#1st Book in 'Tangled Series.'
Revenge and Love, I was tangled between both of these. Once I loved but that love took everything from me, it destroyed me inside out. At that time, Revenge was my only hope. I decided Vengeance would be my endgame. I...
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“Follow what I said, nothing should go wrong in this matter. Nothing means nothing. If anything goes wrong, I will take your life. End of the discussion.” With those ominous words, I ended the call, my thumb pressing the red 'end' button with a sense of finality.
“Whose life you're going to take and for why?” Her voice, soft yet sharp, cut through the haze of my fury. I turned slowly, the threat still simmering in my gut, only to be met by a vision that shattered it all.
Oh fuck!
She looks painfully beautiful in the shining stone embellished saree. I was captivated by her presence, the way her hair sways in the air, the way her eyes sparkling, the way her skin glowing. I was completely drowned in her. My wife. Still it feels like a dream, the hangover of being freshly married is still lingering in me and I knew, this hangover would never leave.
“Excuse me. I asked you something,” her voice pulling me out of my reverie. The scent of her perfume, heady and intoxicating, filled the air around me, making it hard to think straight.
“Yeah, I was talking to Raghav about an important project.” I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to regain my composure.
“Nowadays, you're doing suspicious things, Mr. Malhotra,” she said, her gaze unwavering, boring into my soul. “Don't think I'm not seeing them all.” Her voice was steady, a hint of skepticism lacing her words.
“Nothing like you are thinking of, Babydoll. It's just a discussion of an important project,” I said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Whatever,” she muttered, her lips twisting into a disbelieving smile. Damn it! Why was it so hard to convince her? I hated keeping things from her, but this...this was something she didn't need to know. The weight of the secret pressed down on me, a suffocating blanket I couldn't seem to shake.
“Let's go, everyone will be waiting downstairs for us,” I said, taking her hand in mine, our fingers intertwining.
It was our wedding reception today, a grand affair, a spectacle. Almost every big name in the city would be there: business tycoons, influential politicians, even the ever-present paparazzi, all packed into our opulent hall.
The descent down the stairs felt like a slow-motion explosion, each flash of light hitting our faces like a volley of gunfire. My hand instinctively tightened around Riti's waist, a possessiveness I couldn't quite control. We posed for photos, smiles pasted on, but my eyes were drawn to the Mehra family, and especially to Vikram.
The second our eyes met, Riti slipped away from me like a startled bird, rushing to her brother with a speed that belied her usual composure. She threw her arms around him, burying her head in his chest, and he responded with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around her and peppering her hair with kisses.
The image was like a punch to the gut, a visceral reminder of the bond that ran deeper than anything I could offer. It took a brutal effort to understand, to accept, that her brother would always be her top priority.
