Annika- The Scorned Wife

9. The Attack

Annika

It's been a week since I became Mrs. Ranveer Malhotra, and if I thought I had any clue about what this marriage would be like, I was dead wrong. The days have blurred together, a chaotic mix of confusion, tension, and that damn sexual pull that's been making everything harder—no pun intended.

That morning after our wedding when I woke up in his arms, with his hard-on pressed into me, still haunts me. I could feel him losing control, just for a second, and it was both terrifying and thrilling.

When I woke up that day, pressed up against him, my first instinct was to pull away. But something stopped me. The way his body tensed, the way he bit back a curse—it was clear he was affected by my closeness. So I did what any woman on a mission would do: I made it worse. I shifted ever so slightly, pretending to still be half-asleep, and felt the heat of his frustration radiating off him.

It wasn't intentional at first, but once I saw the effect I had on him, I couldn't resist. I arched my back, stretched my legs, moved my hips just enough to press against him. It was a small victory, watching him squirm, knowing that I could control him, even in such a small way. But I realized quickly that I needed to ease up on the games. Too much, too soon, and he might catch on.

So, I've kept my distance since then. I've played the dutiful wife, polite and distant, waiting for the right moment to push forward with my plan. My time will come. Once we move into his penthouse, away from the prying eyes of his family, I'll have the perfect opportunity to start getting what I want. But for now, I've focused on building relationships with the Malhotra family.

Since then, we've barely spoken, just circling around each other like predators, neither willing to make the first move. He keeps himself busy, coming home late, sometimes not at all. It's like he's avoiding me, and that only makes me want to push his buttons more.

But I can't be too obvious. I'm playing a long game here, and it won't do to let him know he's getting under my skin—or that I'm trying to get under his. I've caught him looking at me a few times, with that dark, intense gaze that makes me feel like I'm standing naked before him. But he always pulls back, always reins it in before anything happens. It's maddening.

The Malhotras have been welcoming, sure. His mother, sweet as honey, dotes on me like I'm the daughter she never had. His sister, Vidhi is sweet, fun, and we've already bonded over shared glances at family dinners. His brother, Arhaan, is a charmer—a little too much of one for Ranveer's liking, I've noticed. There's a tension there that I can't quite place, but it's obvious Ranveer doesn't like how close Arhaan's getting to me. Which, of course, only makes me flirt back more, just to see that vein in Ranveer's neck pulse.

Annoying my dear husband is my favourite pass-time these days.

But Ranveer? He's like a brick wall. Cold, unyielding, and impossible to read. The only time I saw a crack was that morning when I accidentally—and then not so accidentally—pressed my body against his. Since then, he's been distant, aloof, and it's driving me crazy.

Today, we're leaving the Malhotra mansion. Moving into Ranveer's penthouse, where, presumably, we'll have to start living like a real married couple. As I say goodbye to his family, I can't shake the feeling that something is about to change—something big. His mother hugs me tight, whispering that I should take care of her son, like I have any idea how to do that. Vidhi gives me a knowing smirk, like she expects me to have him wrapped around my finger in no time. As if. And Arhaan, well, he kisses my cheek and gives Ranveer a look that speaks volumes.

But Ranveer? He's already at the car, looking impatient as hell, like he's got a thousand more important things to do than wait for me. Typical.

The car ride is silent, which suits me just fine. I'm too busy planning my next move, thinking about how I'm going to use this newfound privacy to my advantage. I'm staring out the window, lost in thought, when suddenly there's a loud bang—like a gunshot. The car swerves violently, and I grab the seat, my heart leaping into my throat.