Decision

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CHAPTER FOURTH

DECISION

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A person suddenly entered his car, diverting his attention from his iPad. The intruder slid into the vehicle without permission, causing him to murmur, "What the..." before he complete, a familiar scent hit his nostrils.

Her scent

It was her scent - that distinct "rose petal" fragrance he recognized. He examined the person closely, confirming it was indeed her. She was shivering, panting, and covered in sweat, her face buried in her lap.

She wore a peach, loose t-shirt and straight-fit dark jeans, her hair tied in a high ponytail. But when her hair fell open, swaying around her waist and kissing her shoulders, she looked even more gorgeous.

He asked her, "What happened to you?" His voice held a concerned tone. She jolted at his cold, almost sinful, voice, not expecting to find him there in the car. But she had to admit, his choice of vehicle was quite impressive.

What fuck she is thinking?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, then looked up at him. Their eyes met, and her heart leapt to her throat. She began to say, "I'm--" but he interrupted after closing his eyes, turning his head somewhere from her, "First sit straight," as her t-shirt was giving him a view of her cleavage.

She wrinkled her nose and looks at his pointed finger, her eyes widen with horror; she immediately presses her palm on her chest and sits straight. Embarrassed, she shut her eyes tightly, mentally berating herself.

Fuck

He waited for her to give him permission to open his eyes. The person who didn't need to ask or take someone's permission is patiently waiting for her.

After long minutes, she accepts; he saw it, and her cheeks heat up with it. She controls her then turned her gaze outside, relieved to see no one was chasing her anymore. She sighed, then turned back to him, who was still closing his eyes, waiting for her approval while chewing his lower, pink lip. She licks her lips, and chill currents run her body.

Her gaze fell on him - he was wearing a white shirt with the top buttons undone, paired with dark blue pants, no tie, and a jacket beside him. She bit her lower lip, swallow her mouth full of saliva, lost in him as always.

Her widen when he suddenly spoke, "Highness, can you stop glaring at me and give me your precious permission to open my eyes?" in a seductive tone.

She need to control her eyes.

She cleared her throat and said, "I'm not glaring at you. You can open your eyes. Why were you waiting for me?"

He opened his eyes and smiled, saying, "I could have, but I didn't want to break your trust and this type matters, consent of women's crucial," she snapped towards him. He pauses and adds, "and you too are lost in me, so I let you."

She again stared at him, but with different emotions. He called her "darling." She came to her senses, but his word hit her and reminded her of him.

her 'nightman'

Gathering her courage, she opened her mouth to ask him something, but he beat her to it, "Now tell me what happened to you. Why were you panting like you ran a marathon? Is something wrong? Tell me, and trust me," he said in a gentle, soft tone.

Her brown gaze met his green eyes, and her heart urged her to trust him and let him help, but her rational mind prevailed. How could she trust someone she had met only briefly, five hours ago, and was here to cancel their marriage?

She firmly stated, "Listen, me very carefully," and he softly said, "I'm hearing," and her heart melted, but she stopped it to melt more and said in the same tone, "Then it's good for you, mister. Whatever happened with me is my problem, not yours. Don't dare step in."

He smirked inwardly, thinking, "Not for too long, darling. I'll never interfere in your matters, but I won't also let you face them alone. This marriage may be inconvenient, but you're still my responsibility, and I need to take care of you."

However, his thoughts were interrupted by her harsh words, "And every man like you tries to control women, trying to make them slaves for themselves; they use them for their own needs. They never try understand what we feel. So never ever try asking me what happened with me." Her voice was loud and hurtful.

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he gazed at her intensely. A shiver ran through her, and she felt a fire on her body.

She turned and opened the car door, but he gripped her wrist firmly yet gently. He clenched his jaw barely to control his anger, asked She froozed, trembled, and feels it's difficult to take breath.

He asked her in his cold and sinful voice, "Where are you going?" His eyes intact to her back.

She turned and reached for the car door, but he seized her wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. His jaw tightened as he struggled to contain his rising anger. She froze, trembling, finding it difficult to draw a breath.

In a voice laced with cold seduction, he inquired, "Where do you think you're going?" His gaze remained fixed on her back.

With determination, she replied, "Release my hand." When he remained silent, she turned to face him, her voice rising in intensity, "LET GO OF MY FUCKING HAND!" She yanked her wrist away with such force that her nails left marks on his skin.

