“I’m with you only because it’s my duty and part of the contract I signed,”she had told him angrily.“Not because I enjoy this or want you!”
She had thought her anger would keep her from responding.
But the cold bastard knew exactly how to touch her.
“You are wet,”he had murmured, his breath hot against her ear. His thumb had brushed against her wrists, where he had them pinned on top of her head.“Your heart rate is elevated, and your pupils are dilated. You can lie to yourself, but not to me.”
He had taken her then. He broke through her defenses using strategy and low commands, watching her face until her resistance broke and she was gasping in pleasure under him.
She had come thrice.
I hate him.
Yamini glared into her teacup. “I'm fine.”
“You are definitely not fine.” Pooja crossed her arms. “Something is bothering you. What is it? Has Tina Mehta bothered you again?”
Yamini shook her head. “No. She has been sent away.”
After the office incident in the steel factory, Tina Mehta was nowhere to be found.
Yamini briefly told Pooja about the last interaction with Tina and the following office incident.
“What!” Pooja shrieked. “That’s so damn romantic.”
“No, it isn’t,” Yamini said.
“Yes, it is! He fired the Chief Minister's daughter for you! Do you know how much political fallout that could cause? And he still did it.” Pooja pressed both hands to her chest. “That is insanely romantic.”
“He fired Tina because she disrupted his project and harassed his workers, not because he was protecting me.”
Pooja grinned. “You really sat on his lap?” she said.
“Only to provoke Tina.”
“And yet, he allowed it and threw out the Chief Minister's daughter without any discussion.” Pooja tilted her head. “If that isn’t romantic, I don’t know what else is.”
Yamini ate a samosa to avoid responding.
It was good. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she started eating. She took another one and stared at the Dalview lake through the studio windows, silver in the late afternoon light.
“He is controlling,” she said.
Pooja looked skeptical. “How?”
Yamini set down the samosa.
She had not told Pooja about the midnight visits. And she didn’t want to talk about the morning after pill.
“There is a clause in the marriage contract,” she said instead. “Bharat Jogra gets to decide when I conceive.”
Pooja went still. “What?”
“He controls the timeline. When we have a child.” Yamini's jaw tightened. “I found out recently. It's in the contract I signed. Which I should have read more carefully, but I didn't, because I didn't think the contract was real.”
Pooja stared at her. “That's...”
“Controlling,” Yamini said. “That's what this marriage is about.”
