NEW FF: LOVE ME NOT - Chapter 3

LINK TO PART 2

CHAPTER 3



Arnav Singh Raizada


I down my drink in one burning gulp as Aman returns to the bar, watching Khushi provocatively dance with her friends.

“Are you competing with your wife on who can drink the most?” he asks with an amused smirk. “She's on her fourth peg.”

I clench my jaw, unable to tear my eyes away from the alluring sway of Khushi's hips in that skimpy dress. “Fourth peg and dancing like I'm not even here. I don't know what I’m doing here anyway.”

Aman chuckles dryly. “Exactly my point. Why are we here, Arnav? This is seriously intruding on her privacy. We're basically stalking her.”

I shake my head vehemently, slamming my glass down. “That woman is my wife. I have every right to know what she's up to.” I point an accusatory finger towards the dance floor. “Last night she didn't return to her home. And now she's wearing that revealing dress, dancing with every guy here like some...”

I trail off, clenching my fists as waves of unfamiliar emotion – jealousy? possessiveness? – crash over me. “She's clearly taking advantage of my silence, or she's hell-bent on proving she doesn't care about being married.”

“Forget about her,” Aman says, fixing me with a pointed look. “Why do you care if she cares or not?”

I whirl on him, anger flaring hot in my chest. “Dare you ask me that again, Aman. I may not admit it, but she's my wife. I won't let a woman ruin my father's image by behaving like...like...”

Like what? A free-spirited young woman enjoying herself with friends? My traitorous mind whispers. I instantly squash that thought, refocusing on Khushi. But when I scan the dance floor again, she's nowhere to be seen.

“Shit, where is she?” I snap, rising abruptly from my chair.

Aman stands too, looking around in confusion. “Her friends are gone too. Did they leave?”

We start searching frantically, my heart pounding as irrational fear grips me. What if she left with some guy from the club? Or worse, what if something happened to her? After several fraught minutes, I finally spot her emerging from the ladies' room with her friends in tow.

She's completely sloshed, barely able to walk straight, while her friends seem relatively sober with just a slight buzz. Of course the reckless girl drank way more than she could handle, no doubt wanting to put on a show for me. As if to prove my point, Khushi suddenly stumbles, nearly falling before I reach her in two long strides.

“Careful,” I mutter, grabbing her arms to steady her petite frame against me.

She exhales a relieved sigh, leaning heavily into my chest without even looking at me. “Thank you,” she slurs thinking it’s someone else who helped her.


Lavanya immediately tries to pull her away with a scowl. “Khushi, who are you hugging? That's Arnav, your husband. Get away from him!”

At the sound of my name, Khushi's gaze finally lands on me. Her features contort in a drunken scowl as she recognizes me, shoving weakly at my chest.

“Go away,” she snarls, words garbled.

Despite her attempt to push me back, I don't even budge an inch. She's in no state to be left alone.

“You followed me all the way to the club,” she persists, putting up a fight. “Were you planning to tail me to the washroom too? I can’t even pee without your snooping gaze on me now?”

Pee? Right! She obviously had to pee after downing so many drinks. Before she can fight me further, her eyes flutter shut and she goes boneless in my arms, collapsing against me in a dead faint.

“Khushi!” Her friends all lurch towards us, trying to pull her away from my grasp, but I shake my head sternly.

“Stop it,” I growl, tightening my hold. They freeze, taken aback by my commanding tone and the alcohol in their systems.

With surprising ease, I sweep Khushi up into my arms bridal-style, cradling her against my chest. Her head lolls against me and she instinctively clutches at the lapels of my suit jacket, snuggling closer with a soft murmur. I stiffen as her alluring floral scent washes over me, her parted lips a mere breath away from the sensitive skin of my neck.

Get a grip, ASR. I give myself a mental shake, attempting to erect the walls I usually keep firmly in place around this woman - my wife in name only. Clearly the drinks have muddled my senses, blurring the lines I've been maintaining between us.

Still, there's no denying how right it feels to have her warm, soft body pressed against mine like this. Protectiveness surges through me at her vulnerable state. I tighten my hold unconsciously, pulling her closer as if shielding her from any potential threat.

God, what is happening to me? Is it the alcohol? The possessive alpha male instinct kicking in? Or something...more? Something I've refused to let myself feel for far too long?

I chance a glance down at Khushi's face, drinking in her delicate features completely devoid of the fiery defiance that so frequently sparks in her eyes when we clash. In this moment, she looks utterly at peace, her thick lashes fanning across flushed cheeks, pouty lips parted ever so slightly as she breathes softly against me. Silky tendrils of hair have escaped her hairdo, framing angelic features that are far too tempting to resist.

With considerable difficulty, I tear my eyes away from her and look at her friends instead.

“I’m taking her home. You want a ride or…”

“We won’t let you take her anywhere. She is going with us.” Payal declares.

“Dare you even touch her.” I snap but this time Aman interrupts. “Ladies, Arnav is right. We will drop Khushi home because you three are drunk too. I have called for a cab to drop you three. Let’s go.”

