Soft sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, falling gently across the room that still carried the warmth of the previous night.

Richa stirred first.

For a moment, she didn’t move—just lay there, her head resting against Aryaman’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It felt… unfamiliar. Safe, yet unsettling.

Her fingers tightened slightly over the bedsheet as memories of the night flickered through her mind—not in detail, but in feeling. Intense. Overwhelming. Consuming.

She tried to move quietly, but his arm around her waist tightened.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deep, slightly husky from sleep.

“I… I was just getting up,” she whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, dark and sharp even in the morning light. For a second, he simply looked at her—like he was memorizing her.

Then, without warning, he pulled her back against him.

“Aryaman…” she gasped softly, her hands pressing against his chest.

A faint smirk touched his lips. “So eager to run away in the morning?”

“I’m not running,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear. “Doesn’t look like that.”

Her cheeks flushed.

He noticed. Of course he did.

His fingers tilted her chin up gently—surprisingly gentle for a man like him.

“Look at me.”

She hesitated… but did.

For a moment, the air shifted. The intensity was still there, but softer now… calmer.

His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek. “You’re still here,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

Richa didn’t reply.

She just looked away.

That was enough for him.

He let her go… but not completely. His hand lingered at her wrist before he finally released her.

“Go,” he said, voice returning to its usual composed tone. “Before someone comes looking.”

Downstairs, the house was already alive.

Staff moved around quickly, preparing breakfast. Aryaman’s mother sat in the living room, her presence calm yet authoritative.

Richa stepped in hesitantly, adjusting her saree.

“Good morning, beta,” his mother smiled warmly. “Come, sit.”

Richa nodded, sitting beside her.

“You must be tired,” she added gently, her eyes soft but knowing.

Richa’s fingers tightened in her lap. “I’m fine, aunty—”

“Mom,” she corrected with a small smile.

Richa nodded. “Mom.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, today is your first morning here… you should make something sweet for everyone. It’s a tradition.”

Richa froze for a second… then nodded. “Of course.”

The kitchen felt overwhelming.

So many people. So many eyes.

She insisted on doing it herself, even as the staff tried to help.

“I’ll manage,” she said quietly.

She wasn’t used to this.

But she tried.

Carefully, she started preparing kheer—her hands slightly trembling as she stirred the milk. The heat, the pressure, the unfamiliar environment… it all got to her.

And then—

“Ah!” she winced sharply.

The hot milk splashed slightly, burning the back of her hand.

One of the staff rushed forward. “Ma’am, please—”

Before anyone could say more—

“What the hell is going on here?”

The voice cut through the kitchen like a blade.

Aryaman.

Everyone froze.

His eyes went straight to Richa… and then to her hand. In two long strides, he was beside her.

“Show me.”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to pull back.

“I said—show me.”

This time, his voice was quieter… but far more dangerous.

She slowly extended her hand.The skin was red.

His jaw tightened.

He turned sharply to the staff. “What are you all here for? Watching her get hurt?”

“Sir, she insisted—”

“I don’t care what she insisted!” his voice rose, cold and furious. “If something happens to her, every single one of you is responsible.”

Silence fell instantly.

Richa blinked, startled.

This… wasn’t what she expected.

Without another word, he took her hand gently—so gently it felt like a different man entirely—and led her out of the kitchen.

In their room, he made her sit on the bed.

“Don’t move.”

He brought a first-aid kit, his movements precise but tense.

Richa watched him quietly.

This was the same man who terrified everyone downstairs.

Yet here—

His fingers were careful as he applied ointment to her burn.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, not looking at her.

“A little,” she admitted softly.

He paused… then blew lightly over the burn to cool it.

The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that her breath hitched.

“You don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” he said after a moment. “Not like this.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I know what you were trying to do,” he cut her off, but his tone wasn’t harsh anymore. “But you’re not alone here.”

That line lingered.

Not alone.

She looked at him, confused by the unfamiliar warmth in his words.

He finally looked up at her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, slowly… he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against her injured hand.

Richa froze.

“Aryaman…”His eyes met hers again—intense, but no longer cold.

“Be careful,” he murmured.

Something shifted inside her

He straightened, his expression returning to normal.

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll handle everything downstairs.”

As he walked away, Richa sat there, staring at her hand… where his lips had just been.

And for the first time—She didn’t feel like running.

CH 15- OFFICE ROMANCE (17+)

Richa stepped into the grand lobby of Aryaman’s corporate office, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her posture was straight, chin lifted—confidence wrapped around her like a shield.

