Sacred Games Of Twisted Fate {18+}

*A PART IN HIS TWISTED GAME *

***author's pov***

As Akriti attempted to move closer, Arjun's glare pierced through the air, causing her to stiffen momentarily. She tilted her head slightly, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “What’s wrong, Arjun? Why aren’t you touching me?” she teased, her tone light, yet edged with curiosity. “I mean, if you don’t even love your wife, what's stopping you?”

Arjun’s expression hardened as he shot her a warning look. “you are fucking married,” he replied flatly, his voice low and unyielding. “I won’t cheat on her, even if I hate her.” The truth hung between them, heavy and unyielding. He could manipulate Aayara's emotions without crossing that line, and he wasn’t about to complicate his game by getting involved with someone else.

Akriti raised an eyebrow, amusement glimmering in her eyes. “Oh, come on, Arjun,” she chuckled, clearly unfazed by his response. “You don’t have to be so serious. I love my husband very much. I was only testing you.” Her playful demeanor was a stark contrast to Arjun's intensity, but it only fueled his determination to keep things strictly business.

“Testing me?” he echoed, a cynical smile creeping onto his face. “You know how I feel about games. I play to win, Akriti.”

She leaned back, her expression shifting from playful to intrigued. “I can see that. But it’s just a game, right? You and I have history. There’s a connection between us.”

“History, yes. Connection? No,” he shot back, cutting her off. “My focus is on the present and what I want to achieve. This isn’t about you or me; it’s about control.”

Akriti frowned slightly, but the smirk returned quickly. “You’re as cold as ever, Arjun. It’s almost impressive.” She shifted her weight, placing her hands on the desk as she leaned forward, daring to challenge him further. “But what if I wanted to change that? What if I wanted you to remember what we had?”

“Forget it,” he said, his tone sharp as he stepped back, creating distance between them. “I don’t want to go back to anything. I have everything I need to achieve my goals.”

She sighed, realizing she wasn’t making any progress. “Fine, but just know that you’re missing out.”

Arjun narrowed his eyes, the wheels in his mind turning. Akriti was ambitious and resourceful, but she was still a pawn in his game. “You’re right about one thing,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I’m missing out, but not in the way you think. Aayara is my focus now. I will mold her into what I want. And you?” He paused, letting his words linger. “You’re just a means to an end.”

With that, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, turning his attention back to the stack of papers on his desk. The conversation had served its purpose, igniting the spark of jealousy he craved in Aayara. He had no intention of letting his past interfere with his present ambitions, no matter how tempting it was to indulge in the memories of what he and Akriti once shared.

As Akriti left the office, a satisfied grin plastered on her face, Arjun leaned back in his chair, plotting his next move. The night was still young, and the real game was just beginning. Aayara was about to feel the full weight of his manipulation, and he was more than ready to watch it unfold.

As Arjun drove home, his thoughts swirled with a mix of satisfaction and contempt. He had successfully played his game with Akriti, relishing the way she had stiffened under his glare. His mind, however, was preoccupied with his main objective: keeping Aayara under his control.

The late-night city lights streaked past, a blur of colors and shapes that mirrored the chaos in his mind. Arjun tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he considered the tangled web he was weaving. Manipulating Aayara was a delicate art, one that required precision and an understanding of her vulnerabilities.

Arriving at the mansion, he parked and stepped out, the cool night air hitting him with a sharp reminder of the world outside his head. He could feel the heaviness of the atmosphere as he walked toward the entrance, an uncanny silence enveloping the grand structure.

As he entered the house, the darkness seemed to swallow him whole. He flicked on the lights, illuminating the vast hall, but it felt empty—devoid of warmth and laughter. The remnants of the earlier party lingered like a bad aftertaste, and his thoughts drifted to Aayara.

What was she doing? Had she been waiting for him? A brief flash of guilt pricked at his conscience, but he quickly dismissed it. This was all part of the plan. Aayara’s emotional turmoil was essential to keeping her under his thumb.

He moved through the house silently, each step echoing in the stillness. As he approached their bedroom, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. He paused for a moment, listening. He could hear the faint sound of Aayara moving inside. Was she still awake?

Taking a breath, he pushed the door open, revealing her sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her face, casting gentle shadows that highlighted her features. She looked beautiful yet vulnerable, a stark contrast to the determined woman he had manipulated over the past few days.

“Where were you?” she asked, her voice barely masking the anxiety that lingered in her tone.

He smirked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Out.” He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him.

She looked at him, her expression a mix of hurt and confusion. “You didn’t even call to let me know.”

“And why would I do that?” he replied coolly, moving closer to her. “You’re not my keeper, Aayara. I don’t owe you explanations.”

Her eyes widened, and he could see the hurt etched on her face. Good, he thought. This was the reaction he wanted.

“I just…” she started, but the words caught in her throat. “I was worried.”

“Worried?” he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. “How sweet. But you really shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She looked down, biting her lip to suppress the tears that threatened to spill. Arjun felt a rush of satisfaction at her emotional turmoil. This was what he wanted—to keep her guessing, to keep her feelings in disarray.

“Why do you always do this?” she asked, frustration seeping into her tone. “Why can’t you just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Act like a loving husband? That’s not who I am, Aayara.”

Her breath hitched as he towered over her, his presence overwhelming. “You need to understand your place,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’re my wife, but that doesn’t mean I’ll treat you like one. I have no intention of loving you.”

As he straightened up, he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a sight that should have elicited some compassion, but instead, he felt a twisted sense of power. He was in control, and that was what mattered.

“Now, if you’re done being emotional,” he said with a slight smirk, “I have more important things to attend to.” He turned away, heading toward the closet to change, leaving her to grapple with her confusion and heartbreak.

Aayara sat there, tears still falling, feeling more lost than ever. In that moment, she realized that Arjun was not just a man; he was a storm—unpredictable, dangerous, and wholly captivating. And despite the pain he caused her, a part of her still yearned for his approval, for a sign that he cared.

But as Arjun changed clothes, his back to her, she knew deep down that she was only playing a part in his twisted game—a game that left her feeling more like a pawn than a wife.