Her Deviant Husband

14. The Reyansh Effect

Athira's pov.

I leaned back in my plush office chair, my fingers drumming impatiently on the desk as I squeezed the small plush toy in my hand while practicing how to make my smiles look real when I was livid. Anyways, staring at the pile of reports in front of me, all I could see was that infuriating asshole Reyansh's face, that infuriating smirk of his, taunting me, haunting me.

It had been a week.

A fucking week.

WEEK!

And every single moment of day of this week I have been agonizing over the fact that I owed him one. 

I remember how his eyes glint in a pure fucking evil way when he said "You owe me one". Before stabbing himself in the fucking arm. 

He is an absolute psychopath! 

Ugh!

What is that stupid man's deal anyway?

One moment, he was shoving me out of his apartment like I was some kind of intruder. 

The next, he was kissing me so thoroughly I forgot what oxygen felt like. 

And then, to top it all off, he stabbed himself in the arm and ordered me to get out, as if I was the crazy one. 

All I'd wanted was my damn phone back!
Instead, I got a front-row seat to his... spectacular brand of being high on who knows what?

"Why does he have to make everything so difficult?" I muttered, pressing my palms to my temples. 

Just thinking about him made my head ache. 

Reyansh had magically appeared in my life like some kind of living breathing disaster, flipping my world upside down and dumping my values and ethics in a fucking trash can! i

Another sigh escaped me. 

This man is, hands down, the most aggravating human being I'd ever encountered. 

It wasn't just that Reyansh thing. No, of course not. 

The universe had decided to crank up the humiliation factor by making sure everyone noticed the gaping hole in my usual sunny demeanor. 

Suddenly, my resting 'sunshine' face was gone, and in its place? 

A whole storm system of fury, frustration, and maybe a dash of "don't talk to me, or else."

Even Anika Malhotra, my best friend since who knows when and the reigning queen of Not Giving a Damn, had noticed. Anika, who could probably sleep through an earthquake, a fire drill, and an impending apocalypse, had actually commented on my mood.

Anyways said woman was lounged on the couch like it was her personal chaise longue, barely glancing up from her phone between sips of coffee.

She had wandered in, as usual, unbothered by the concept of "working hours" and had immediately stretched out, giving the impression that her entire job consisted of providing sarcastic commentary on my life choices.

And right now, she was doing a stellar job.

If uncle Advik hadn't asked me to let her intern at our company... I never would have. I had expected him to ask her to intern at his company but he had come to papa to tell him about how he will pamper her rotten if she interns under him and they drank about how their little princesses had grown up and cried to sleep. 

Fathers are so extra.

"Okay, Athira, humor me. How long are you going to keep this angry-villain routine up?" she asked, peering over her phone with a lazy smirk. "It's been, what, a week? People around here are starting to wonder if you've gone rogue."