Unwanted [COMPLETED]

Chapter 30

Third Person's POV

"The party is tomorrow night," he says, trailing his fingers over her bare breast, admiring the red marks his belt left on her skin. "Everything must go according to my plan. Do you understand?"

She hisses in pain as he presses on the welts he created on her flesh, tears streaming down her face.

She frantically nods, unable to speak through the gag he placed in her mouth earlier.

"Speak up, Slut." He clutches her throat, cutting her breath for a few seconds before releasing his hold.

"I um..be..ann...., pweasse," she tries her best to enunciate, speaking through the gag, too scared of the man in front of her.

"Good. Very good." He pats her cheeks repeatedly, lightly slapping her. "Now go and fix yourself. You look like a messy whore right now. And don't forget to prepare a nice meal for me before you leave."

She hurriedly climbs down from the bed when he takes out the gag from her mouth and unties her hand from the bedpost.

She is about to leave the room to go to the small prison-like room he has assigned to her in his mansion when he stops her.

"Are you being ungrateful?" He asks, and she freezes at the door, understanding why he asked that question.

She was so eager to leave from his presence that she completely forgot about it.

"Ss-orr-yy, Sir." She sobs, desperately hoping he won't punish her. She won't be able to take it after what he did with her just an hour back.

"You were a good whore to me today. So, I'll be generous and let you leave now. But mind you. You'll be punished for this the next time I use you. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir."

"Say it and leave the room. You know how much I hate it when my fucktoys tend to linger around, don't you?" He says, his voice seemingly agitated, which makes a shiver run through her.

"Th-thank y-you for using m-me, S-sir. I'm honored you ch-chose me to s-serve you," she stutters in fear, and he waves his hand, signaling her to get dismissed.

Once she is gone, he gets down from the bed and walks to the bookshelf in one corner of his room.

Taking a book out of the bookshelf, he presses the buttons to open the hidden door beside the shelf.

As he enters the room through the opened door, he is welcomed by the numerous pictures of the girl who has been ruling his mind since the last time he got to lay his hands on her body.

"Nandini," he whispers, caressing one of the huge photo frames that encased her beautiful face and body. "I can't wait to run my hands on your luscious curves instead of this picture."

Trailing his hand down her picture, he recalls how her body had felt under his fingers when she squirmed in fear while he touched her.

He had first seen her when he and his parents were invited to her house on the occasion of a farewell party for her brother as he was about to leave for the States to do his MBA.

Smitten by her appearance, he had gone to talk to her.

He had been observing her for most of the night and had seen her standing quietly in a corner, not interacting much with anyone or speaking unless spoken to.

Finding that to be weird, when he asked her about it, she had told her she was upset because her brother was leaving after a week.

That had seemed plausible to him then, so he didn't ask her further questions about it. He then tried to interact with her for the rest of the night, feeling weird when she only replied in monosyllable answers.

But later, when he returned home and asked his parents about her, he discovered her status in her house.

Nandini was the daughter her parents never wanted.

Since his parents were close with her parents, they knew in detail how much her parents disliked her and how much they wished for her to get away from their lives.

At that moment, a plan hatched in his mind. A plan to covet her as his own. But he didn't want to go about it the traditional way of marriage because that was simply not his style.

Making a girl his wife means giving her a status, which he doesn't like.

He wants his playthings to be just that—a thing to play with for a while and discard them later.

And that's what he intended to do with Nandini, too. But she was exquisite. So, he decided to be patient and plan carefully before finally conquering her.

That is why, for one year, he went with his parents for the weekly dinner at her house. He slowly built a good-guy image in front of her parents. He even went as far as to invite Vivek to his club for meetups whenever he returned to the country during his vacation that year.

He also tried talking with Nandini, but she always seemed closed off. She never spoke during those dinners, too. But that was because her parents didn't let her sit at the dining table.

Whenever Vivek was not around, Nandini was not allowed to interact with the guests who came to their house. Her parents also used to tell her to eat dinner alone in the kitchen.

And she would demurely obey.

That was what made her more appealing to his eyes. Because that was the exact quality he looked for in his playthings—complete obedience and timidity.

A year later, when she turned twenty, he went to her house in the pretense of giving her a gift.

When her parents inquired how we found out about her birthday, as they never celebrated it, he told them Vivek had mentioned it to him.

That was a lie, of course. Because Vivek never talked with him about Nandini. And he also never asked because he didn't want to raise even minor suspicion about his interest in her.

So, instead of asking about her, he had hired an investigator to do a full inquiry on her. That's how he knew everything about her, from her birthdate to her likes, dislikes, friends, and favorites.

That day, when he asked her parents if he could go to her room and give her the gift, they initially seemed hesitant, telling him they didn't want to spoil her by letting her have the birthday gifts.

But they relented when he insisted.

And that was the day when he first touched her. Behind the locked door of her room, in her house, where both her parents were present.

It went on for the next six months until that fateful night when she, out of nowhere, gathered the courage to record evidence against him. Not only that, but she also showed that evidence to her brother.

That was the last night he saw her before he had to go away and lay low for a while after what happened to Vivek, or rather, after what he did to Vivek.

"But I'm back now, Nandini. Rishabh Chopra is back for you, and he'll have you soon. By hook or by crook." Rishabh smirks, caressing her photo frame for a few more seconds before picking a paperweight from the side table and throwing it right at the frame, shattering it into pieces.