride, looking absolutely ravishing."
Poorvanshi turned around slowly.
Standing behind her was Viraj Khanna.
Viraj was the heir to the Khanna Group, one of the Chaturvedi family's biggest corporate rivals.
He was in his early thirties, dressed in an overly flashy maroon suit that screamed for attention.
He was traditionally handsome, but his smile was oily, arrogant, and deeply unsettling.
Poorvanshi knew from Kabir's ongoing investigations that Viraj was secretly involved in funding Aryan’s cowardly escape to South America, hoping to use the scandal to destroy the Chaturvedi stock prices.
Poorvanshi instantly disliked him. Her spine stiffened, and her architect's brain immediately went into defensive mode, analyzing his stance and his intentions.
"Mr. Khanna," Poorvanshi said, her voice dropping to a polite but completely freezing temperature. "I believe we haven't been formally introduced, though your reputation certainly precedes you."
Viraj laughed, a loud, grating sound. He took a bold step forward, completely invading her personal space.
"Sharp-tongued. I like that. Aryan always said you were too serious, but clearly, the boy had absolutely no taste.
Leaving a beautiful creature like you waiting in a bridal suite?
It is the greatest tragedy of the decade. "
"The only tragedy here is your attempt at a compliment," Poorvanshi replied smoothly, taking a deliberate step backward to maintain her distance. "Now, if you will excuse me."
She tried to turn away, but Viraj moved sideways, blocking her path.
"Don't be in such a rush, Poorvanshi," Viraj purred, his eyes raking over her body in a completely inappropriate, highly suggestive manner.
"Siddhant is busy playing the angry king, as always.
You must be incredibly bored locked up in that gloomy mansion with a man who doesn't even know how to smile.
A beautiful woman like you needs someone who knows how to show her a good time. "
Poorvanshi’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Mr. Khanna, you are mistaking my politeness for patience. I suggest you walk away."
"Or what?" Viraj mocked, leaning in even closer.
He reached out and boldly grabbed a loose strand of her dark hair, twirling it between his fingers.
"You are just a pawn in their family drama.
You don't actually belong to Siddhant. Why don't you let me take you to dinner tonight?
I can show you how a real man treats a, "
Viraj never got to finish his sentence.
Suddenly, a massive, terrifying force materialized out of nowhere.
A large, powerful hand clamped down onto Viraj’s wrist with the brutal, unstoppable force of a steel trap.
It was Siddhant.
He had returned from his phone call, and the sight of Viraj Khanna invading Poorvanshi's personal space and touching her hair had caused his icy, calculated restraint to completely, violently shatter.
The cinematic, slow-motion atmosphere of the tent seemed to freeze. The ambient noise of the crowd faded into a dead, ringing silence.
Siddhant did not shout. He did not cause a chaotic scene. His anger was far, far more dangerous than that. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked carved from granite. His dark eyes, visible above the rim of his aviator sunglasses which he had taken off, were blazing with a raw, murderous fire.
He gripped Viraj’s wrist so hard that the bone audibly cracked, causing Viraj to gasp in sudden, sharp pain and immediately drop Poorvanshi’s hair.
"Remove your hand, Viraj," Siddhant whispered. His voice was a deadly, vibrating rumble that sounded like an earthquake waiting to happen. "Before I tear it off your arm permanently."
Viraj’s arrogant smirk vanished instantly, replaced by genuine, wide-eyed terror. He tried to pull his arm back, but Siddhant’s grip was absolute iron.
"Siddhant! Relax, man!" Viraj stammered, his face turning pale. "We were just talking. Just being friendly!"
"You do not talk to her," Siddhant commanded, stepping smoothly between Viraj and Poorvanshi, completely shielding her body with his massive frame.
"You do not look at her. You do not even breathe the air in her general direction.
If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will not just destroy your miserable company, Viraj. I will destroy your entire life."
Siddhant shoved Viraj’s arm away with such violent force that the rival billionaire actually stumbled backward, crashing into a cocktail table and spilling champagne all over his flashy maroon suit.
Several guests turned to look, gasping at the sudden physical altercation.
Viraj, humiliated and terrified, scrambled to regain his balance. He looked at Siddhant's completely lethal expression, realized he had pushed the Devil too far, and quickly turned on his heel, practically running out of the VIP tent to escape the wrath of Siddhant Chaturvedi.