Chapter 1
The air in the room felt heavy.
Not because of the cold air conditioning or the silence that blanketed every corner, but because of the man sitting at the head of the table.
Aaryan Mehra!
Anaya sat across from him, stiff-backed and still, like a student forced into the principal’s office. Except this wasn’t a school. And he wasn’t a principal.
He was her soon-to-be husband.
She never thought her life would end up here. Being trapped in a room with the man who once ignored her existence, now offering marriage like it was a business deal.
She didn’t understand him. Didn’t try to.
And truth be told, she didn’t want to.
Aaryan flipped through a file, not sparing her even a glance. His sharp jaw was clenched, eyes locked on the document like it offended him. Or maybe she did. Immaculate suit. A Watch worth more than her father’s entire business. Expression? Blank. Except for the eyes. Sharp. Cold. A little too focused on her.
“You’re quiet,” he said, finally speaking. His voice was low, smooth, and razor-sharp. “Having second thoughts?”
Anaya swallowed hard. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“You didn’t say no either.”
She wanted to scream. Instead, she sat still, her fingers curling into fists beneath the table.
“You’re not being forced,” he added coolly. “You can walk out anytime.”
His hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. And those eyes—black and soulless—were fixed on her with the kind of stillness that made her stomach twist.
“I assume your parents have told you the terms,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was deep, gravelly, and devoid of warmth.
Anaya swallowed. “Yes.”
“And you agree?”
“I don’t exactly have a choice,” she replied quietly, trying to meet his gaze but failing.
His lips curved into something that looked like a smirk but felt like a threat. “You always had a choice, Anaya. You chose this one.”
She hated how he said her name. Like he owned it.
Owned her.
“But let’s be clear,” he continued, leaning back in his chair. “This is a contract marriage. Five years. No love. No emotional drama. Public appearances when necessary. You’ll have access to credit cards and driver services, but your life is mine to organize.”
“And after five years?” she asked.
“You leave. With your debts paid. Clean slate.”
She hesitated. “And you? Why are you doing this?”
Aaryan’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Because I can.”
The silence was heavy again.
She didn’t understand why someone like him would agree to marry someone like her. She wasn’t from his world. She wasn’t glamorous or impressive. She didn’t even like him.
Especially after what he’d done to her family.
But he’d made the offer. And her parents had practically wept in gratitude. And Anaya... had no one else to turn to.
She glanced at the folder in front of her. The contract.
Her name was already printed on the dotted line.
So was his.
“I want a few things added,” she said suddenly.
His eyebrow lifted. “You’re negotiating now?”
“I won’t sleep in the same room as you.”
“You think I’d touch you?” His voice was laced with ice. “You’re not my type.”
Her stomach flipped. She didn’t believe that for a second. There was something about the way he looked at her, possessive, dangerous, almost animalistic. Like he wanted to devour her whole, but would rather let her starve for his attention.
“And,” she continued, ignoring the insult, “I get to continue my studies.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how obedient you are.”
The humiliation burned her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch.
He stood up and walked around the table, stopping just behind her chair. She felt his presence before she heard his voice.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair off her neck.
“You’re a kitten in a wolf’s den, Anaya,” he murmured. “If you want to survive, don’t try to scratch.”
She turned her head sharply, standing to face him.
“I’m not scared of you,” she whispered, even though her voice trembled.
He tilted his head, almost amused. “You should be.”
Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, something flickered behind his gaze. Something deeper, darker.
He hid it quickly behind a mocking smile. “You’ll move into my penthouse tomorrow. My driver will pick you up at nine.”
“Fine.”
He picked up the pen and handed it to her.
“Then sign.”
Her hand shook slightly as she scribbled her name beside his. The ink looked permanent. Final.
As soon as she dropped the pen, he stepped close again. Too close.
“You’ll move into my penthouse tomorrow,” he said, already standing.
“And the wedding?” she asked quietly.
“Done. On paper, we’ve been married for two days.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I don’t like ceremonies,” he said simply. “And I don’t like wasting time.”
He walked to the door, paused, and turned slightly, just enough to speak over his shoulder.
“I don’t want you to pretend, Anaya. Not affection. Not loyalty. Not hate. I want obedience. That’s all.”
“There’s one more condition,” he said.
She backed away. “What?”
“You don’t ask questions about my life. Ever.”
He walked around the table again. Stopped just inches from her. His cologne wrapped around her like smoke.
“Yes,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “One rule.”
“What?”
“Don’t try to figure me out.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
He leaned in. His eyes bored into hers, dark and knowing.
“Because if you do,” he said, “you’ll either run—or you’ll stay and drown.”