The receptionist looked up, scanning her from head to toe with a faintly dismissive expression.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her tone already edged with impatience.

Richa’s lips curved slightly. “No.”

“Then I’m sorry, ma’am,” the receptionist replied coldly, “Mr. Aryaman doesn’t meet anyone without a prior appointment.”

Richa let out a soft breath, leaning slightly over the desk. “You might want to inform him that his wife is here.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, almost amused. “We get these claims quite often. Please don’t create a scene.”

For a brief second, silence hung heavy.

Richa’s eyes hardened, but before she could respond—

A deep, dangerously calm voice cut through the air.

“She doesn’t need an appointment.”

Both women turned.

Aryaman stood a few steps away, his sharp gaze fixed on the receptionist. The entire atmosphere shifted instantly—employees nearby froze, sensing the storm.

“S-sir…” the receptionist stammered, standing up hurriedly.

Aryaman walked forward, each step controlled but filled with authority. His eyes flicked toward Richa for a second—softening—before returning to the receptionist, now cold as steel.

“You just denied my wife entry… and insulted her?”

“I didn’t know—”

“That’s the problem,” he interrupted sharply. “You didn’t think before speaking.”

The lobby fell dead silent.

“Collect your things,” he said flatly. “You’re done here.”

The receptionist’s face went pale. “Sir, please—”

“I don’t repeat myself.”

She stood frozen as security was silently signaled.

Aryaman turned to Richa, and just like that, the anger melted from his expression.

“Come,” he said softly.

Inside his cabin, the heavy doors shut behind them, cutting off the outside world.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Richa crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You fired her… just like that?”

Aryaman loosened his cufflinks, his gaze never leaving her. “She disrespected you.”

A small smirk appeared on her lips. “You’re scary.”

“And yet,” he stepped closer, voice low, “you walked in here without fear.”

Richa didn’t step back. Instead, she moved around his table and casually sat on it, crossing her legs,he sat infront of her close on his chair.

Without breaking eye contact, she slowly lifted one foot and placed it on his thigh, her expression challenging.

“Now what will you do, Mr. Aryaman?”

For a second, the air turned thick.

Aryaman looked down at her foot… then back at her face.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“Wrong place,” he murmured.

Before she could react, he gently held her ankle—not rough, but firm—and lifted her leg away from his thigh.

Richa’s brows raised, amused.But then—

He placed her foot softly against his chest, right over his heart.

Her breath hitched.

“This,” he said quietly, his voice losing all sharpness, “is where you belong.”

The boldness in her eyes flickered… just for a second.

“You act tough outside,” he continued, his fingers still holding her lightly, “but in here… you forget I know you.”

Richa leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping. “You think you know me that well?”

His gaze darkened, intense but controlled. “Enough to know you came here not just to argue.”

A small silence stretched between them.Then she smiled—slow, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“Maybe I came to see,” she whispered, “how much power I really have over you.”

Aryaman exhaled softly, almost amused.

“Too much,” he admitted.

"But now,I have to see how much power is left inside you after yesterday night"He said standing and leaning close to her face,making her gulp.

"Aa...Aryaman.."

" Yes baby"

" I still hate you...you know that"..She said..

"I know..very well"He pulled her more closer to him..

"I hope you remember,we are in your office" She murmured.

" Clearly" He admitted and dipped himself kissing her.

While his hands reached to button of remote ,to lock sensor door and windows.

He bit her hungrily,while untucking her saree pallu,as he looked at her, removing his blazer,he throw on chair behind him.

Untucking plates of saree from waist,he removed it.

"It's hard to wear saree" She admitted.

" I will help you" He muttered kissing her shoulders and neck.He rolled her petticoat at her waist, removing her innerwear, without any warning,he inserted his finger,her hand clutched his shirt.

He shift his hands to her thighs ,she gasps softly arms wrapping around his neck.

This time she kissed him desperately ,his hand reaching to his belt opening it and button it goes down around his ankle her bare legs wrapped around his waist and removing his boxers too.He pulled her more closer by hips, rubbing his erection on her clothed core,which make her throw her head back with a whimper.

Aryaman lose it.

His mouth finding the biens from his lips on her neck.He suck it hard enough to make her moan.

Her breath stuttering,legs tightened around him .as she took his name in most sensual way- Aryaman.

He easeup with wet kisses over the red mark he left on her neck, soothing it before I placed a another kiss hungrily.

He pushed her slightly made her lean back on the table,as she supported herself with her elbows looking him.

He lean down slowly sitting down, leaning his hands closer to her core, removing her innerwear too in one go,he dipped his face on her core, nibbling it.

