Her Deviant Husband | [✓]

Chapter 18

Reyansh's pov

I stepped out of the steaming bathroom, water cascading from my hair and tracing rivulets down my chest. The black bathrobe hanging on the hook caught my eye, and I tugged it on lazily, tying the belt loosely around my waist. The heat of the shower clung to me as I moved to the window, pushing the heavy curtains aside. The city stretched out beneath me, a glittering network of lights that seemed to pulse with life, chaos, and power. My kind of view.

The faint buzz of my phone disrupted the moment. I reached for it, swiping the screen without looking at the caller ID.

"Speak," I said, my voice low, still rough from the steam and lingering quiet of the shower.

"How the hell are you always so sure about everything, you smug bastard?"

I smirked. That tone—sharp, exasperated, and carrying an undertone of fire—was unmistakable. Athira Roy.

No pleasantries, no preamble.
Straight to war, as always.

"Good evening to you too, Athira," I drawled, leaning against the cold glass of the window.

"I'm flattered you thought of me post-shower. Or was it pre-bedtime? Tell me—what's keeping you up tonight? The Shekhawat land? Or... me?"

Her exasperated groan on the other end was music to my ears. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Sehgal. You're not that charming. And for the record, if your existence could be deleted from the universe, it'd improve humanity's collective IQ by a solid fifty points."

I let out a low chuckle, savoring her fury. "Sharp tongue as always. But you didn't call just to hurl insults. What do you want?"

"What do I—?!" Her voice climbed an octave before she seemed to reign it in. "I want answers, Reyansh. You seemed so damn sure about the Shekhawat land being a powder keg. You just conveniently knew my board was planning to shove me out? What are you, psychic? Or do you have informants in my office, too? Spit it out."

I ran a hand through my damp hair, letting the silence stretch just enough to irritate her. "I have my ways," I said lazily. "But answers don't come free, sweetheart. If you want to know more, you'll have to... agree to my deal first."

There was a beat of silence on her end, followed by what sounded like a muffled scream of frustration. I pictured her pacing, her hair wild, her eyes blazing with the kind of fire that always made me grin.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" she hissed. "Why the hell would I agree to anything without knowing what I'm getting into? That's like—you're asking me to sign a blank check, Reyansh! What's next, asking me to donate a kidney for the privilege of talking to your highness?"

"Kidneys are overrated," I replied smoothly. "And I've never needed to beg for a signature. You, on the other hand, seem desperate. How much time did the board give you? Twenty-four hours, was it? Tick-tock, Athira."

She let out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. "You're unbelievable. You think you're so untouchable, don't you? Just sitting in your stupid robe, sipping your overpriced scotch, thinking you're a Bond villain or something."

I glanced at the glass of scotch on the side table and smirked.

"Careful, Athira. If you keep insulting me, I might start thinking you're obsessed."

"Obsessed? With you?" she sputtered. "Oh, please. I wouldn't be obsessed with you if you were the last man on earth and the survival of humanity depended on it. I'd sooner marry a cactus."

I laughed then, a deep sound that I knew would irritate her more. "I'd like to see that. But as entertaining as this is, you're stalling. Say yes to my deal, and I'll tell you exactly why I know what I know."