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The way his words sounded, the sudden predatorial gleam in his eyes—all of it made her blood sizzle. He pushed an inch closer to her, and her heart drummed in her ribcage. Her skin was suddenly too warm. She felt like she was losing control of her mind and body. Like he was casting a spell on her. It was too much. He was too much. She had to get away from him.
Shutting her eyes, she slumped in his arms. His hand fell from her mouth. His hold on her slackened. Using that to her advantage, she butted her head with his jaw. His head flew back. The top of her own head rang in pain, but she ignored the sharp sting. Pushing him, she went toward the door leading out of the kitchen.
She turned to face him. He was watching her with a mix of awe and surprise. He ran a hand down his jaw. A bruise was beginning to form there.
She ignored it. “Guest or not, I want you out of my house. Either you leave the way you came, or I’ll ask the security to escort you out. Those are your only options.”
Her heart still thudding in her chest, she swivelled and exited the kitchen, hoping never to set eyes on this man again. There was something about him that disconcerted her, and she didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit.
2
Rajiv Mehra was stunned. He stared after the woman who’d managed to get the better of him. His jaw still stung like the devil at where she’d managed to head-butt him. A laugh bubbled in his chest. If his friends ever learned that a woman had bested him like this, they’d never let him hear the end of it. He was an expert fighter. He was trained in all forms of street fighting. He could hold his own in any fight. But this one woman had managed to outsmart him.
Sheena Sehgal—the Sehgal Princess. He’d figured out who she was the second she’d announced he was intruding in her house. Not only was she gorgeous, she was brave, sharp, and definitely trained in some form of self-defence. And damn, if that wasn’t a sexy combination. Apart from being attractive, she was a whole lot intriguing as well. He’d been drawn to her from the second she’d held a knife to his throat. Fearlessly. Boldly.
And then, having her in his arms, holding her captive… Fuck, he hadn’t been able to think. He pressed a hand to the side of his throat where the minx had managed to nick him and smiled. So, distracting! He’d been too bloody distracted by her, and that was the only reason why she’d managed to get the better of him. He sighed.
Grabbing a tissue from the kitchen counter, he wiped the blood from the side of his throat and followed her outside to the main house, ignoring her threat to call security.
He stopped at the threshold of Sheena’s living room, taking everything in. He recognized popular film stars, movie directors, models, and various other celebrities. Taking a deep breath, he walked further inside the vast hall. He knew what would happen next. Heads turned, eyes widened, and people began to talk about him. He knew what they’d say even before they’d said it.
Playboy.
Casanova.
Heart breaker.
Womanizer.
These were just some of the terms he’d ensured followed him everywhere. For years, he’d kept the media attention focused on himself, but on his terms. He was known to be a party animal, attending a different event every night, with a different woman. He’d put out the image of being extravagant and debauched in his private life, while being ruthlessly cold in business. The business side of him was true. The other side, not so much. Being the owner of Poseidon Shipping Corp did not allow him to live a life in the shadows, and he used that to his advantage every single day. But the media here in Mumbai was relentless. They dogged your footsteps all the time, and that was something he couldn’t afford. He didn’t mind dealing with the media, but on his terms, always.
Living in Dubai, thankfully, made it easier for him to control the narrative of his life. There, he could at least have some semblance of normalcy. He could choose when he wanted to be in the public eye. But of late, he was so damn tired of it all. Tonight, seeing hordes of reporters waiting outside had almost made him turn his car back around.
He wasn’t in the mood to be in the eye of the media storm. He didn’t want his pictures to be clicked. He didn’t want to answer any questions. He didn’t want a nosy reporter to get interested in him and start following him around. No. That was the last thing he needed. He had secrets, ones that needed to stay secret. He couldn’t afford them getting exposed. That was one of the reasons he stayed out of the media’s radar in Mumbai. But he had promised his parents that he’d attend this event tonight, and Rajiv Mehra always kept his promises.
Thus, he’d decided to find another way to enter Sehgal Mansion. The lights randomly going off had caused momentary chaos among the media present. He’d used that as an opportunity and snuck in easily. Except that he’d run intoher. Even now, he couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he recalled his encounter withher. In front of him, Sheena sauntered gracefully, her head held high, regal like the princess he knew she was.
As if sensing him, Sheena turned. Her eyes flared when she realized he’d not heeded her threat and was, in fact, standing right behind her. He gave her a naughty wink, irking her further. She took an agitated step toward him, but a couple crossed her and rushed to Rajiv. His face broke into a smile on seeing his parents.
His mom caught him in a hug.
“Oh, my darling,” she gushed. “I’m so happy you’re here. What took you so long?”
His dad held his shoulder. “Was it the media outside? Did you get stuck? You really ought to stay away from them, you know. I hate the way they constantly portray this flamboyant and outrageous image of you when you are anything but. It annoys me.”
“It’s fine, Dad,” he replied.
His parents knew he was a media favorite. While his mom didn’t mind the attention he got, his dad was always worried about him. He disliked the image the media projected of his son. Little did he know, it was all orchestrated by Rajiv. That every interview he gave, and every picture of his that was clicked, was very carefully crafted and planned to portray the image of a wild, carefree party-goer—someone who wasn’t dependable, someone who didn’t want to be burdened by any responsibility other than that of his business. And he had no choice but to keep his parents and everyone else close to him in the dark about his real reasons for remaining in the spotlight.
“You both look good,” Rajiv told them.
And they did. His mom looked elegant in her black sari, while his dad looked dapper in a dark grey suit teamed with a white shirt. In terms of looks, Rajiv knew he had the best of both their features. He had his dad’s eyes and his mom’s wide forehead and patrician nose. Sara and Anvay Mehra had always been a good-looking couple, and till date, they projected elegance and grace when they walked together.
His mother grinned. “How are you? And the girls? How are they?”
“You’ve only been gone a month, Ma. Not much has changed since then.”
“I know that,” she said. “But parents are allowed to constantly worry about their children.”