Her hands reaching his shoulders to scratch.He runs his tongue around me as her thighs squeezes.His tongue lapping at her folds, tracing the edges of entrance , flicking against her throbbing clit.She couldn't hold herself,she exploded a little with a whimper,him sucking every inch of her.

He slipped his two finger around her, inserting it with a rhythm pace not mercy.

And soon it is replaced with his cock,no asking,just pushing himself in her,as she moans louder.His hands grabbing her bossoms tightly. He leaned forward on his palms hovering her with rhythmic pushing only increasing his pace,he holds her ankle taking her toe in his mouth,he put her leg on his shoulder, grinding himself in her.

He flipped her,her bossoms touching the cold glass of table,when he pushed himself again in her,just rhythmic pace..Not stopping.. claiming marking her to him.

The tension grew,urging for a release,he moved his pace more and finally releasing himself in her..They cleaned themselves.

"Help me..to wear saree" She said as she took her saree.

" I only know how to remove"

She glared him,but he only kissed her.

" I still hate you" She said.

" I love you too baby" He winked .

And for the first time since she walked in, the tension between them shifted… not into a battle—

But into something far more dangerous.

Ch 16- HURT

The evening was loud.

Too many people, too many voices, too many fake smiles.

Richa stood beside Aryaman, dressed perfectly, looking like she belonged there… yet feeling completely out of place.

Her fingers lightly held the edge of her saree, eyes quietly observing everything.

Aryaman, as always, was calm. Powerful. Untouchable.

Until someone spoke.

"Aryaman, you always had a taste for elegance… I still remember how perfect you and Natasha looked together."

Richa’s fingers froze.

The name… unfamiliar, yet sharp.

The woman standing in front of them smiled politely, but her eyes slid toward Richa with a hint of judgment.

"No offense," she added softly, "but she’s… quite different. Simple."

The word simple didn’t sound soft.

It sounded like less.

Richa didn’t look at Aryaman immediately.

She waited.

Just one second.

Two seconds.

Three…

She thought he would interrupt. Shut it down. Say something—anything.

But Aryaman remained silent.

Watching.

Calm.

And in that silence…

Something inside her quietly cracked.

She smiled.

A soft, practiced smile.

"Excuse me," she said gently, stepping away before anyone could notice the shift in her eyes.

The hallway outside was empty.

Quiet.

Richa stood there, her back against the wall, taking a slow breath.

She wasn’t crying.

That was the strange part.

No tears… just a heavy feeling in her chest.

Like something had sunk deep inside.

A few moments later, Aryaman walked out.

His gaze immediately found her.

"Richa."

She looked up at him, her expression calm… almost too calm.

"Yes?"

That single word felt distant.

Aryaman stepped closer, studying her face.

"Why did you walk out?"

She held his gaze for a second… then looked away.

"I didn’t feel like standing there."

Simple.

Controlled.

But not her.

Aryaman frowned slightly.

"You’re overthinking it."

That made her smile again.

But this time… it hurt.

She looked back at him, her eyes finally showing something fragile.

"Am I?"

He didn’t respond immediately.

And again…

That silence.

Richa took a small step back.

"She compared me."
Her voice was soft, not accusing—just stating.

Aryaman’s jaw tightened slightly.

"People talk."

That wasn’t the answer she needed.

She nodded slowly.

"Yes… they do."

A pause.

Then she added, her voice even softer:

"But you didn’t."

That line lingered between them.

Heavy.

Sharp.

Aryaman’s eyes darkened.

"I didn’t think it was necessary."

Richa let out a quiet breath, almost like a small, broken laugh.

"Exactly."

She looked at him again… and this time, there was no anger.

Only hurt.

"You didn’t think I was necessary to defend."

For the first time, Aryaman didn’t have an immediate response.

Because that wasn’t true.

But somehow… it sounded true.

Richa straightened slightly, regaining her composure.

"It’s fine," she said.

And that “fine” felt wrong.

Empty.

"I understand now."

Aryaman stepped forward, his voice lower.

"Understand what?"

Richa held his gaze for a long moment.

Then said quietly:

"My place."

Something in his chest tightened.

Hard.

Before he could say anything, she moved past him.

But this time…

She didn’t brush against him.

Didn’t look back.

And Aryaman stood there, unmoving.

Because for the first time—

Her silence didn’t feel peaceful.

It felt like distance.

And he didn’t know how to close it.

"Why I am thinking,I hate him..just hate" She muttered in her mind and left towards her room.