Wrecked King ⚜ The Elite's (Indian Mafia Romance) ⚜ 18+

o n e

Hello kittens,
For so many days I've been contemplating whether to publish this chapter or not and I can't anymore. I'll just publish it coz in so EXCITED for VINA
VI for Vikram
NA for Naina

I hope you will love the story.
It's an Indian based story, so you'll see Indian culture in the chapters. Of course, as an Indian myself I'm not perfect with culture because India is a versatile country and all the states have different traditions and different cultures.

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Naina

I am sitting on the four-poster king-size bed in the east wing of Rathore Haveli located on the outskirts of Delhi with tiny tremors buzzing through my veins.
A lone haveli away from the prying public eyes, far from the polluting air. Off from everyone, an ancient heritage mansion concealed in between the tall pine trees- a world of its own.

I am plopped on the bed, my knees drawn towards my chest, hands hugging my knees- a traditional sitting stance for any newly wedded Indian bride.

My gaze lingers on the heena staining my hands. Once Nani had said, the darker the colour of the bride's heena, the more passionate will be the love of her husband. As a young girl, I dwelled in a fantasy of marrying a prince. However, as I grew up that fantasy became a horrid reality to bear.

My mind wanders back to the day when Baba told me about this marriage. It was a plain, simple conversation. He didn't beat around the bush.
The news of my wedding was like a silent arrow hitting the bullseye that being my heart shattering into tiny slivers.

"You are going to wed Rathore. Make preparations with your mother." Baba had said- instructed.
Commanded.
He didn't care how or what I was feeling. I was stunned, horrified at the bomb that had dropped on me. Mutely I had nodded registering Baba's words into my brain.

Being born in a family like ours is a both -privilege and a curse.
One could have lavish luxury yet, nothing. 
There's only one Rathore Baba would have wanted me to wed.
The one I'm waiting for currently. 

Vikram Rathore.

The sole heir to his father.
The Royal.
Once the Prince.
And now the King.  

The following day Ma had appointments reserved with numerous fashion designers, family jewellery makers and our family pandit. After six months of hassle, everything was arranged. Starting with my customized bridal lehenga to the makeup artist, and the decorators. Ma had everything under her control.

The bridal lehenga which is a customized piece from one of the elegant fashion designers Sabyasachi weighed ten times more than my normal body weight. With all the heavy jewellery I'm wearing I'm amazed by the strength I held in the whole wedding ceremony. I was too scared that I would trip over.

The lehenga is rich maroon. An auspicious colour for the bride, customized of velvet fabric with intricate, heavy embroidery embellished gota patti design. The needlework was so ornate one would forget to breathe. The veil is transparent red, border trimming with white Hyderabadi pearls and dainty floral designs hand-sewn in gold thread. The train runs up to 30 feet long. My heels- another pair of the customized Dolce and Gabbana, gilded and embedded with Aurelian flowers and veins. After all, this was a royal wedding.