CAN AN ARRANGE MARRIAGE TURN INTO SOMETHING MORE?
Abhiraj Singh Rajvansh, a 31-year-old, stoic, intimidatingly gorgeous billionaire CEO, unfortunately with a problem with his birth chart.
The only solution: Marriage, to the girl whose chart resemble...
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Warning ⚠️ 18+
Morning sunlight filters softly through the curtains. I'm sprawled across the bed on my stomach, one leg bent lazily in the air while I scroll through absolutely nothing important.
Then, the heavy wooden door of the walk-in closet clicks open.
My fingers freeze over the screen. I don't look up immediately, but my focus shifts entirely as Abhiraj steps out into the bedroom.
He is already half-dressed, wearing a pair of crisp, dark trousers that sit perfectly on his hips, and a clean white button-down shirt that is only half-fastened.
He walks straight toward the full-length mirror near the dresser, entirely immersed in his routine.
I lower my phone just an inch, my chin resting on my crossed forearms as my eyes lock onto him.
My eyes follow him automatically.
Not even secretly anymore.
He stands in front of the glass as he fastens the cufflinks. Next comes the heavy platinum watch, as he snaps the clasp shut against his wrist.
He picks up the dark glass bottle of his cologne, pressing the nozzle twice near his jawline... the sharp, intoxicating scent of silver birch, cedarwood, and clean musk instantly cutting through the room's quiet air. And of course he doesn't forget to spray a tinge of his beloved blue cypress.
He is completely doing his thing, entirely unbothered.
And I stare shamelessly.
A sleek, black Bluetooth earpiece is tucked into his right ear. He is on a call.
"Yes, move the meeting to eleven," he says while he straightens the cufflink on his sleeve. "No, not tomorrow. Today."
There's something deeply distracting about watching him get ready.
But unfortunately...
what captures my attention completely is his throat.
Specifically, his Adam's apple moving every time he speaks.
My eyes stay there.
Locked.
His voice vibrates softly through the room while he continues discussing something about investors and projections and schedules, but I process none of it because my brain has suddenly become embarrassingly useless.
I swallow hard, my own throat suddenly feeling completely parched.
God.
Something warm curls low in my stomach unexpectedly, spreading downward until heat pools heavily between my thighs.
