Chapter 28 ✦The Gift

「 ✦ 𝐀𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐧 ✦ 」

My raging hard-on was refusing to go down because the sight that had greeted me this morning would probably also be the last thing my brain would show me in my final moments. 

When I had walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel around my waist, thinking that it would be enough to seduce the woman who had been torturing me since I had declared war on her, I was proven wrong.

Because what the fuck was that?

The moment I stepped out, the woman was standing in nothing but a towel, tapping her foot against the floor, as though she was exasperated at me taking five minutes and forty-eight seconds in the shower.

That was enough to do the job. She didn't have to do more. Her standing in a towel was enough. 

Hell, it was more than enough. 

I have had far more impure thoughts of her, even when she was fully clothed, so her being in a towel was enough.

She didn't have to look at my wet-naked chest, tsk, and shake her head.

"You don't even know that you have to wipe yourself completely before you step into the room," she had said, looking behind me. "Look at all the mess you have made!"

I had smirked. "Focusing on my body too much, aren't you, Princess?" I had said like a fool.

Like a fool!

Because at my words, she had taken one step closer, enough to be completely in my view. 

And then, she unwrapped the towel.

She threw it at me.

It hit my body with a soft thud and fell to the floor. 

But the towel hadn't landed lower than my jaw, which had dropped at the sight of her standing naked before me.

"Wipe yourself completely, Peasant," she said and walked to the bathroom. "I hate puddles."

My brain was frozen. I couldn't make sense of what had just happened.

The towel that was around her was on the floor.

Her naked body was in front of my eyes.

She walked to the bathroom naked.

She was naked.

Kanak was naked.

My dick was hard.

The car slowed to a stop, tyres crunching against the sun-warmed pavement, and I was pulled out of the reverie. 

Heat shimmered off the mirrored face of Dominion Corp's tower, the kind of building designed to make everyone below it feel smaller. I stepped out, adjusting my jacket as the wind swept the faint tang of fuel and asphalt through the air.

"The night Ma'am ran," Veer said, matching my pace as we crossed the plaza. "She called someone before she left."

I didn't need the reminder. That single, unanswered call had haunted the report. The number belonged to Dr Alex Martin, a psychologist with a reputation that bordered on myth. PTSD, trauma recovery, high-profile clients. The sort of woman Kanak should never have needed, yet somehow did.

"Is she back?" I asked as the glass doors slid open with a soft sigh.  

Inside, Dominion's lobby gleamed like a stage, white marble floors polished to a reflection, chrome fixtures catching the noonday light. The hum of conversation and the click of heels filled the air. Men and women in grey and black suits moved with that corporate precision I had always disliked. I would rather they be terrified to even get up from their seats.

"She returned yesterday," Veer said. Upon noticing me, the receptionist abandoned the desk, jogged to the VIP elevator, and swiped his card, almost tripping over his feet when he saw me.

Darsh took it without looking at him and pressed for Dhiraj's floor. The elevator rose in silence, our reflections cast in gold-tinted glass.

Kanak had called only once. It had rung. The doctor did not pick up. Then stopped. She never called again.

Why? Why call at all? Why her? And how had she even gotten Dr Martin's number? The number was her personal cell phone, not even her office number.

Veer's voice broke through the hum of the lift. "We couldn't find any prior personnel link between them. However, Ma'am was a client of hers back when she was still a child."

The elevator doors slid open with a chime. I walked out without waiting for the others.

Dhiraj's office sat at the corner of the floor, its walls made entirely of glass. Sunlight poured through, cutting harsh lines across his desk. Two men sat across from him. Familiar faces. They'd been part of the surveillance team assigned to the Haveli during my wedding.

Without waiting for the assistant, I opened his cabin door and walked in.

"Manners, Rathore," Dhiraj said, not bothering to stand. His voice carried that practised calm that always sounded like mockery. "No matter how angry you are, don't forget them."

Darsh grabbed one of the men by the scruff and hauled him up so fast the chair clattered. Rajat mirrored him with the other. I sat down in the newly vacated seat, and Veer took the one beside me. Across the desk, Dhiraj leaned back, impeccable in his grey suit, cufflinks catching the sunlight like small weapons.

The low hum of the outer office stilled. Dozens of eyes turned our way through the glass walls.

Dhiraj slammed his palm on the table. The sound cracked through the silence, sharp and deliberate. Every head outside snapped back down to their screens.

"So, where's the gift, Rajvanshi?"

Dhiraj smirked. "Too eager?" He tilted his head, glancing at the window behind me where sunlight poured in.