In that moment, he recognized a different kind of fear in her eyes; it was not merely fear, but something deeper. He restrained himself for her sake, but his anger had reached a boiling point, his eyes ablaze with fury. As she attempted to turn away again, he halted her with a thunderous declaration, "IF YOU DARE TO MAKE ONE MORE MOMENT, YOU'LL WITNESS A SIDE OF ME YOU NEVER KNEW EXISTED," a promise laced with menace.

She flinched but remained still, refusing to turn back. Observing her shivering form, he spoke again, his tone icy yet controlled, "Where are you headed? Just give me a straightforward answer." His voice was loud, yet there was an unsettling calmness beneath it.

Though he did not touch her, his gaze felt like a physical force.

Regaining her composure, she stammered, "I-I thought we agreed to meet today?" Her words faltered, and he took note.

He countered, "Are you stating that or inquiring?"

Her back felt scorched under his intense gaze as she replied, "So, I'm-" He interrupted, "Turn around and say what you want." His deep, alluring voice compelled her to obey.

She turned to him and said, "I'm going to the place you chose for us to meet." As she looked down, he hummed softly, and her gaze drifted to his soft, inviting lips, causing her to bite her bottom lip. He noticed her distraction and smirked.

A moment later, he stated, "It's not far. You will accompany me." She immediately objected, "No, I can't." He responded, "I'm not asking you." While her consent mattered, but she attempted to flee.

She once more refuses and begins to turn away, but his words halt her in her tracks. "Do you wish for me to touch you and ensure you sit properly?" he inquired, merely to prevent her departure. He had no intention of touch without her consent, and given the unease reflected in her eyes at his mere touch, he knew that was the least he could do. His curiosity about her intense reactions lingered.

As she prepared to turn back to voice her objections, their attention was drawn to the figure who had opened the driver's side door by her presence; his gaze locked onto hers, and hers onto his.

But, another's eyes darkened with fury; a surge of rage coursed through him, prompting him to clench his jaw and fist tightly, striving for control. In a dangerously low voice, he commanded, "Look. Down." A shadow of something more sinister laced his tone. She blinked and down her gaze, as did the driver.

He reiterated with the same menacing tone, "If you dare to look at her again, I will ensure you won't see the light of day tomorrow." His words dripped with a lethal warning.

The driver nodded, his face pale, and stammered, "I apologize, sir." His intentions had been innocent; he was simply taken aback by the sight of a girl in his boss's car, especially seated so closely beside him. Having served him for over a decade, he had never before encountered a woman in his presence.

She was surprised by his actions, wondering what his motives were behind. He said something to him. The car started moving, but her eyes remained fixed on him. She had never felt this way before - someone had spoken up for her. He turned, his green rest on her brown; and their eyes locked, lost in an awarded silence.

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They walk into the restaurant, him moving ahead of her and she silently but swiftly follows. He halted on his step, slamming his firm back into her head. Whimpering, she put her hand on her hitched place.

She whispered, "Why do you stop?" as he observes her movements, her hand resting on her head.

"Walk beyond me," he uttered in a sinful and frigid voice and ingore her question. Despite her desire to argue, as his eyes told her not to, she sighed and followed his advice.

He trailed behind her at a leisurely pace, synchronizing his strides with her delicate steps, his dark green eyes appraising her from head to toe, taking every inch of her body. she is strolling idly, her long hair cascading gracefully with each movement. This sight brought him a sense of tranquility, soothing him both mentally and physically.

But, a frown creased his brow as an interruption disrupted his serene view. A woman in her thirties stepped into their line of sight, she approached him. "Good evening, Mr. Khurana. How are you?" Aayesha turned, and he responded with a cool detachment, "Good evening, Ms. Hasina," his tone calm yet distant. He chose not to respond to her inquiry, his gaze fixed on Aayesha, who had turned her head to glance back.

The other woman continued, her voice dripping with sweetness, "Allow me to guide you." Aayesha raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. The lady was clad in a crisp white shirt, the top buttons left open, revealing an enticing glimpse of her cleavage, paired with a pencil skirt that accentuated her curves flawlessly. Her hair was styled in a tight bun.

As the woman approached him, he spoke in a sultry tone, "Guide her, and I shall follow her." He turned his attention to her, his finger pointing subtly in her direction. The woman beyond him frowned and shifted her gaze to Aayesha, and her eyes were filled with a surprising hatred.

With a smile, the lady urged, "Come with me, ma'am." Aayesha nodded, a smile gracing her lips as she followed the woman, while he trailed behind, one hand casually tucked into his pocket.

