Chapter Thirty Two
Aansh's POV
The icy water slammed against my skin, each drop biting, punishing, and perfect.
I stood there under the shower, unmoving, fists clenched against the marble wall as if I could wash her out of me.
Her scent - that damned lavender - clung to me like sin.
I hated it. I hated how it wrapped around my senses, how it refused to fade even when I scrubbed hard enough to turn my skin raw.
It was everywhere. On my hands. My breath. My goddamn soul.
I twisted the knob colder, until the water cut through me like knives.
Still not enough. My jaw locked, the image of her in that towel flashing before my eyes - fragile, trembling, those wide doe eyes staring up at me like I was something between a nightmare and salvation.
My control snapped for a second, and I slammed my palm against the showerhead.
The metal cracked under the force, splattering water in a violent spray.
"What the fuck are you doing to me?" I growled into the echoing silence, every word a snarl.
I yanked a towel from the rack, wrapping it low around my waist as I stepped out.
My reflection stared back at me in the fogged mirror - eyes cold, veins sharp with anger, that monster I'd spent years feeding staring right back.
I wasn't supposed to feel anything. Not desire.
Not heat. Not the strange, twisted pull toward her.
I dressed quickly - black suit, the kind of armor I knew well. Distance. Darkness. Control. Anything to keep her out.
My phone rang distracting me from her thoughts. It was karthik. I snatched it up. "What."
"Bro, relax," his voice was laced with laughter. "I had you came with bhabhi here in goa - what's up? Honeymoon already?"
I clenched my jaw until it hurt. "It's none of your goddamn business, Karthik. Why did you call?"
He only chuckled, unfazed. "The Mehra family and the European market investors are attending tonight's event. Thought you'd want to know."
I exhaled sharply, forcing composure back into my voice. "Make sure the security is tight. No mistakes. I'll handle the rest." I cut the call before he could say another word.
I went to the room to grab my gun from the drawer i had left there earlier, but the second I stepped into the room, my breath hitched - not out of surprise, but fury.
She was there.
Ria.
Wearing the dress I sent. The black fabric hugged her curves, soft yet sinful, the diamonds at her neck catching the light.
Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, exposing her neck - delicate, vulnerable.
A canvas begging for ruin. Her back was to me, unaware I stood there.
When she finally turned, her eyes widened - startled, uncertain - lips parting slightly as if she'd forgotten how to breathe.
She always did that. Look at me like she wasn't sure whether to run or break.
And every damn time, it set something inside me on fire. It always took my while self control not to ruin her.
I took a step forward. She immediately took one back. I smirked. Some habits die hard.
In two strides, I was in front of her, close enough to feel her breath tremble against my chest. Her scent was back - faint but infuriating - wrapping around me like smoke.
I leaned down, my voice low, venom-coated.
"I don't care if you're ready or not. You have five minutes. Be late, and you'll regret it."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I... I'm ready."
Her voice cracked.
Pathetic.
My gaze trailed down to her trembling hands - so fragile, like she was made of glass.
The kind of glass that would cut you if you weren't careful.
I leaned closer, my breath brushing the side of her neck.
"Five minutes," I repeated, letting my words drip slow, dangerous.
"Or I'll make sure you remember who you belong to. "
She shivered - and it wasn't from fear alone.
I smirked, stepped back, and grabbed my coat. And gun.
By the time I reached the car, my pulse was still uneven.
I leaned against the hood, scrolling through my phone, pretending not to wait.
But I could sense her before I saw her - that same lavender note floating in the air.
She walked toward me, silent, graceful, unaware that every move of hers tore through the walls I'd built over years.
I didn't look up. Couldn't.
Instead, I slid into the driver's seat. She followed quietly, settling beside me.
The drive was silent. Too silent. Her presence filled the air, clawing at the edges of my restraint.
I kept my eyes on the road, but they betrayed me - flickering to her reflection in the window.
Her fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of purse, her lashes lowered, her body shrinking into itself.
And something inside me twisted.
She looked like prey.
My prey.
I gripped the wheel tighter, jaw clenching. I didn't want to care. I didn't want to notice the way her hair brushed her cheek, or how her lips parted every time she caught me staring. But I did. I noticed everything.
Every heartbeat. Every breath.
And I hated it.
Because she wasn't supposed to have this power over me. No one was.
When she turned slightly, her gaze flicking to me for a second - scared, uncertain - I snapped my eyes back to the road. My knuckles were white against the wheel.
If she kept looking at me like that, I'd destroy her.
And the worst part?
I didn't know whether that thought terrified me - or thrilled me.
So I pressed harder on the accelerator, the car roaring to life as if matching my pulse. The faster we went, the quieter my mind became. If I stayed in this car one second longer, I'd ruin her - maybe even myself.
But even as the city blurred past, her reflection haunted me.
Her scent.
Her silence.
Her defiance.
And the sick truth that I was starting to crave the very thing I swore to break.