Ivaa Chahal , the sunshiny and ambitious girl who smiles all day but inside holds a world which she wants to close for once and for all and heal
Antonio king , the man of few words and the billionaire who has the aura which makes the whole room sile...
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As I opened my eyes, my vision blurred, staring at the black ceiling above me. My head felt light as I sat up, noticing the black satin sheets.
I turned my head to the right, mesmerized by the winter evening view of Manhattan.
The cold rushed over me, and I pulled the satin sheets tighter to my chest. The room was dim, lit only by blue ceiling lights.
I noticed lavender oil on nightstand as I remembered how I came here all tired and verge of crying because of terrible mood swings and periods and whole noon he massaged me to soothen my cramps and postponed his meeting to just massage my legs .
Tilting my head left, I saw him sitting on the sofa. I reached for the lamp, and when it flickered on, he came into focus: black pants, black shirt, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and his gaze fixed on me.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, he cut me off.
“WHO IS HE?” His voice was deep, demanding, and it sent a rush through me. My heart raced under his stare.
I swallowed, steady. “Who are you talking about?”
He reached for my phone, unlocking it and reading aloud.
“Since the day I first saw your photograph, I’ve been head over heels for you . It's nothing to hide about. If we proceed with this alliance i promise to look after you , love you through thick and thin .
Yours, Rahul.”
He gripped my phone tighter, his eyes darkening with possessiveness. I quickly moved to him, snatching it back.
“He—he’s my—”
Before I could finish, he pulled me into his lap, my side pressed against him .
“HE IS NOT FUCKING YOURS,” he growled, my hands on his shoulder while he clutch my hand holding phone and his other hand wrapped around my waist.
“Now tell me who is he ? “ he whispered against my ear, his voice low and full of intent .
I met his gaze, confident. “He’s my parents’ choice and my fiance. ” I said, voice firm.
My phone buzzed , the alarm reading LEAVE FOR AIRPORT.
Antonio’s eyes darkened as he read it and dark flashed in his eyes but before all this I need to leave .
“Antonio, I need to leave, or I’ll—”
“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE,” he snapped, his tone final.
His gaze made it clear—I wasn’t leaving.
“We can talk about this on the way,” I said, but he cut me off.
“IN YOUR DREAMS, BABY. YOU AIN’T GOING ANYWHERE,” he said in deep voice laced with his italian accent pulling me by my waist as satin material of my dress shifted and i gasped when our chest collided .
