Not A Simple Engineer Boy! | ✓

089 • sweet rage | two

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Scrollstck- Suganthi Lakshminarayanan

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"What!?" Xavier narrowed his eyes as she slammed the door of his fancy car with a force that made his jaw tighten. "Krithika, I love my cars more than my life. Be gentle with them."

She froze for a second, staring at him, her mind concocting a vivid, borderline cinematic plan.

I'll shatter every goddamn window, slash the tires, and douse this overpriced coffin in petrol. Then I'll set it ablaze and roast marshmallows in front of it.

It was petty, unhinged, and utterly delightful to imagine. The fact that her brain could flip between apocalyptic revenge plots and steamy visions of Xavier—preferably shirtless—was proof that she was, indeed, a very versatile woman.

"Men," she muttered, shooting daggers at him. Of course, he'd say something so absurd. What was it with men and their irrational attachment to cars, bikes, and gadgets? Even her idiot brother once wept actual tears when his precious smartwatch got a tiny scratch. This obsession with lifeless objects was baffling, like some secret cult she'd never been invited to join.

She felt Xavier's eyes on her, his gaze heavy with curiosity—or judgment. Yet he said nothing. Not a word. The silence made her skin itch. Was he blind? Couldn't he see the storm brewing in her? Why wasn't he asking what was wrong? Comforting her? Begging her forgiveness?

Oh, so we're just gonna sit here in silence while I plot your slow death. Cool.

"Let's go to your place. We can talk there," she announced stiffly, folding her arms like a disgruntled queen.

"Okay," he replied, his tone so nonchalant it made her blood boil.

Okay? Okay?! Not even a 'What happened, sweetheart? Tell me everything while I bask in your radiance?'

Her fingers twitched as she fought the urge to punch him square in his perfectly chiseled jaw. But she wouldn't stoop to barbarism—yet. Fisting her hands tightly, she turned to the window and began counting highway lights to distract herself from the urge to commit a felony.

1...2...3...is that a new advertisement billboard of The Legend Saravana Stores?

"Ma'am knows about us?"

As soon as they entered his house, she screeched her question in extreme annoyance.

Xavier didn't flinch. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he shrugged off his suit coat in one fluid motion, revealing that sinful, broad frame wrapped in a white shirt so perfectly fitted it might as well have been spray-painted on. Why did he have to look this ridiculously good all the damn time?

He stretched, his shirt tightening deliciously across his shoulders, before glancing at her over his shoulder. No words, just that infuriatingly casual glance, and then he walked away toward the living area like she wasn't standing there, practically vibrating with frustration. She caught the fatigue on his face, though—eyes a little shadowed, jaw a little too tense. He looked tired. Tense. Still hot.

Her anger faltered for a second. Was this even the right time to argue? And why wasn't he saying anything? Not even a half-assed excuse?

"I asked you something," she snapped, stomping after him like a woman on a warpath.

Finally, he turned. He crossed his arms, his gaze pinning her in place. "What does that guy want from you?"

His deep voice made her body tingle. Was it anger or lust? She didn't know. But it was so far away from her question that she stopped dead in her tracks and frowned. "What?"

"That gujju boy."

That was the final straw of the patience that she had dearly held from that early evening to avoid any fight with him. Unfortunately, he made sure to break it.

"You've got some serious balls to be jealous!" she nearly screamed, throwing her hands up in disbelief. "He's not a gujju boy! His name is Rathna, and he's my friend. FRIEND. Do you want a goddamn spreadsheet of every male I talk to? Should I start with the trash-picking Anna in the morning and end with you? Or would you like it alphabetized, Your Royal Highness?"

"I'm not an insecure dickhead who's jealous of every Tom, Dick, or Harry," he shot back, his voice rising to match hers. "But I saw you. You were fucking worried while talking to him."

Something flashed in his eyes, a flare of dark red fury that she had never seen before, not even as the boss. It scared her and she cowered. "Sorry," she muttered lowering her eyes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he thundered, his voice sharp enough to slice through her.

She whimpered.

Wasn't she supposed to be pissed at him? How did the roles reversed to the point where she had oh so royally fucked it up and angered him?

"Krithika, look at me," his voice had suddenly traveled from the burning hot volcanoes in Indonesia to the spring of tulip fields in the Netherlands. "Sweetheart, are you...did I scare you?"

Hesitantly, she raised her eyes. Her vision blurred, and she blinked rapidly, only to realize that tears—real, actual tears—had betrayed her and made a dramatic exit without her permission.

She'd cried. Fucking cried. All because Xavier had raised his voice at her for the first time ever.

Great!

A/N

If I had been Krithika, I would have slapped him. Oh, wait that's how Satya would have reacted XD

Bitching about my story characters is so much fun.

Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.