I met his gaze. "The only reason why I am here and even seeing your face is because you promised to make amends." Then, I smiled. "Your failure in securing the Haveli at my wedding would have been your last failure had it not been for this 'gift' you plan on giving me."

The door behind us creaked open.

"Vishesh and Neel! Did I say you could leave?" Dhiraj's voice cut through the air like a wire. The two guards froze mid-step. He didn't raise his voice, but the room tightened around him. "Close the blinds," he said. "Then stand in the corner."

The men obeyed, the blinds whispering shut, slicing the sunlight into thin, broken lines across the room.

I'd seen this side of Dhiraj too often, the calm cruelty, the way he treated obedience like a test.

He smoothed his tie, exhaled softly, as if nothing had happened. "Now," he said, almost cheerfully, "where were we? Ah, yes, my failure."

I leaned back, folding my hands. "And?"

Dhiraj smiled faintly, spinning the glass paperweight on his desk with lazy precision. "Before we get to that..." His gaze flicked to me. "Tell me. How's the missus?"

My expression stayed neutral, but my eyes sharpened. "She's resting."

"That's good," he said, catching the paperweight just before it rolled off the edge. "Kidnapping leaves scars. I imagine that's why there hasn't been a Reception Party yet?"

I exhaled, slow and sharp, already tired of this farce. This meeting was a waste of breath. Whatever gift Dhiraj was hinting at, it wouldn't undo what had happened. He had failed, plain and simple.

His men were supposed to keep everyone safe. Not just my family, not just Kanak's. Every guest in that Haveli, every minister, every actor, every name that mattered.

And the bombs at the wedding? That would've been chaos. A storm that would've torn through everything we'd built.

The markets would have crashed. The government would have come to a standstill. The Kesaris would have fallen from grace and been exposed, and that Italian infiltration, the one we never managed to trace, would have found its opening.

It would've been carnage.

But even all of that was the last thing I was worrying about. Because what mattered most wasn't politics or damage control.

It was my family.

It was her.

"She's dealing with it just fine," I said, forcing my tone to stay even. My gaze flicked to the ivory envelope resting on his desk, the reception invite, untouched. "And the reception is tomorrow."

Dhiraj smiled, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "And did you end up catching the kidnappers?"

I leaned forward, uncrossing my legs, elbows braced on my knees. "If you're done playing games," I said quietly, "tell me about this gift."

His smile faded by a fraction.

"I know you're aware of the truth behind her kidnapping," I continued, my voice low but steady. "So stop stalling and show me what you've been sitting on, because this is the last time I'll ask."

"Did you at least punch Shivansh Thakur for the stunt he pulled?" Dhiraj asked as he rose from his chair.

He walked to the far side of the office, opened a door, and leaned casually against the frame, arms folded. "Come on," he said. "Get in. Your gift is in here."

I rose from my chair and walked to where he stood while he walked back to his desk. The sight that greeted me would have been a gift to myself indeed if I were the artist behind it. 

The room was immaculate, like the rest of Dominion's high-gloss interiors, warm lamps, white walls, leather furniture, a faint trace of cologne and lemon polish in the air. Everything was in perfect order, except the floor.

The marble was smeared with blood. Three bodies lay sprawled across it, their limbs twisted unnaturally, their shirts soaked through, dark.

"You too, Vishesh and Neel," came Dhiraj's voice. "Let's continue our discussion from earlier."

Then came the sounds. Muffled grunts, the heavy thud of fists meeting flesh, a sharp gasp, shoes scuffing against the marble, something metallic clattering across the floor.

Two seconds later, Dhiraj stepped through the doorway again. He wasn't even breathing hard. One man hung limply from his arm, his neck caught in the crook of Dhiraj's elbow. The other, he dragged by the collar, his polished shoes scraping over the blood-slick stone.

Throwing the two men on the floor in front of me, the thump radiated in the room, and I attempted to make sense of the meaning of this. 

Only one possible reason came to be.

I looked at Dhiraj, who was busy fixing collars and cuffs. 

"With this, I have removed the blot in the name of Dominion Corp., Rathore," he said, and simply stared at the men, who groaned and writhed on the marble floor. If they opened their swollen eyes, they could see their battered look reflected in the polish.

"Why knock out these three?" I asked, eyeing the grotesque heap of men who were moments away from death.

Dhiraj shrugged. "They are not my employees," he said. "The five of them infiltrated the regiment, and the two who are still able to speak are the brains behind the operation."

I tilted my head. "So, that was your revenge?"

