Chapter 5 His POV

From the moment Arnav laid eyes on her, something primal stirred beneath his carefully composed exterior. Perhaps, something deep within him stirred a dark, deliberate instinct, whispering that this woman could be used. A substitute. A pawn. An itch beneath his skin, a hunger for chaos disguised in elegance. And Raellyn embodied it with terrifying beauty. She didn't knock when she entered his office.

She barged in like a storm breaking through locked doors, her eyes veiled behind a black mask and her grip firm on the cold metal blade pressed against his back. Her voice was steady, low, lethal.

"Marry me."

He should have laughed. Should have summoned security. But instead, Arnav froze in fascination. Even before she uttered a word, even when her face was still hidden, he could feel it. That quiet rage pulsing from her body like electricity. The kind born not from madness, but heartbreak.

Conveniently, that was exactly what he needed: a replacement partner to fulfill the societal demand looming over his head. Yet even in his calculated mind, Arnav hadn't foreseen being offered a marriage proposal by the same woman who moments ago had pressed a foldable knife to his back.

He hadn't even seen her face then only the glint of metal, the sharpness of her resolve, and the boldness in her voice. It thrilled him. No, perhaps it began even earlier, when his assistant invited her in, and he'd observed her walk: swift, assertive, yet laced with a sultry elegance. That rare blend of defiance and allure cracked something open inside him that had long since grown cold an ember of something long buried.

Arnav had doubted, at first, whether the traits he witnessed were real or part of some performance. After all, women had played games with him before. But there was something about her that stuck. Wasn't she the same mysterious girl who'd once asked him for a cigarette in the dead of night with a voice like velvet and the stance of a fighter? Wild cats, he mused, were far more thrilling than pampered pedigree pets.

And this one? She was feral.

He shook off his musings, though not the arousal pooling behind his calm exterior. When her fingers brushed the fabric of his vest so faintly it could have been accidental something sharp sparked through him. But as a man who commanded respect, he knew better than to show eagerness. Instead, he made a move that surprised even her.

With a quick gesture, Arnav reached out and pulled the black mask from her face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Raellyn snapped, lunging to snatch the mask back, but he was faster. He casually tucked it into his back pocket.

Her voice was low, firm, and even under pressure, it didn't waver. That pleased him more than her earlier coyness. If her flirtation had been her true self, he might've felt nothing but contempt. But this this fire was real.

And then he saw her eyes.

Grey, stormy, impossibly rare. The same haunting eyes he'd been unable to forget. His chest tightened, not with fear or regret, but with the thrill of fate confirming what he already suspected. Yes. It was her.

"Bingo," he said with a slow, wolfish grin. "Told you we'd meet again, Miss Raellyn."

"You're enjoying this little charade?" she bit out.

"You're the one who started the performance. And as you know, I'm a director I don't fall for poor acting. There are much better actresses out there, Miss."

"You bastard!"

He held it out of reach, smirking. "Oh, come now. Isn't it normal for a man to inspect his future bride before they sign the papers especially under these... unconventional circumstances?" He leaned back, eyes fixed on the way her throat pulsed with agitation. "I need taking a better look at the woman threatening me into marriage."

The silence that followed felt like an aftershock.

And then he turned to the desk, poured a drink cool, unbothered, masking the storm beginning to rise within him. Held the untouched glass toward her. "Drink."

She slapped it away, the crystal shattering against the floor.

"I'm not one of your actresses, Arnav. Don't hand me props."

He stepped toward her, slow, predatory. "No. You're far more dangerous. I underestimated you."

"You misjudged me from the beginning," she whispered. Raellyn's fingers curled into fists. "You think this is pain? You haven't seen pain. You think you've known betrayal? Try loving someone who turns your body into a secret. Try being left behind while the world applauds him for roles he played on-screen, when the real monster never stopped acting off-stage."

She looked like she could set the room ablaze with a single breath.

And God help him-Arnav was addicted.

"So that's how it is, huh? You want revenge."

She didn't move. Her lips pressed into a thin line, defiant. And he almost laughed. Her silence was loud, proud. A woman like her wouldn't crumble at a mere command.

"I want justice," she spat. "Your brother promised to marry me. He left me with nothing but shame, and a soul that won't stop screaming. He ruined me and you, Arnav, will be the one to fix it."

"You think I'd be your savior?" he scoffed. "You think dragging a knife into my office would earn you redemption?"