She paused when the woman came to a halt. With a gesture of her hand, she remarked, "This is your table, ma'am," accompanied by a smile that was entirely insincere. Although she could perceive the falseness of the smile, her awareness was dulled by the warmth radiating from the man standing just a step behind her. She inhaled his chilling scent, and a rush of heat coursed through her veins.

Before departing, the woman offered a parting remark, "Enjoy your dinner, Sir, ma'am," as she drifted back into a semi-conscious state.

She returned a smile and a nod, while he hummed softly from behind her. She pondered, "Why the hum? Can't he express something more meaningful? And why does my stomach twist whenever he hums?"

He barely touched her as he passed, yet she could feel the heat of his body. He took a seat across from her, and she regained her full awareness once his warmth was no longer present. He spoke gently, "Please sit, Ms. Sharma. We have much to discuss." Taking a deep breath, she complied.

He initiated the conversation, "So, Ms. Sharma, the matter-" but she interrupted him, stating firmly, "We cannot marry," leaving him momentarily taken aback. He scratched his right brow, taking his time to process her declaration.

Initially, he had no intention of marrying, but now he found himself reconsidering, not out of genuine interest in her, but because he was aware that Mrs. Khurana would go to great lengths to ensure he married. Among the various women presented to him, she had captured his attention before they even decided to introduce her to him, and Mrs. Khurana was determined to marry her along with her son. However, that was fuck not going to happen.

He fucking loved to scratching what they desires.

Her gaze fell upon his hand, and she inquired, "Did I do this?" A mix of confusion and concern laced her voice. He narrowed his eyes at her, then followed her gaze to the back of his hand, where she had inadvertently left her mark.

With a gentle bend, hesitantly took his hand in hers, pulling it closer as she settled back into her seat. She examine the injury while he regarded her with a blank expression.

Memories of her past mistakes flooded her mind, particularly the moment she had tried to break free from his grasp. Overwhelmed with remorse, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," as she tenderly caressed his wounds.

He withdrew his hand softly, murmuring, "It's nothing, darling." After all, the pain from bullets and knives paled in comparison to the scratch of her nails.

He fixed his gaze on her and asked, "But why do you hesitate to marry me?"

She faltered, "Because you're-" and he interjected, "Not handsome, am I right?" Her mouth fell open in surprise, while a smirk danced on his lips at her reaction.

As he surveyed the restaurant, he teased, "This is the universal excuse every woman uses when she wants to decline marriage." He paused, his eyes wandering, then continued with a playful smile, "But I don't think so." Noticing his mischievous glances, she too began to look around, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes widened, exclaiming, "What the fuc...k!"

Every woman-and even some men-within the restaurant cast their longing gazes upon him, filled with

desire to want him,

lust to have him, and

a tinge of jealousy, for her.

she was the sole woman by his side. He cleared his throat, and she shut her eyes tightly, wondering how she had ended up in this situation.

She turned abruptly, a gasp escaping her lips, "ahhh." The intensity of his gaze, those green eyes reminiscent of a dense forest, had shifted to a darker hue, piercing through her with an unsettling heat that felt almost tangible, as if it could melt her very being. She pressed her left hand against her racing heart, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Once her heart calmed, she managed to utter, "Can't you see me like a human sees another human?"

He pondered her words before responding, "Don't I see you as humans see one another?" She shook her head, whispering, "No, they frighten me."

With an innocent curiosity, he inquired, "Do they?" She nodded, her head bobbing like that of a child.

He hummed thoughtfully and asked, "Hmm, tell me how I should look at you so that you won't be scared of them next time?"

Biting her lower lip in hesitation, she finally replied, "Okay," She was confused, unsure of exactly how she wanted him to look at her. She had agreed, but now wasn't sure what to tell him.

"Alright then, tell me," he urged, noticing the nervousness flickering in her eyes. He was genuinely curious about how she wished him to look her, wanting to ensure her comfort rather than fear. While he relished the power his gaze held over others, with her, he yearned for a different connection-one devoid of fear.

In her presence, he found himself captivated.

She began telling him, "First, you need to lower your eyebrows a bit." He complied, asking, "Is this enough?" She moistened her lips, hesitating before replying, "Just a touch more," gesturing delicately with her fingers, her eyes narrowing slightly at the suggestion of 'a touch.'

He adjusted once more, and she halted him at the ideal moment with a subtle thumb gesture, continuing, "Now, soften your gaze." He looked at her, confusion evident in his expression, murmuring, "Huh?" He struggled to understand what she was asking.

