"Khussi! Show Arnav-babua where to put the gifts!"
"Yes, Bua-ji."
Khushi wiped her hands on a towel, trying to smile at Anjali-ji – no Di – as Arnav-ji approached.
"Anj—Di, you don't have to help," she protested for the third time, "Jiji and I can handle this."
"Well, I'll help Payal-ji while you show Chhote where to go," his sister smiled cheekily.
Khushi tried another tactic, "I can take them, Arnav-ji, you can go back to the sitting room."
He's already held my hand in front of both of our families. Who knows what he'll do when we're alone.
Her pulse raced at the thought of being alone with him now, when fire zipped through her veins and she wanted nothing more than to bury herself in him.
Stay away from him, Khushi.
"No, I'll take them inside," he smiled, "but I'll need you to show me where."
Pouting, she opened the door that led to the rest of the house and ushered him through before turning into the bedroom she shared with Jiji. He stopped in the doorway to look around, and Khushi looked with him, trying to see it as he would.
Family photos hung on the walls, kept company by posters of Salman-ji, with fairy lights strung haphazardly between them. A cupboard in the corner, a chest of drawers, and a study desk lined the edges of the room, with a four-poster canopy bed taking up most of the available space. Plastic stars hung from its frame, alongside a wind chime and other trinkets that she'd used to brighten up the space.
"Is this your room?" he asked softly.
"Y-yes. Mine and Jiji's."
"You share a room? Damn."
"What?"
"Nothing. Where do you want your gifts?"
Khushi pointed at the study desk, still frowning over his words, and didn't notice him return to her after carefully depositing the gifts on its surface. The door clicked shut at his touch.
"So, Khushi Kumari Gupta," he murmured, stepping closer and closer until she could reach out and touch him, "All these gifts mean that you belong to me now."
"No," Khushi was startled into objecting, "I'm not one of your commodities Mr Raizada. You can't buy me."
"And yet," he took a step closer, "that's exactly what the Shagun is, isn't it? A deposit of sorts. We give you gifts and you're off the market ... so to speak."
"Y-yes," she admitted as she stepped backwards.
"So ..." his voice lowered as he took another step forward, "you're mine now."
"No," Khushi whispered, stepping back.
"Don't you want to be mine, Khushi?" his voice was warm and honeyed, and she shivered in response to it.
"I didn't mean ... That's not what ..." her thoughts scattered as he trapped her against the bedroom wall.
"Mmmm," he hummed, taking a final step so his clothes brushed hers, "What was that? I didn't hear you."
Her mouth opened and closed but words failed her. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart as she focussed on the buttons of his waistcoat.
"Look at me, Khushi," he whispered.
She complied reluctantly and wondered at the fire that burned in his eyes. Not anger, but something akin to hunger that left her breathless.
"I have something for you. Close your eyes."
أنت تقرأ
RISHTAA: An Arranged Love (IPKKND AU) **ON HIATUS**
قصص الهواة**ON HIATUS** (IPKKND AU) This is no longer the story of a girl who crashed a fashion show and a man who thought she was a corporate spy. It's her last year of college, and Khushi's family are looking for a husband for their youngest daughter. S...
