Her Deviant Husband

6. Unwanted Attention

Athira's Pov

"Oops. My hand slipped."
His voice dripped with sarcasm, and even though I was still standing across the room, I could hear every word. 

Everyone knew it was a lie but they didn't utter a word. As if they were too terrified to say anything.

Who the hell is this guy?
Reyansh?

The name didn't not click any where.

"Next time, maybe don't throw wine on people who are too good to even waste a breath on you." 

He shot her one last parting remark, loud enough for everyone to hear. And walked back toward me, the chaos behind him began to swell. 

Neha's shrieks filled the air, her once perfect image now dripping with red wine and indignation. The party had stopped, people murmuring to each other, but none daring to step in and diffuse the situation. Just like when she threw wine all over me. They knew how to gossip but not interfere.

Reyansh on the other hand didn't even glance back, his eyes trained solely on me.

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening as he closed the distance. 

The way he moved—like he owned every damn inch of the ground beneath him—was unsettling. His black shirt clung to his body just right, the suit jacket giving him that roguish, untamed edge, no tie to speak of. 

He was a fucking problem, and he knew it.

My breath hitched as he came to a stop right in front of me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, Sweetheart," he drawled, "I believe you owe me something."

I narrowed my eyes at him, still trying to steady the storm raging inside me.
"You didn't do that for me."

His smirk deepened. 

"Didn't I?" 

He leaned in, his voice dropping into a low whisper that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"I handled your problem, didn't I? Now, about my payment."

Before I could snap back, a venomous voice cut through the tension. 

"Oh, so this is what it's come to?"

I turned to see Neha storming toward us, her designer dress stained, her hair a sticky mess. 

But the fury in her eyes wasn't directed at Reyansh.
No, it was all aimed at me.

"You really can't handle your own shit, can you, Athira?" Neha sneered, venom dripping from her words. 

"Needed a man to come save you because you're too weak to deal with me yourself?"

Her voice rang in my ears, louder than the hum of the party, sharper than the tension that gripped my chest. 

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms so hard it almost hurt, but the pain did nothing to calm the surge of anger rising in my chest. I forced myself to take a slow breath, trying to rein in the fury clawing its way to the surface. Not yet. I couldn't lose control. Not here. Not with everyone watching.

But Neha was pushing her luck. She had no idea what was about to hit her.

Before I could snap back, Reyansh moved in beside me.

He stepped closer, too close, his body heat radiating through the thin air between us. 

His scent—dark, smoky, with a raw edge—flooded my senses, making it hard to think straight. He leaned in, completely ignoring Neha, his lips curving into that infuriatingly cocky smirk.