Prologue
I drew in a long, shaky breath. His lips still lingered against my cheek; his arm remained locked around my waist in a tight, possessive grip.
Slowly, he pulled back. My eyes fluttered open to find his gaze burning with an intensity that sent a sharp shiver down my spine. One of his hands stayed firm against my waist, while mine rested instinctively against the side of his neck, our fingers still tightly interlocked.
Holding my gaze, he murmured, “I just gave back what you took from me.”
I froze. I was still hazy from the heat of his skin, my breathing uneven and shallow. He let out a low, throaty laugh at my dazed state. Leaning in until his breath brushed the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Hello, Partner.”
I frowned, the word feeling out of place in the electric silence. Then, realization hit me like a physical wave, and a sudden warmth flooded through me. “Partner?”
The moment was shattered as a roar of cheers erupted from the stadium outside. Suddenly, the weight of everything crashed over me: the betrayal, the revenge, the mess we had become. My heart hardened. I yanked my hand from his and shoved him back.
He didn’t resist. He took a smooth step back, finally granting me the space he’d so shamelessly stolen. My eyes burned, not with fury, but with a stinging sense of shame. What were you thinking, Vritika?
My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket, breaking the tension. It was Divya. I answered instantly, desperate for the distraction.
“Vritika, Where are you? We are two wickets down!”
“Wait, what?! I’ll be there in a second!” I snapped, my voice finally finding its edge.
He was still standing there like he owned the world, hands shoved into his pockets and that goddamn smirk on his handsome, no, his infuriating, face.
Get a grip, Vritika. This was the man who didn’t trust you. This was the man who had almost ruined your brother’s life. Ugh, I wanted to punch him.
I leveled a glare at him, pointing a warning finger. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Rathore,” I snapped.
I turned and walked away without looking back, but I didn’t miss the low sound of his laughter trailing behind me.
I will show you exactly who Vritika Sharma is, Rudra Rathore.
