anti-hero · possessive · king of ranthambore · royal lineage · arranged marriage · toxic love · dominant · wealthy ceo · regional romance · obsessive
The first pale light of dawn barely grazes the marble floors of Amar Mahal as I finish my morning run. Sweat streams down my temples, my shirt plastered to every muscle as I stand in the courtyard, lungs burning. Servants bow their heads, but I see only the ground. The palace is choked with saffron flowers and silk — every corridor glowing with oil lamps, every pillar swathed in velvet. It is suffocating. I take the towel from a servant without a word, wipe my face, and order, "Take Ajit to his stall." My voice is flat, cold. I walk inside, my footfalls echoing through halls that mock me with their opulence. "Cancel every meeting for the evening," I say without turning. My assistant's voice trembles: "Yes, your command. But your regal tunic fitting —" I cut her off with a snarl. "I kn…