"If you want this marriage to work... Just remember that I'm the one in charge."
Meheera Varma isn't your normal girl next door. In fact, coming from one of the most important gang families in the world has made her quite far from normal. Since she...
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~contains mature content~
Ajay leads me to our bedroom. I try to ask for my own, which I know there's probably over one million inside of here. Having grown up in one myself, I know what it's like. We had over 20 guest rooms alone! But this mansion, it should be considered a palace. I'll probably get lost here at some point.
"Sorry, but we'll have to share a room. And... a bed." His voice becomes lower, and I feel my heartbeat quicken. And not just in one area.
Again, I want to launch myself, but this time, down the stairs. I hate this man. So why do I feel the tiniest bit attracted to him? Maybe I'm exhausted. No, not maybe. Definitely.
I nod my head, not wanting to speak. When we reach out bedroom, I want to throw myself onto the bed and sleep for the next 100 years like in Sleeping Beauty.
The bed is king-sized, so I have enough space to avoid Ajay. Which, I can't really avoid him, but I'll take what I can get. The sheets are white, and so is the comforter. And the pillow looks like one of those that'll make your whole body sink.
"Do you need help getting off your outfit?" My heart skips a beat, and I turn around to face Ajay. Oh, of course I need help. The whole outfit is probably half of my weight. But I shake my head no, instead sitting in front of the bed, taking the pins out of my dupatta and head. I fight to urge to screech at the pain, instead letting my eyes water.
I guess Ajay is watching me. I did flinch a little, so he walks up behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder. I stop what I'm doing, looking over to see a strong hand.
"Let me at least help you with this." Too tired to even refuse, I instead reluctantly nod my head.
His fingers work through my head, each touch painful, but there's a slight pleasure that courses through my veins whenever he does. I flinch and whimper when a painful pin comes out of my head.
"Are you okay?" He asks. I nod my head, tears threatening to fall. I wipe at my eyes, hoping he doesn't notice. And he doesn't, but he keeps going, this time more gently.
When he's finally finished, I moan when he pulls off the dupatta, and I immediately feel embarrassed. He chuckles, sitting next to me.
"I know this process by now. I have 2 other sisters, Meheera. The only way you'll truly feel better is if you let me massage your head."
No, the way I'll truly feel better is if I divorce you. I bite my tongue, before I say anything to make him murder me. I opt for nodding my head again, and wow, am I glad I did. His fingers are magic. I start to imagine those fingers somewhere else, my chest feeling warm. But his voice snaps me out of it.
"I know, I know, my hands are amazing. No need to daydream, sweetie." I can practically sense the laugh that is bound to erupt from his body in the next couple seconds. I blush profusely, getting up and going to sit on the bed.
