Rakshit Fucking Volkov.

"Move aside, Mr. Volkov," I muttered through clenched teeth, holding back the urge to punch him in his annoyingly calm face. I was here to attend this party for my father, not to deal with the last person I wanted to see. But there he was, standing in front of my car, acting like he had the right to tell me what to do.

He didn't budge, his eyes cold and determined, as he more or less ordered me to let him take me home. Honestly, the thought of being taken by him right here, in the car, was a more appealing option than setting foot inside that cursed house again but unfortunately, I have my daughter there and I can't mess with her safety.

"Eager much, Mrs. Soon-to-be Volkov?" The damn grin on his face annoyed me to the point where I couldn’t hold back any longer and yelled,

"Fuck you, Volkov!"

"Gladly, just give me a chance." My irritation reached its peak, and I hit the button of humiliation because I knew he wouldn’t let me go without an argument.

"Aren’t you divorced, baby boy?" I said stressing over the word baby boy to trigger him, I kept my hands on my car's driver's side window, beside his huge body. My eye

"I am old enough to be your child's dad and your dadd-" I cut him off even before he could complete that sentence. Putting a filter in his mouth seems like a crime, lemme just kiss him.

Without thinking twice, I held his color and made him bend to my level before slamming my lips on his. The next moment, I was slammed on the car and he was devouring my lips, making me hiss out of pain and pat his chest due to loss of breath.

He looked at me after releasing me from that wild kiss, wait–did we just kiss? A kiss? Like a damm lip kiss? A kiss with the person I don't like yet like at the same time? My heart leaped with excitement, but I maintained my composure and looked him straight in the eyes before asking,

"What about your wife?"

He placed his left hand beside my shoulder and leaned in closer, making me bite my lip. As he drew nearer, I could feel his breath on my earlobe.

"She’s right here, standing in front of me,' he whispered, his voice barely audible. I could still feel the lingering sensation on my lips, craving more, but at this moment, all I knew was that I was being irrational.

"So eager to make me yours?" I asked. I liked him, but that was all it was—no more, no less. I didn’t want him as someone I could call mine. I don’t want or need anyone to carry the label of 'mine.' The air I breathe to survive isn’t mine, so how could I expect someone to be?

"Shaadi karengi?" I looked at him with wide eyes, is he some psycho lover of mine?

"Aapse?" I asked.

"Ji, humse, shaadi karengi humse?"

"Nahi karni hume aapse shaadi, ek baar bola tha na?" I said, being irritated with this shit, I don't want a husband at the first place. Not to lie that I don't like him but it's just a like, I don't want to get married to him.

"Humne bhi to ek baar bola tha," He whispered, his voice a bit soft. No doubt, both of us are bipolar and we need therapy.

I might say yes for this marriage and trying falling in love after it but,

I'm not the easiest girl to love.

I have this bad habit of overthinking. I tend to overreact and get a little insecure every once in a while. I can be needy for your attention. I want to literally take up all of your time, and I require a lot of reassurance. Trusting you fully isn’t something I’m capable of. I don’t always know when to stop fighting with you, even when I’m wrong.

Sometimes, I’ll push you away if I feel like you’re getting too close to hurting me. Loving me will stress you out, make you angry, and at times, break your heart. Loving me will test you, challenge you, and change you. It might get so demanding that you’ll be tempted to walk away. It might get so hard that you’ll think about giving up, and it might get so complicated that you won’t want to deal with me anymore.

But if you’re strong enough to handle that, if you’re patient enough to understand why I am who I am today, then you’ll get to see me at my worst and most vulnerable. And if I fall in love with you, I promise you’ll be loved with such passion and intensity that you’ll forget what life felt like before I came along. Because no matter how many times I break your heart, I’ll always be there to help you put it back together. I might not be the best at being loved, but I’m pretty amazing at loving.

"You won't let me go alone, will you?" I asked, snapping out of my thoughts. But why the hell am I even agreeing to marry him in the first place? I looked at him, and he was staring back at me, as if he could read me—my facial expressions, my eyes.

"Absolutely no," He replied, with a small smile and a cheeky grin. Is he the same person people described in those articles?

"Alright, drop me home then!"

We sat inside my car, he was driving it and I was the passenger princess, just kidding, I am tried that's why I allowed him to drive.