She stepped closer, her chest rising with barely restrained fury. "I don't need redemption. I need restitution."

Her voice cracked at the edge, and that crack tore something open in him. Arnav had seen women cry. He'd seen them beg. But Raellyn, she didn't plead. She burned.

"I came here," she said clearly, stepping forward and pushing the glass aside, "to demand a marriage. But not with you, originally. I wanted your brother to take responsibility. Arsene was the one who betrayed me. But after learning the truth, why would I ever lower myself to beg for him? That's why I asked you. Don't let it inflate your ego, mister. And I won't drink anything that comes from you."

He studied her for a long moment. "So you thought, marrying me would cleanse you? Or was it about dragging our family name through fire?"

"I don't give a damn about your family name," she hissed. "But I will not be remembered as the woman who got used and forgotten. You'll be the one who remembers me."

There it was the fire. The unshaken defiance he craved. Not the kind of woman who wept for affection or sold herself for banknotes. She was rage and scars wrapped in porcelain skin. And he couldn't look away.

"Fine," he said softly. "I misjudged you."

Raellyn's gaze flicked toward the untouched glass as he placed it back without protest. "Yes. You did."

He laughed quietly. Her footsteps drew closer sharp, precise, like a blade unsheathing. "You're braver than I thought."

"My name is Raellyn. And I'm not the kind of woman you can conquer so easily." She reached up, gripping his jaw, forcing his face down to meet hers. "Call your lawyer. I need him to secure special permission and to prepare our marriage contract."

His breath caught. But before he could react, his hands moved on their own. He grasped her neck gently, thumb grazing the sensitive hollow where her pulse beat fast and furious.

She wet her lips, nervous for the first time. That tremor it thrilled him.

But he stopped. Something in her eyes warned him. This wasn't seduction. This wasn't a game. Her pupils flared with something volatile. Emotion. Raw, dangerous emotion.

"So let me guess," he murmured, voice low and intoxicating. "With the way you're acting now, it seems you wouldn't mind if I accepted the offer you so boldly extended, Miss Raellyn."

Her body stiffened. Offended. "Excuse me? 'Accepted'? I'm not some cheap commodity!"

"Of course not," he whispered, eyes glinting with hunger. "But I doubt this is your first time."

His fingers traced her jaw. She inhaled sharply.

"I need to know the real you, Miss Raellyn. I need proof."

"You son of a umph!"

He silenced her with a kiss.

It was impulsive, brash dangerous. He crushed his lips against hers with the precision of a man trained to conquer, not caress. He expected resistance, perhaps even a slap. But none came.

Instead, he felt... innocence.

Her lips were soft. Too soft. Like ripe cherries kissed by dawn. When he deepened the kiss, she froze but didn't pull away. His hand cupped her face; he tilted her back slightly as if to consume her whole. This wasn't the response of a seasoned temptress. This was something else. Something untainted.

And it stunned him.

She trembled under his touch. Not seductively but honestly. As though overwhelmed. Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled into his shoulders. Her knees wobbled. Her body reacted, yes but not with practiced seduction. This was reflex. Instinct. Purity.

Arnav felt a pang one he hadn't expected.

Desire.

But not just physical. This woman... this storm wrapped in silk... was nothing like the others.

Still, the fire inside him flared brighter. He teased her lips, coaxed her mouth open, slipping past her resistance, igniting her nerves with maddening precision. Her back arched instinctively. A sound escaped her lips fragile, breathy, undone.

It undid him.

But when his hands began to wander grazing the shape of her waist Raellyn snapped back.

She broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, shoving at his chest. Her eyes blazed with something unnameable. Shame? Desire? Rage? Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, her breath uneven.

"You're disgusting!" she spat as slapped him.

Her grey eyes, stormy now, mirrored a hurricane moments from landfall. Her chest heaved with emotion. The saliva-slicked gloss of her lips shimmered under the office lights. Her face was flushed, from her cheeks to the delicate curve of her neck.

Her slap it hurt. But Arnav... smiled.

She was breathtaking like this alive, furious, trembling from more than just anger. She was a woman who had just been kissed for the first time by a man who wasn't afraid of her wrath.

"I must admit," he said silkily, "I like you more when you're angry."

And then, casually, he added with a grin, "Shall we take this straight to my bedroom, Miss Raellyn?"