“What?” Lavanya comes forward poking a finger at Aman. “Who asked you to book a cab for us? We are going nowhere.”

“Cool,” he sighs. “Stay here until you want but we are leaving.”

He turns to me and gives me a nod before we push through the pulsing crowd towards the exit. Her friends trail several steps behind, no doubt wary of provoking me further after my stern dismissal.

The cool night air is sobering once we reach the parking lot. I pause, carefully shifting Khushi's weight in my arms while I signal the valet for my car. Several pairs of eyes linger shamelessly on the image we present - a wealthy, handsome man carrying his gorgeous but clearly inebriated companion.

Normally I wouldn't give a damn about strangers' assumptions. But something about their leering looks ignites the protectiveness flaring inside me once more. I instinctively tug Khushi closer, subtly angling my body to shield her from their probing stares.

By the time my car arrives, Khushi's friends have caught up to me with matching expressions of worry and fear. Pam's the first to speak up hesitantly.


“Are you sure you are dropping her home?” she asks with the slightest tremor in her voice.

Home. Such a simple word, yet laden with so much complication where my wife is concerned. Because despite our three-year marriage, she still doesn't consider the Raizada mansion her home. And if I'm being fully honest with myself, I've never attempted to make her feel welcome there either.

No more, a dominant voice inside me declares with startling conviction.

“She's coming with me,” I state flatly, leaving no room for argument.

Without another word, I turn and carry Khushi towards the idling car, leaving her dumbstruck friends gaping after us. For the first time since Khushi re-entered my life, I know exactly where she belongs.

Home. With me. At least for now.

****************

Raizada Mansion

The creak of the door opening could practically rouse the entire Raizada mansion from slumber.

“What the hell, Aman,” I murmur as quietly as possible as he nudges the main door ajar.

“I didn't mean to,” he whispers back. “And don't worry, your sleeping beauty won't stir even if you blast the Dolby stereo next to her. She's passed out, not merely dozed off.”

I grit my teeth at his deliberate teasing, stealing a glance at the woman in my arms. My wife. Khushi.

She clings to my shirt, while I cradle her as though she were a fragile doll I must shield from the outside world.

Hari Prakash enters the living room, rubbing his eyes, only for them to widen at the sight of Aman and me returning home late at night, with a woman in my arms. Clearly, he hasn't recognized her.

“What?” I scowl at him. “Biwi hai meri!”

Realizing it's Khushi, he hurriedly retreats back inside. Aman chuckles beside me. Once again, he finds amusement in my situation tonight, as if he’s watching a comical movie.

“One more time you make fun of this, Aman, I—”

“The guest room is over there,” he interrupts, pointing to the left, barely containing his laughter.

I roll my eyes. “Guest room? Do you honestly think I would take her there? Halat dekhi hai iss ki?” (Have you seen the condition she is in?)

Aman shifts his gaze between the unconscious Khushi and me.

“What if she wakes up and wanders out without anyone noticing?” I inquire, and he nods in understanding.

“Shall we lock her room, then?”

“Yeah, right, so she can bang on the door from inside and wake up the entire household,” I snap.

Damn! This guy is getting on my nerves.

“Then what's the plan?” Aman asks, bewildered.

“Follow me,” I command, turning towards the stairs leading to my bedroom upstairs.

I enter my bedroom, cradling Khushi's unconscious form securely in my arms. I lay her down on the plush king-sized bed, unable to resist brushing a stray lock of silken hair from her face. She stirs slightly at the gentle contact but doesn't wake, instead snuggling deeper into the downy bedding with a contented murmur.

A strange sense of pride and possession surges through me at the sight of her in my bed, cocooned in my personal sanctuary. Is this where she belongs? Tangled in my sheets, surrounded by my scent, safe and protected under my roof.

The sound of Aman clearing his throat breaks me from my reverie. I whip my head towards the door, suddenly remembering he's still here as my gaze meets his highly amused smirk.

“What?” I bark out gruffly, daring him to comment.

“You forgot to take off her shoes,” he points out, fighting back a chuckle. “Those stilettos will prick her feet.”

I blink, frowning as I glance down at Khushi's legs dangling off the edge of the mattress, delicate feet still encased in those dangerously high black heels. Of course. Carefully, I lean down and slip each spiky shoe off one by one, placing them neatly on the floor before gently lifting her calves onto the bed.

“By the way,” Aman pipes up again, undeterred by my warning scowl, “where will you sleep if she's in your bed?”

I clench my jaw, fighting the sudden urge to punch my so-called best friend. “Are you planning to spend the whole night in my room too? If so, the couch is yours.”

Aman lets out a bark of laughter, clearly delighted by my irritation. “So does that mean you're taking the bed next to your wife?”

Rolling my eyes, I ignore his pointed insinuation. Aman seems to take the hint, raising his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright Mr. Possessive Husband,” he relents with one last loaded glance at the bed. “I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you in the morning.”

