Aditya Kapoor's and Shradha Advani's marriage was decided more than two decades ago as a deal to unite their always rivaling mafia families. But it was something neither of them wanted.
Aditya never really cared about this arrangement as he chose t...
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The next few days were spent in bliss with Shradha taking care of Aditya. Though the man seemed very stubborn staying still, she somehow managed to get him to be locked inside the house, demanding everyone that came for him, even his brothers to be out of his sight if it was business. He needed time to heal and she knew that he was an important person and he had business to run.
But to her, he was far more important.
On the fifth day after he woke up, he was more than ready join business. Shradha stood on her tip toes, combing his hair back into a cowlick, as he seemed annoyed as ever but she didn't care. She was a tiny creature, hardly reaching over his chest.
"I told you to have it trimmed." She said out of the blue, her face annoyed at the way the one strand of his hair didn't seem to stay in place.
"I will." He said moving away making her sigh. Nothing has changed. He was still the same. Cold and distant.
She had questions buried deep inside her that she seek answers for, but she knew that he would never tell them to her. Now that he trusted her no more, it became obvious.
The truth of her mother did not seem convincing. She knew her mother wasn't a woman who would hide. If at all, she was strong enough to resist her cruel father.
Brushing those thoughts aside for later, she whispered. "Be safe."
She did not get a response as always but she was used to it by now.
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She lay in the silence of their bed alone for some time after he had gone, considering the dire nature of her situation. Shradha was just beginning to doze off when the unmistakable sound of gunfire broke through her haze.
She shot upright, clutching a blanket to her chest as she clamored out of bed and went for one of the wrought iron lamps on the end table. Eyes on the door, she ripped off the shade and jerked the plug out of the wall. She ran to the closet, slipping inside and shutting the door behind her before she took a defensive position in the darkened corner, weapon raised and ready.
She could barely hear the sound of her own panicked breathing. Beyond her hiding place, the dulled sounds of fighting continued. A loud crash made her jump, her grip on the makeshift weapon tightening as she realized the door to their room had been breached.
Outside, men were barking at one another impatiently. Shradha couldn't understand them, but she knew when they headed her way by the change of tone in the conversation. Obviously, the intruders had checked the room and knew there was nowhere else she could be hiding. She took a deep breath and readied her baseball stance, preparing to deck the first person through the door with the lamp.
She never got the chance. The closet was wrenched open and before she could take a swing at the large form filling the open frame, he fired a weapon he’d already raised. Shradha heard the vaguely familiar click of a plastic mechanism and felt the sting of a taser prongs in her belly nanoseconds before he pulled the trigger and lit her up. The world went black.
*****************
Shradha jolted awake as the vehicle hit a pothole, bouncing her against the uncomfortable bar that was pressing into her stomach. Her resulting groan was disturbingly muffled by the thick piece of material wedged between her teeth that cut into her cheeks and held her mouth open just wide enough that she could feel saliva dripping from her lip. Her brow knit as she forced her eyes open, blinking against the brightness of the light flooding in around her. She was face down, staring at the floorboard in the backseat of an SUV, if she had to guess. To her dismay, it quickly became obvious why she was so uncomfortable.
Beneath her was a strong masculine thigh. Polished shoes and suit pants, her body resting on his knees. Uselessly, she tried to flex her arms and legs. Both were bound it seemed. Her arms behind her, her ankles and thighs tied together in more than one location.
Above her, a masculine chuckle sounded just before a warm hand lifted from where it had been resting against the back of her thigh unnoticed, sliding upwards over the swell of her ass, on top of her skirt.
"Ah finally awake. Aditya fetched himself such a nice whore." Shradha bit against her gag, struggling to be still even though the man’s touch made her skin crawl like ants on parade.
"Oh look at that. He even put a ring on her finger. Didn't know he would take a wife." The man was rather enjoying the way she squirmed under his touch.
He made her sit up, slowly removing the gag. As soon as he did, she let out a scream for help. "Shut it! No one can hear you."
He clutched her hair tightly, making her look up at his face and for the first time, she caught a glimpse of his face. The man was handsome, brutally handsome but his eyes were ugly. Though a magnificent light brown colour, they contained nothing but darkness and malice.
"You are Advani's daughter." It was not a question, but rather a statement of realisation that he said to himself. The man suddenly seemed to realise that and he let her hair go immediately.
"Please let me go–" her plea was cut off.
"Do not beg. Not when you are the daughter and wife of two powerful men. It's disrespectful to them." Shradha suddenly became quiet.
"Who are you?" She managed to breath out.
With a deep chuckle he answered. "Karthik Mehra."
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A lot of readers asked me how old were Aditya and Shradha.
