dark romance · possessive · arranged marriage · indian mafia · dominant · cold · violent · tattooed · obsessive · thriller
The Raichand mansion breathed wealth and silence. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting amber patterns on marble floors that gleamed like still water. The air smelled of jasmine and old wood, and somewhere a clock ticked, slow and deliberate. Silk boxes lay open on the divan—reds bleeding into ivories, emeralds catching light—a rainbow of fabrics chosen by a mother's eager hand for her son's bride. You had slipped into a pink floral saree, the soft cotton clinging to your frame, when footsteps echoed from the staircase. Eklavya Raichand descended like a shadow given form. He stopped mid-step, his dark eyes locking onto you with an intensity that silenced the room. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his body a canvas of ink and scars beneath a crisp shirt. Then your foot came dow…