Once again, she licked her lips, and he couldn't help but notice the glistening sheen, a sight that made him swallow hard. He yearned to touch them, to press his lips against hers, to savor them with an ardor that felt almost reverent.

As he realized the direction of his thoughts, he cursed himself in a multitude of languages, frustrated by this unfamiliar desire that had awakened within him.

She pulled him from his reverie, asking, "You don't know how to soften your eyes?" He shook his head, "No."

Understanding dawned on her, and she guided him gently, "Widen your eyes in a relaxed manner, or think of someone dear to you, recalling their smiling face." She concluded with a warm smile.

For the first time, he had seen her smile, and it struck him as breathtaking. A wave of warmth coursed through him, and without realizing it, his gaze softened instinctively.

With delight, she exclaimed, "Yes, just like that! Look at me that way." He swallowed hard and nodded. She could feel the intensity of his gaze. She was curious about the emotions behind his softened eyes.

How he look at her which brought a delightful amusement to face? Had the fear truly dissipated? He must witness the intensity of his own eyes as they lingered on her and need to remember it for her. Could he maintain such a gaze consistently, even amidst his fury and passion? Yet, silence reigned in response.

Their thoughts intertwined, a silent exchange of unspoken feelings, until they were interrupted by the same woman from earlier, her eyes filled with desire. "Sir, what would you like to order?" she purred, her voice dripping with seduction, accompanied by another woman at her side.

Aayesha clenched her fist beneath the table, struggling to maintain her composure.However, he did not move his eyes from her for an instant. He noticed the shift in her expression and demeanor.

The woman tried to capture his attention, but her attempts were unsuccessful. His focus remained unwavering despite her efforts. Fury flushed her face as she directed it towards Aayesha. Once more, she attempted to speak, "Sir, what-" but was abruptly interrupted by his sharp retort, "I'm not deaf, Ms. I heard you the first time," his gaze darkened with an unsettling intensity. She swallowed hard and nodded in response.

He turned to aayesha, shifting his gaze and tone, "What would you like to eat, darling?" She lifted her head, her expression neutral, which surprised him. She flatly stated, "I don't want to eat anything." What had transpired within her?

He confirmed, "Are you sure?" Her irritation flared, and she snapped, "Did you not hear what I said?"

He did not pursue the matter further. He placed the order with the server, "One black coffee and one hot chocolate." then glanced at her, amending his request, "No, make that one cold chocolate." The two ladies departed shortly thereafter.

He returned to the previous topic, "So, Ms. Sharma, let's come back to our earlier discussion. You claimed I'm not good-looking, but you were proven wrong. Is there any other reason why you don't want to marry?" He awaited for her response.

After a long silence, she turned her gaze to him to the window before responding with a hint of sarcasm, "Yes, there are." She paused, then stated seriously, "I do not wish to live with your grand family after marriage." She was well aware that this declaration would likely lead him to cancel the marriage proposal.

He exhaled softly, a playful smirk gracing his lips as he reassured her, "You don't need to worry about it, darling. I live alone, and maybe I'm counted as part of my grand family, but they aren't my family."

He attempted to mask his feelings, his but she could perceive the solitude that lingered beneath the surface.

Internally, she felt a pang of sorrow, yet she managed to respond with a fake smile, "Oh, that's good then."

They ordered their drinks, and this time, a different woman came to serve them. She placed their beverages and left, saying, "Enjoy your drinks, sir and ma'am"

He savored a sip of his black coffee and playfully inquired, "So, are you prepared to marry me, now?"

But his words caused her cold chocolate shake to go down the wrong way, and she started coughing violently, tears welling in her eyes. She quickly covered her mouth with one hand while the other rubbed her chest. Concern washed over him as he instinctively moved to assist her, but she halted him with a gesture, signaling him to keep his distance with her.

He remained where he was, tried to soothe her with gentle words, "I won't come any closer. Just take a moment to calm down, alright?" She nodded in response. Unsure of how to help, he extended his coffee cup toward her, suggesting, "Perhaps this will help."

Her tear-filled eyes obscured his face, she accepted the cup and took a couple of sips. Gradually, her coughing subsided, and he settled back in relief as she regained her composure, filling her lungs with fresh air.

With utmost seriousness, she declared, "I'm still not ready to marry you," and her words rang true.

Irritated, he retorted, "There's no reason that should prevent us from marrying."

She countered firmly, "There is."

He pressed her, "And what might that be?"

After a moment of contemplation, she hesitated, knowing this was her final opportunity to withdraw from the impending marriage. "I cannot conceive. I won't be able to bear your child after we wed. I refuse to hear my husband lament marrying a woman who cannot provide him with an heir."

