Bound in Flames

The First Clash

Tara had always hated the idea of attending a fancy gala, and being dragged to one with Raka was worse than she could have imagined. Dressed in a tailored suit and tie, he looked every bit the part of a suave businessman, but it only fueled her determination to embarrass him.

She rummaged through her closet, finally settling on a pair of loose cargo shorts, a graphic tee, and an oversized jacket that screamed rebellion. Perfect. The casual, boyish outfit was just the statement she wanted to make.

As they arrived at the grand ballroom, Tara couldn’t help but feel a mix of anxiety and defiance. The opulence of the place was overwhelming—crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and elegantly dressed guests swirling around like a sea of sophistication. Raka looked at her, his eyebrows arched in disbelief.

“Seriously?” he whispered, irritation lacing his tone. “You can’t be serious with that outfit.”

Tara shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. “Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I have to play the part of the perfect wife.”

Raka glared at her, frustration etched across his handsome face. “We have to maintain an image. You can’t just—”

“Can’t what? Be myself?” she shot back, crossing her arms defiantly. The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and almost tangible.

As they mingled with guests, Tara noticed the way Raka interacted with the crowd—smooth, charming, and impeccably poised. He was a master at his game, and she hated that she was now part of it.

Among the guests, Tara’s appearance did not go unnoticed. A group of Raka’s friends exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Is he really married to her?” one of them whispered, nudging his companion.

“I know, right?” another replied, stifling a laugh. “They look like they’re from different worlds.”

“Raka could have anyone,” the first friend continued, shaking his head. “What’s the deal here?”

“It’s a forced marriage, you know,” the third added, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “Family drama, typical. But honestly, she seems a bit… rebellious for him.”

They watched as Raka tried to guide Tara through the crowd, his charming smile faltering every time she shrugged him off. It was a spectacle, and they were here for the show.

Their evening quickly devolved into a quiet war of wills. When Raka pulled her aside into a dimly lit corner, Tara felt her heart race. “What are you doing?” he hissed, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “This isn’t a joke.”

Tara stepped closer, pushing back against his anger. “You don’t get to dictate how I dress or act. This is me!”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” he shot back, his voice low but fierce.

“And you’re acting like a pompous jerk who thinks he can control everything,” she retorted, feeling the heat of their argument rising.

As their voices barely concealed their anger, guests began to glance over, their curiosity piqued. Raka’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, pinning her against the wall.

Nearby, a couple of Raka’s colleagues stood chatting, their eyes flicking toward the two of them. “Is it just me, or is this getting heated?” one whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“Right? They look like they’re about to kill each other,” the other replied, a grin spreading across her face. “This is better than reality TV.”

“Someone should intervene before things go too far,” the first woman suggested, but neither of them moved, intrigued by the unfolding drama.

Suddenly, Raka pulled back slightly, clearing his throat as he caught the attention of a nearby group. “I know what you’re all thinking,” he began, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, my wife’s attire is a bit… unconventional for a gala.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the guests, and Tara crossed her arms tighter, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“But let me explain,” Raka continued, holding up a hand for silence. “Tara here is an incredibly talented surfer. She lives by her own rules and refuses to conform to anyone's expectations, especially mine.” He glanced at her, his expression a mix of exasperation and admiration. “I mean, who needs a formal gown when you can rock cargo shorts with such confidence?”

The laughter faded, replaced by a mix of intrigue and approval from the crowd. Some guests even exchanged impressed looks, appreciating Tara's boldness, while others glanced at Raka with new respect.

Tara could feel her heart pounding, a mixture of anger and pride bubbling inside her. She shot him a glare that could melt steel. “Thanks for that, Raka. Just because you’re okay with being the center of attention doesn’t mean I have to be.”

Raka took a step closer, lowering his voice. “If you want a fight,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear, “you better be ready to finish it.”

She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, and it made her pulse race in a way that both terrified and thrilled her. The seductive undertone in his voice hung in the air between them, charged with a tension they couldn’t ignore.

For a moment, time stood still. Their eyes locked, and the world around them faded. The heat of his body pressed against hers, igniting something deep within her that she hadn’t acknowledged before.

Tara felt the pull, the undeniable attraction lurking beneath their animosity, and it left her breathless. “I’m not afraid of you, Raka,” she whispered back, daring him to challenge her further.

Raka’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening as he searched her face, as if trying to read her intentions. “Then don’t be surprised when I fight back.”

He stepped away, leaving her breathless and slightly shaken. His retreat only heightened the tension, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Tara watched him walk away, feeling the weight of their clash lingering in the space they had just occupied.

As Raka joined a group of guests nearby, they noticed the charged atmosphere. “Looks like those two have some serious chemistry,” one of Raka’s colleagues remarked, smirking. “They could set the place on fire.”

Another guest chimed in, “I can’t tell if they’re going to kill each other or kiss.”

Raka glanced back at Tara, his eyes flickering with something unnameable. In that moment, both of them felt it—a magnetic pull, a spark igniting the air between them.