As soon as he's gone and the door is securely locked, I sag against it with a heavy exhale. Alone at last. My gaze is inexplicably drawn back to Khushi's sleeping form, so serene and inviting amidst the tangled bedsheets. Those full, kissable lips are parted ever so slightly, practically begging to be...

I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the door handle until my knuckles turn white. What the hell was that? How can I be entertaining such lusty thoughts about a woman who is my wife? A wife I've deliberately avoided and denied for three long years.

Confused with myself, I stalk towards the bathroom and turn the shower as cold as it will go. Maybe a blast of icy water will douse this sudden inferno of uncontrollable lust that's flaring within me. As I stand under the freezing deluge, I can't escape the image of Khushi seared into my mind's eye. Water streams over my face but does little to cool the scorching heat radiating from my very core.

Emerging from the shower, I towel off and pull on a clean pair of sleep pants, and a shirt. I need to keep some barriers in place around her, before I do something reckless and self-destructive. God only knows the regret and guilt that would follow if I let my improper instincts take over in a moment of weakness.

Padding back towards the bed, I down a glass of water while studying Khushi's peaceful features. She really is breathtaking like this - unguarded, at ease, and stripped of all defenses.

With a weary sigh, I shut off the lights and climb into the side of the bed I've avoided for years. For the first time since we took our vows, I'm sharing a bed with my wife. It should be the most natural thing in the world for a married couple. But here we are, worlds apart as always, stranded on opposite ends of the vast gap that separates us.

I should leave - retreat to the couch or another guest room. Put as much distance between us as possible. Yet I remain rooted in place, gripped by a strange compulsion to simply be near her, breathe the same air, share this stolen intimacy for tonight at least.

Gradually, my muscles uncoil and my eyelids grow heavy. Just before I surrender to sleep, my fingertips inch across the sheets in her direction, seeking the warmth radiating from her body. She sighs contentedly in her sleep, shifting infinitesimally closer until every molecule between us electrifies and sets my nerve endings ablaze.


Exhaustion claims me at last - not the numb, soul-weary kind I'm accustomed to, but a deep, satisfied slumber I haven't experienced since I last slept beside someone I...

The thought dissipates, unfinished, as blackness consumes me. But in the final hazy moments before unconsciousness, I can't shake the feeling that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. Next to my wife!

****************

Khushi Gupta

A pounding headache assaults me as I slowly regain consciousness. It feels like hit my skull with a hammer. I groan, tossing in the bed, when a soft knock resonates through the room.

If it's Mom checking on me, maybe she can bring me something for this killer migraine. I rub my eyes groggily and slide off the bed, searching blindly for the door. Finding it, I yawn widely and pull it open without bothering to see who's on the other side.

“Good morning,” a deep, masculine voice greets.

Startled, my eyes fly open to find Ayush Uncle standing there with a warm smile. What is he doing here so early?

“Uncle?” I frown, rubbing my eyes again to make sure I'm not hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

His smile only widens as he takes in my surely rumpled, hungover appearance. “I just came to check on you two. Had a good sleep?”

I nod automatically before his words fully register. “Two?”

Uncle's grin grows positively devilish as he glances over my shoulder towards the bed. Following his line of sight, I turn around slowly.

And that's when I see him - Arnav Singh f*cking Raizada, still sound asleep on the same bed where I obviously spent the night. Suddenly it all comes crashing back in disorienting flashes. The club...the drunken dancing and drinking...passing out in Arnav's arms after trying to fight him off.

Oh my god, did he...did we...?

I whirl back towards Uncle, panic and confusion surely written all over my face. Before I can voice any of the million questions ricocheting around my throbbing head, he takes pity on me.

“Come down for breakfast once you've both freshened up,” he says, turning to leave with a pointed look. “We need to talk.”

Left alone in Arnav's bedroom, I feel utterly out of my depth. How did I end up here? Why would he bring me to his room, his bed? Did something...happen that I can't remember?

And more importantly - what the hell was Uncle implying we need to “talk” about?

Anger begins to override my initial disorientation as my eyes land on Arnav's sleeping form once more. He has so much to answer for, starting with why I woke up in his bed.


Locking the door securely, I stomp over and yank his blankets off in one vicious tug. Arnav startles awake with a grunt, blinking up at me in shock. I plant my hands on my hips and glare daggers at him.

“Start talking, Raizada,” I growl through clenched teeth. “What the f*ck do you think you're playing at?”

My defiant glare bores into Arnav's still-sleep clouded eyes as he sits upright and shakes off the remnants of slumber.

This is bound to get ugly, but I'm not about to back down. Not after he pulled whatever stunt landed me in his bed.


To be Continued.

NEXT PARTnull

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‘Love Me Not’ is a mix of the following Romance Tropes:

Age Gap Romance

Forced Proximity

Marriage of Convenience

Enemies to Lovers

Grumpy Sunshine

It’s not one of the usuals I have written so far. So, I guarantee you will love it. 😊


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