Her heart felt heavy, she felt the sting of her own words, yet his expression remained unchanged-neutral, devoid of shock, surprise, or sadness. Did her words not affect him? Why was he so unresponsive? She studied him closely then down her head.

To her, his face was a mask of indifference, but beneath the surface, her words stirred an unfamiliar emotion within him, tightening his chest. His fingers, which had been fidgeting beneath the table, stilled. He gazed at her blankly, his focus unwavering, as if time had frozen.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, "I won't."

two words

Just those two words.

Her stomach twisted in response, and she snapped her head up, their eyes locking. He continued, "I won't say, think, or regret marrying you. I have no intention of starting a family with anyone. You needn't worry; I'll divorce you if you want, and if you wish to remain in this marriage, you may. I will never force you beyond your limits."

A wave of guilt washed over her. She had no other justification, so she had lied in hopes of canceling the marriage, yet here he was. If he had no desire for a family, why was he entangling her in this? If he intended to divorce her, what was the purpose of their union?

So many thoughts.

So many questions.

Yet no answers.

She finally asked, "If you plan to divorce me after the marriage, then why marry me at all?"

He replied, "I won't divorce you as simply as you requested. I will do so with a solid reason, ensuring my family never attempts to arrange another marriage for me after you are gone." His tone was calm and measured. She nodded, understanding his perspective.

They finished their drinks in silence. He inquired once more if she wanted something to eat, but she merely gazed at him, rising to leave when he teasingly remarked, "Darling, if you wish, we could try to conceive a child together."

Her mouth fell open in shock at his audacity, and she shouted, "You..." but the words failed her. Turning on her heel, she stormed away, muttering curses under her breath, "Motherfucker, how dare he think of us together, asshole. Bastard."

He called after her, "I heard you and your charming words too." She did not turn back, but he smiled at her reaction. He paid the bill with a tip and followed her.

He stepped outside and spotted her near his car, which she had passed without looking. "Come with me; I'll give you a ride," he called out. She shouted back without pausing, "I don't accept help from strangers."

He retorted, "And this stranger is soon to be your husband." He could have pursued her further, but she simply hailed a cab and departed. With a resigned sigh, he settled into his car and instructed his driver to follow her, aware that the men pursuing her were back on her trail.

How did he know?

He had seen them when she entered his vehicle; perhaps he had chosen to overlook it, but the tattoo on her neck spoke volumes-it marked them as a member of a formidable Mafia gang, one that was not to be trifled with. They were no longer his enemies, but they had made a grave mistake in targeting her. They were unaware of the protection she had.

He trailed her, waiting until the lights in her room extinguished. Once they did, he made his way to his secret house, intent on dealing with anyone who dared to follow her or think of causing her harm. He instructed his men to capture them and ensure they were treated well while he departed from the restaurant.

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The clock has just passed 3 AM, yet her eyes remain closed in slumber, her mind momentarily free from thoughts of him.

Upon returning home, she made her way to the kitchen, where she prepared a plate of her mother's comforting food to soothe her empty stomach. Having not eaten since morning, the thought of a restaurant meal had crossed her mind, but circumstances had conspired against her appetite. She knew that indulging in food would cloud her judgment and hinder her ability to think clearly.

After leaving the kitchen, she sought out her mother, finding her peacefully asleep.

Entering her own room, she placed the plate on the coffee table and indulged in a long, rejuvenating shower, emerging forty-five minutes later. Following her nightly routine, she finally sat down to enjoy her dinner. Wrapping herself in a soft comforter, she attempted to drift off to sleep, but rest eluded her as she tossed and turned.

It's possible that he might not want to marry her after discovering her lie. However, his reaction and words suggest he could have been pretending during their meeting. Now, he's reflecting on her dishonesty and has decided to call off the wedding.

She finds herself once again lost in thoughts about him and the idea of marriage.

Finally, she sat up, exasperated, and struck the bed with her fists, blaming him for everything. "It's all his fault; everything that's happened is because of him. He barged into my life and turned it upside down. That bastard, Mr. Khurana-"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ringing of her phone, the screen illuminating with an unknown number. She hesitated, wondering who could be calling at such an hour. Should she answer? Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked up.

Before she could utter a greeting, his col

d-sinful voice on the other end declared, "I'm going to marry you, darling."

She taken aback, her eyes popped out, mouth fall open and her jaw drop in disbelief as she exclaimed, "What the-" but he had already hung up the call. She gaze at screen blankly.

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