I looked out of the window, the air hitting my face as I went back to Vivaan's thought, if I ever meet him again, I would like to tell him that,

That Look

There was that look. That look that captivated me, that look that made me think I captivated you; but looks can lie and be deceiving. You lied and deceived me, and the worst part of it all is that you had no idea you even did it. Our talks, our touches, our looks, they were all romanticized in my head to deceive myself into believing you could ever like me.

So maybe you were never the one deceiving and lying; maybe it was me all along. Me getting caught up in the idea of us when you never had a thought of it. I should have listened when they told me that you were friendly like that with everyone. But I was special. I thought I was special to you.

Even though you had others, I was the one that you looked at that way. But I was wrong. I was one of the many other girls who you gave that look to. Anything we had laughed about, talked about, or whispered about, you had already done three other times with three other girls. But it was that look. A look I am familiar with. A look that shares a mutual feeling between two people. In my case...

"You look breathtaking," I turned my head toward the source of the voice to look at him. He was driving with a single hand. Alright, I get it—you are hot, Volkov—but this is wrong. Driving me insane for you while you are driving is wrong.

"Than—" before I could complete it, he cut me off, saying, "I want to kiss you."

"Wha—" I tried to question him, but he remained persistent and cut me off again, saying,

"You heard me, Princess." Yeah, I heard you, but you can't just go around kissing me whenever and wherever you want.

"I don't want to," I blurted out, fluttering my lashes like an innocent kid denying to do her homework.

"You ain't wearing these revealing clothes in front of anyone, other than me," He said and I looked at him as if he had grown two horns. What does he mean by revealing? I am wearing a black bodycon dress, which is just was slipping out of my breasts.

I adjusted my dress and ignored him, just as I do with people who ignore me—by doing the exact opposite and responding instantly.

"Are you my dad, dude?" I liked it, the tone of his voice, the over posissvenes which was dripping out from his mouth made me go crazy just at thought of him dominating me, I might appear as a bold woman but when it comes to sex in relationship, my partner is in charge.

"You like it when I behave like those toxic guys out there, don't you?" He asked, side eyeing me, it wasn't a lie though, I liked it but only when it's you, if some other guy did it, told me not to dress up in a too much revealing dress, I would do the exact opposite, might show up in nothing but that guy won't be mine anymore, so I can't do that. Anyways he would be located in a hospital if he tried dominating me. I ain't a body builder or something, but as my mother used to say, 'your hands are made up of iron'.

"I like being dominated," I blutered, feeling his intense gaze on me and his twitching upwards in a smirk.

"Will you let me toy you, tie you to the bed and fuck you like my slut?" My eyes widening in shock. My voice died down in my throat as I couldn't form words anymore.

"Answer me, Miss Roy," His voice dark and husky, sending shivers down my spine, my arms had goosebumps all over and I was no longer, looking at him, I was looking down on my lap, fidgeting with my fingers. I nod my head, not being able to form any response. Deep down, I liked, I liked it how he was dominating me but getting married to him was a no, a big no. His first wife is still missing, no one knows if she died or is still alive, no divorce nothing. How am I supposed to get married to him?

"I was just kidding. You can wear whatever you want and do whatever you want with me; I won't oppose." I simply nodded at him, biting my lips and rubbing my hands. I placed them on my cheeks to soothe the coldness and perhaps even the redness.

The car came to a halt, and I glanced at his side of the window. We were in front of Roy Mansion, a place I despised but had to pretend to like for a few reasons.

"You can go now; I'll park the car," I said, extending my hand, asking for the keys. He gave me a curt nod and stepped out of the driver's seat. I moved from the passenger seat to the driver's seat and glanced at him as he was calling someone.

I parked the car and went inside, only to be greeted by my raging father. "Where were you?" he asked. Does he not remember that he was the one who pressured me to go there?

"Obviously, at the party you sent me to!" I replied, not wanting any unnecessary drama in front of a child. Aria was right there, playing with her nanny on the sofa.

"Why was Rakshit Volkov with you? Why did he drop you home?" And there he goes with his interrogation.

"That's none of your business, Mr. Roy, stay the fuck away from my life!" I tell him, and move towards Aria, taking her in my arms, I walk towards our room but my steps halt as soon as I hear him say,

"You are just like your mother, A slut, who opens her legs infront of any man,"

No. I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

I am not like my mother.

Chanting it in my head, I move towards my room ignoring that old hag, because he has no work to do, all he does is taunt me for my existence.