Royal Vs Rebel (Royal #2: Book 1)

32

-• the fate of the King •-

Yuvraaj Singh Chauhan

I can't believe she bested me again.

I can't believe that in spite of knowing how damn good she is at spinning tales I still fell for her trap. Throwing my face in my hands, I groan aloud, turning around agitated and slamming my fist on the desk, rattling the stationary visibly.

"What exactly happened? Why was your phone turned off?" Zoya continues to interrogate.

I cup my face in embarrassment. What do I tell her now? That I was busy listening to a bedtime story the entire night? Scratching my day old stubble in frustration, I walk around the desk corner and settle in my chair, resting my face in my hands.

"I want to go home." I drop my hands and look up at my secretary. "Prepare the car."

"But there's an emergency board meeting -"

"Reschedule it-"

"Did you perhaps miss the word emergency?" She asks sarcastically.

"Zoya," I growl out irritated, "I'm already pissed off, don't provoke me. Reschedule the God damn meeting I don't care. I'm heading home." Ripping off my suit jacket from the chair's headrest, I stride out of the office, ignoring the inquisitive pair of eyes that follow me, half confused, half perplexed.

I avoid looking at the faces of people that have always seen me in proper attire. I'm nowhere close to that image of mine. My shirt is rumpled, hair had fought a war with my hand and I've heavy dark bags under my eyes. I'm not the Yuvraaj Singh Chauhan they're used to looking at.

I dismiss the chauffeur holding the door open for me. He closes it swiftly and hands me the car keys. Getting in, I fire up the engine and speed out of the building premises, racing down the empty roads above the speed limit. Dropping the windows open, I let the harsh winds slap me in the face to help me stay focused.

"Have you not read 1001 nights, Yuvraaj? Read it. Shahryar in that story was Zahir in this one. And tonight, both of them, were you."

My knuckles clench around the steering, turning white. I press on the gas. The winds blow harder in my face. I try not to think about her. But I fail. She played me. God damn, she played me so well. I can't even be disappointed at myself because there's no way I could have seen through her act. She knew how to reel me in and she did it so effortlessly. I'm almost impressed and that just irks me more. I can't believe she fooled me and I'm here, singing praises of her. The woman is insufferable but she's so fucking smart I feel thrilled everytime we interact. I've lived all my life without a competitor, without someone to stand in front of me and smirk challengingly, only for them to go ahead and win.

Unexpectedly, I grin.

Then I laugh.

"Oh, Yuvraaj, you were fooled by a bedtime story."

The realisation just makes me laugh harder. Any other day, if it was anyone else, I'd be planning their permanent departure from my life by now. But not her. Strangely, having her around fills me with anticipation.

What's next?

What's going to happen when we meet the next time?

How is she going to make me feel?

Angry? Annoyed? Amused? Turned on?

I lean ahead and open my phone book, scrolling down the contacts to look for hers, my attention distributed between the road and the screen. Finding her number, I click on it. She picks up on the third ring.