Be Mine

37. He is a beast😈

                        A K R I T I

It felt like I’d been asleep for a year, floating in some dreamless void, where time had stopped. But it was a comforting sleep—deep, warm, and so tempting that I wanted to sink back into it forever. My eyelids fluttered open, and almost immediately, a sharp pain stabbed through my head like a knife, sending me spiralling into reality.

I blinked against the brightness of the room, my head pounding with each heartbeat. The fog in my mind was thick, but flashes of last night began to break through—Joravar Bhai, Adi, the echo of a gunshot. Fear gripped me, cold and unyielding.

I forced myself to sit up, heart racing, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. My breath hitched in my throat when I realised I was alone. Where was he? The panic tightened in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I frantically searched the room, and my gaze landed on a note resting on the bedside table. I reached for it, but as I moved, a dull, unfamiliar ache pulsed between my legs. Confused, I pushed the comforter aside and froze.

I was wearing his oversized T-shirt—nothing else. Not even my panties. My stomach twisted with a sudden surge of anxiety. I scanned the room, and there, in the corner, lay my panties, torn and crumpled on the floor like a discarded secret.

What happened last night? My heart pounded louder. I felt a cold sweat forming on my forehead. I tried to remember, but my thoughts were hazy, like trying to hold water in my hands. Did something happen between us? Did we…? Oh god, did we have sex? I couldn’t remember. Fear and confusion mixed together in a sickening cocktail in my stomach. My hands shook as I grabbed the note.

Unfolding it, I read quickly, desperate for answers.

*Good morning, baby.*

*I’m sure you have a lot of questions right now, but relax. I’ll answer all of them. Just drink this and take the medicine on the table. It’ll help with your hangover. Then, call me—I’ll explain everything.*

*Bye-bye.*

I stared at the note, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration. His words seemed casual, like this was just another day, but I felt anything but calm. My eyes shifted to the glass of water and the two pills beside it. Hangover medicine. My head throbbed painfully, and my mouth felt like sandpaper. I grabbed the glass and swallowed the pills, hoping they’d clear the fog in my mind and the tension knotting in my stomach.

I needed to talk to him—now. I reached for my phone, fingers trembling, and saw the time: 10:30 a.m. Shit. I was already late for work, my schedule blown to pieces. Panic clawed at me from every side, but I dialled his number, pressing the phone tightly to my ear, desperate for answers. It rang only once before he picked up.

“Hello, baby,” he said, his voice warm and calm, like this was any other morning.

“Where are you?” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips. I needed him here, beside me, to make sense of this whirlwind of confusion.

“I’m on my private jet,” he replied.

“What? Why? Where are you going?” I asked, my panic rising with each word. I could barely control my voice, and he must have heard the urgency.

“Relax, I’ll explain everything. Just breathe for me, okay?” His tone was gentle, steady, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. I took a deep breath, trying to follow his lead, feeling the pounding in my chest slowly ease.

“Yesterday, Dad sent someone to attack you. That gunshot you heard—it was meant for you. Joravar saved you just in time, but he took the bullet,” he explained, and my heart sank into my stomach.