Destiny For Unlikely Vows

Chapter 38

When I woke up in the morning, he wasn’t in the room. Honestly, I felt relieved. I freshened up in the washroom, and as I opened the door, there he was—back in his so-called formal suit, holding some food. And once again, he had that imposing, almost monstrous presence.
What is it with him? Who the hell wears suits all the time? I’ve never seen anyone do that except him. Sure, he looks good, but if he insists on formals, couldn’t he wear something like jackets instead? A suit, all the time? It's ridiculous. I couldn’t help but laugh in my head, though I had to admit his hair looked great, and he had a nice face... and body. Clearly, he worked out. But when? I’d never seen him exercise. Then again, he’s like a monster unpredictable.
Still, I thought, if he had chosen modeling instead of business, he’d probably have been incredibly successful. Though, he’d need to work on his people skills. How he manages in the business world is beyond my imagination.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize I was staring at him, my expressions probably giving everything away. Suddenly, he broke my trance.
“Miss Riya, are you done staring at me and making faces? You can have your breakfast and take your medicine now,” he said with an arrogant smirk.
It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured on me. I was mortified, but I wasn’t about to let him think I’d been staring.
“I wasn’t staring at you,” I snapped. “I was just wondering how someone could be so arrogant.”
As I moved to sit down, he caught my arm and leaned in close, his eyes locking with mine.
“Miss Riya,” he said in a low voice, “do you want me to show you my arrogance?”
I froze. This man was impossible to predict, and frankly, terrifying in moments like these. I shook my head quickly.
“Good girl,” he said with a smirk. “Now eat your breakfast. I’ll prepare your discharge papers.”
I nodded and began eating. Afterward, I changed out of the hospital gown and back into my clothes. With no comb in sight, I tied my hair into a simple bun, put on my boots, and waited.
When he returned, he said, “Let’s go.”
I told him, “You don’t need to drop me. I can manage on my own. Thanks for your help.”
His reaction startled me. He slammed the door, strode toward me in just a few steps, and tilted my chin up with his finger.
“If you’ve forgotten, Miss Riya,” he said coldly, “from today, you’ll be working for me not only at the office but also at home. Your grace period is over, and it’s time for you to repay your debt as my maid.”
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. So this was why he had been taking care of me—because he wanted his money back. Or, in this case, its value.
I sighed. “Fine. But Mr. Rathore, I’ll come in the mornings, do the chores, and then head to the office. Same for the evenings.”
He smirked, clearly enjoying his control. “Miss Singh, you’re forgetting that I’m the lender. I set the terms of your employment, not you. You’ll pack your things and move into our home.”
The way he said "our home" sent a strange, unsettling flutter through my stomach. Shaking off the feeling, I insisted, “I’m not backing out of repaying you, so why do I have to stay there?”
His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, hovering over me. “You’ll stay at my home because I said so. I don’t like repeating myself. Is that understood?”
I nodded reluctantly.
“Good. Now let’s go,” he said.
At his request, I waited by the hospital exit. He called for the car, which arrived in less than four minutes. I gave the address to Vincent, his driver, and we began the drive. The whole way, Mr. Rathore was absorbed in his laptop, while I stared out the window, mentally preparing for the chaos ahead.
When we reached my apartment, I told him, “I’ll pack my things and take a cab to your house.”
He shot me a sharp look. “No. I’m coming with you. While you pack, I’ll attend to some work. You’ll leave with me.”
There went my chance for even two hours of peace. I nodded, resigned.
As we entered my building and got into the lift, I pressed the button for the fourth floor. When the doors opened, Ankit was there, waiting for me. Before I could react, he pulled me into a tight hug.
For a second, I was stunned. Then I realized he might have been worried.
“I’m fine, Ankit,” I assured him, though he continued to hold me like a teddy bear.
I was trying to wiggle free when Mr. Rathore’s presence loomed behind us. With one firm motion, he separated us and glared at Ankit.
“She just told you she’s fine. Let her go,” Mr. Rathore snapped angrily.
Ankit noticed Mr. Rathore and greeted him, but he was more concerned about me.
“Is she okay? What did the doctor say? Is it serious?” he bombarded Mr. Rathore with questions, completely unfazed by his rudeness.
I took Ankit’s hand to calm him down. “Ankit, listen to me. I’m fine. It was just low blood sugar. Nothing serious.”
But he kept going. “I’ll make sure you eat properly. I’ll cook all your meals if I have to—”
Before I could respond, Mr. Rathore intervened. “You don’t need to worry, Mr. Suryavanshi. She’ll be staying with me. Her grandparents and mine are too concerned to let her live alone. I’ll take care of her, as I did yesterday.”
He didn’t wait for Ankit’s reply. Instead, he grabbed my hand and began dragging me toward my apartment. I turned to silently mouth an apology to Ankit, who nodded with a reassuring smile and gestured that he’d call me later.
The moment I stepped inside, he closed the door behind us, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me close. His hand rested firmly on my waist as he leaned in.
“If I ever find him touching you again,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “I swear I’ll kill him. I won’t tolerate him near you. Do you understand?”
I nodded quickly, not wanting to provoke him further. He wasn’t in his senses, and I didn’t want to be alone with him in this state.