Dhiraj looked into my eyes. "I fired their entire regiment for failing to recognise five unknown men, who planted bombs in a location they were supposed to protect with their lives. They had to pay." He then turned on his heels to walk back into his office and pointed at another door on the opposite side of the room. "That will lead you to the back door exit. Take the garbage with you and shut the door on your way out."

With that, he walked away.

Signalling at the men, Darsh and Rajat, took out the Swiss knives from their socks and opened their mouths. They cut Vishesh's and Neel's tongues, and as the blood pooled in their mouths and spilt out, their moans had turned into deafening screams. "Hmmm... maybe Rajvanshi did not do a good enough job in making them pay, considering they are still screaming," I said. 

With the tongues in their hands, Rajat and Darsh hid them between the small sofa cushions, under it and inside it. 

"Let's go," I said, and Darsh and Pajat picked up the two men, and Veer walked over to open the door. 

"What about those three?" he asked.

"They could rot here for all I care," I replied and walked behind Darsh and Rajat, who had the men slung over their shoulders. "If Rajvanshi thinks that handing these men off was enough to make amends, he was wrong."

We entered the elevator. Even this man's secret getaway part of the building was as luxurious as the front of his business. 

"And the tongues?" Veer asked, his voice echoing in the parking.

"When he realises that Sir has left the bodies in the room, they will clear them out," Darsh said.

"But they won't know that the tongues have been cut off. And the tongues would keep rotting, and that smell would linger in the air until they find them," Rajat completed.

"But why the tongues?"

"Because a missing finger, ear or toe is noticeable," Rajat replied.

Veer opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. It was only after we had already deposited the men in the trunk and were on our way to the hideout was when Veer finally said the thing that was eating him up. 

"But that would just... it would just annoy him, won't it?" He asked.

"That's the plan," I replied simply.

The ride went silent at the absurdity of my reply, and I hated it. Not because it was a silence of judgement. No! It was because the silence made me think about the woman I was trying so hard to forget.

Her naked body, a body I couldn't even glimpse at, because she was able to catch me off guard. That idea of her standing naked was enough to make me regret the challenge I had thrown at her.

She was clearly winning.

The car came to a stop, and the front gate of the safe house came into view. And so did the events of the night she had me thrown out of the house.

The door opened, and Papa signalled to me to come in. I entered the house, defying Tara Maa's order for the first time in my life.

"So, how's the marriage?" he asked, handing me a glass of whiskey. 

I just looked at him.

He smirked. "You have no idea how much I am enjoying this!"

"Oh, I can tell," I replied.

"So, what had happened?" He asked. 

"Who cares," I groaned and slumped into my chair. 

There was silence in the living room, but then he broke it. "Something has been bothering me since this wedding took place," Papa said.

I waited for him to continue. 

"How is she not afraid of you?" He asked, and I froze in my chair, the crystal glass a few centimetres away from my lips. "She has seen that part of you, and yet, her behaviour hasn't changed."

I took a sip. "What do you mean?"

"She still pokes fun at you. She still calls you names. She makes sure to humiliate you in front of the family, and yet, she is not scared to trigger that side of you."

I placed the glass back on the side table. "And?"

"Tara and I were planning on talking to her about it and explaining. But as we noticed that her behaviour is still the same, we decided against it. But my question is why. Why is she not afraid? Why is she not more cautious?" 

'Because she is a fucking warrior princess who isn't scared of me,' I thought. 

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"It should." He sat straighter. "If she is in denial and thinks it won't happen again, we have to ensure that she knows that it might. If she is repressing that memory, we have to get her help."

'Oh, she remembers, alright. She knows who I am and exactly what I am, and yet, she isn't scared of that side of me, the way Maa was.' "Let's observe the behaviour and see what happens."

"From the looks of it, even if she has accepted it, she doesn't care." He gulped the last of his vodka. "I mean, all the drama to kick you out, not knowing if that side of you will surface or not."

I looked at him. "So, you knew the truth, and you didn't defend me."

He shrugged. "If it's between her and you, I am choosing her."

I blinked. "Which means that my family has abandoned me, now that she is here."

He nodded. "Pretty much how it goes around here."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So, who will take my side?"

Papa smiled and got up from the chair, walking back to his room. "Win her heart and she will." 

With that, he turned around and walked away, not before throwing, "Now get out of the house before Tara sees you," over his shoulder.

Looking at my watch, I walked into the building. "How is Karan faring?"

Darsh looked at me. "His injuries are healing. But, he will take time in recovering completely."

"Good."

They brought the men out of the trunk and were transporting them to the building. 

"Veer, prepare for food and sleeping arrangements for tonight," I said. "We have some interrogation to do, and something tells me that these crows won't croak easily."

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