Destiny For Unlikely Vows

Chapter 21

Riya Pov

I wake up around nine, feeling the soft morning light peeking through the curtains. Instantly, a flashback from last night hits me like a slap. I can still feel the weight of his body, the warmth of his lips pressing against mine. Without thinking, I scrub my lips forcefully, trying to erase the memory. How could he do that? Does he think I'm the kind of girl who would throw herself at him just because he's rich? I have my dignity, and I won't let anyone ruin it. I shake off the bitter thoughts and head to the bathroom.

After my shower, I carefully pick out something more covered-a night suit and full-length pajamas. I also make sure to wear my bra this time. No more giving him any wrong ideas. As I apply lotion, a knock comes at the door. "Madame, êtes-vous réveillée?" The woman's voice is gentle, but realizing I don't speak French, she knocks again, this time in English, "Madame, are you awake?"

"Yes, give me a second!" I reply, quickly finishing up.

When I open the door, a warm-faced woman stands there, asking if I'd like breakfast. I nod and thank her, then introduce myself, asking her name in return. She says it's Celine. I ask her what it means, and she tells me, with a shy smile, that it means "heavenly." I compliment her, saying she could be a model, and she laughs, telling me I'm beautiful too. Her kindness feels genuine and comforting in this strange place.

As I sit down for breakfast, she sets the table with a piece of bread, a croissant, butter, jam, and a glass of orange juice. I insist that I can serve myself, but she gently tells me, "Mr. Rathore instructed me to look after you." Her words stir something suspicious in me. Agastya asked her to take care of me? That doesn't sound like him. But I keep my suspicions to myself, forcing a polite smile.

I ask her to join me, but she shakes her head, explaining that the staff is required to eat before Mr. Rathore does. I nod, surprised but oddly impressed that he at least ensures this much for his staff. After finishing my breakfast, she kindly offers to wash the electric kettle in my room, insisting it's no trouble. Before she leaves, she hands me a new SIM card, saying, "Mr. Rathore wanted you to have this."

"Thank God," I think. Having a local SIM was much needed.

The next two days pass peacefully, my routine unfolding with quiet exploration of the villa and brief chats with Celine. I enjoy the tranquility of the space and the small pleasures, like the warm sunlight in the library and the view of the garden from my window. I see no sign of Mr.Rathore, which is a relief.

Finally, it's Monday, my first day at the office. The night before, I asked Celine about metro routes, and I set an alarm to ensure I wouldn't be late. When I wake, I carefully select a black jacket dress with heels, silver hoop earrings, and tie my hair into a sleek bun. Black boots complete the look; I love boots because they go with everything and help me walk confidently.

I head to the kitchen, where Celine and the other helpers are busy. She notices me and asks if I'd like breakfast, but I decline, explaining that I rarely eat when I'm nervous. Just as I'm about to leave, I see him. Agastya, standing near the entrance in a black suit, looking as sharp as ever. The man may be a devil, heartless and perverse, but there's no denying he's handsome. If only his heart were as good as his looks.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, neither of us looks away. Just as I'm about to walk past him, he calls out my name, "Riya, wait."

I stop, stunned. He's never used my name before. Part of me feels pleased for some inexplicable reason. "Huh?" I reply, barely able to mask my surprise.

He steps closer and says, "My driver will take you wherever you need to go."

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can manage."

He grabs my hand, his expression unreadable. "Just take my advice for today. It's not like I'm dying to help you. But you're in a new place, and if anything goes wrong, my grandparents will harass me for not looking out for you."

I swallow my pride and nod, feeling a strange mix of nerves and relief.

The driver introduces himself as Vincent, wishing me a polite good morning. I sit in the back seat as he begins to drive. It's early July, and the streets of Paris are lively with the golden morning sun casting long shadows. The elegant Haussmann buildings, quaint cafes, and rows of shops slowly awaken with the city. There's a certain charm in Paris mornings, a kind of calm energy that fills me with excitement.

After a 45-minute drive, we reach my office building. It's huge, modern, with glass windows reflecting the morning sky. I step out, nerves tingling, and make my way to the reception, where I show my ID card. The receptionist directs me to my workstation. I settle in, glancing around at the open office layout, high ceilings, and sleek décor.

After a few minutes, Stéphane, my functional manager, comes over. We shake hands, and he introduces me to Anna, one of the senior members of the team. Anna must be in her 40s, but she looks strikingly youthful. I can't help but marvel at how French women seem to defy age. Every woman I've met in Paris is effortlessly stylish and carries herself with confidence.

Stéphane tells me they're waiting for the architect assigned to help me with the new project I'll be working on. Soon, a familiar figure walks in, introducing himself as Ankit Singhania. My heart skips a beat. It's him-the same Ankit I once had a massive crush on back in school. I introduce myself, though he doesn't seem to recognize me.

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