“Congratulations on fifty years of your company, Mr. Kapoor,” Rudra replies, shaking his hand.
Mr. Kapoor’s gaze shifts to me as he smiles at me with a small nod. “Ah! So the rumors are true.” He chuckles. “You have a beautiful wife.”
Rudra tenses beside me, and I squeeze his arm in reassurance.
“Yes, this is Shivani. My wife.” Rudra introduces us with his fake smile, and I shake my head in acknowledgement.
“Enjoy the night,” Mr. Kapoor says, raising his glass before walking away, leaving us alone.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I mutter, trying to lighten the mood, as I turn to him.
Rudra laughs, leaning down and kissing my cheek.
“Yeah, it wasn't. But that doesn’t matter.” He whispers near my ear, nibbling on it.
“Rudra.” I chastise, as I pull away from him, a small laugh escaping from my mouth.
“You look irresistible, baby,” he whispers, his voice like velvet. “I want to take you right here.”
His hand slides down, cupping my ass with a light squeeze. I gasp, scandalized but maybe, maybe a little thrilled too.
“Rudra,” I hiss, half mortified, half exhilarated.
“Relax, baby,” he says, brushing his lips against my neck. “I won’t do anything… yet.”
I can feel my body responding, heat curling low in my belly. His hand on my waist, the slow circles he draws on my hip—they’re setting me on fire. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Mr. Malhotra!” Someone calls him from behind, but he doesn’t move his hand. I flush, struggling to stay composed.
"How are you?" The man now in front of us asks.
“Fine,” he answers the greeting and shakes hands with the man.
“I need to use the washroom,” I blurt out, unable to even look at the man in front of me. I step away before I combust on the ballroom floor. Rudra raises an amused brow, but I don’t give him a chance to speak. I head toward the hallway, grateful to escape the crowd. But I don’t go to the restroom. I lean against the wall, trying to collect myself. My heart is still racing, my skin still tingling.
God, that man. He knows exactly how to undo me with just a look. I wait a minute, expecting him to follow. I’m half-smiling, ready to tease him when he arrives. When I hear footsteps, I hide behind a pillar, prepared to jump out.
“Boo!” I shout. But my grin wipes off my face as I stare at the man.
It’s not Rudra. It's a man in his sixties standing there, smiling in a way that twists my stomach.
“Remember me, sweetheart?” My blood runs cold. I know that voice. It is a little wobbly, but I can never forget this voice. Or this man. I know him. Panic sets in as I try to back away, but he grabs my arm. His fingers are tightening around my arm.
“Let go of me!” I try to shake him off, but he’s strong.
He laughs, low and menacing. “Your father sent me to remind you what a slut you are.” His words slice through me like glass.
“Will your husband still want you when he finds out how you used to let men like me touch you?”
Tears stream down my face as I fight, my voice breaking. “No. Please… stop.” His hand roams, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Disgust crawls on my arms as I wriggle in his grip.
I hear footsteps. Someone calls my name, and I shout as loud as I can, "Rudraksh!"
The man lets go instantly. “This isn’t over,” he hisses and disappears into the shadows.
My knees buckle, and I slide to the ground, heart pounding, chest tight. I can’t breathe. Everything is spinning. I feel like I’m drowning in fear and shame and panic. Voices reach my ears, but they sound distant and muffled. I try to focus, but my vision blurs. Everything around me slowly fades.
Then I hear his voice. My husband. “Shivani!” His voice echoes, heavy and blurry. But I can’t respond to it as black dots appear in my vision.
