The ink was barely dry when Aarav snatched the paper off the desk.
“No second thoughts?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Meher stood, spine straight despite the storm inside her. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
He smirked. “Good. I hate messy emotions.”
She hated everything about him. His tone. His arrogance. The way he looked at her like she was a tool—not a person.
But the papers were signed. She was now, legally, Mrs. Meher Malhotra.
A wife to a man who didn’t believe in love. Or mercy.
“When do we start this... charade?” she asked, voice sharp.
“Now,” Aarav replied, checking his watch. “Our engagement press release goes out in an hour. You’ll move into my penthouse by tonight.”
Meher blinked. “Tonight? I need time—”
“You’ve had time,” he cut in. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Ms. Kapoor. The clock starts now.”
A tight knot twisted in her stomach. She was going to walk into a stranger’s home and pretend to be his fiancée. Smile for the cameras. Dance at functions. Sleep under the same roof.
But not in the same bed. Never that.
He walked over, extending a small, velvet box. She opened it to find a diamond ring so heavy it made her hand shake.
“Wear it. The world watches everything I do.”
Meher slipped the ring on, hating the way it sparkled.
“You really think you can buy everything, don’t you?”
Aarav leaned in, so close she could feel his breath.
“No. But I can own it. And now, that includes you.”
Her slap landed before she could stop it.
His jaw tightened. But he didn’t flinch.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Malhotra,” he said coolly. “You just made page one.”
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