Ryan
I finally kissed her.
I fucking kissed her.
And now, as I sit in the backseat of my car, the taste of her still lingers on my lips like a burn I don't want to soothe. She tastes like rebellion - hot, defiant, dangerous - just like her nature. No gloss, no sweetness. Just raw fire and something deeper beneath it. A dare.
Then came the slap.
Right on my handsome face - her words, not mine, though I don't disagree. Her palm had landed like thunder across my cheek, sharp and satisfying. And yet, all I could think was:
What would she do if I went further?
What would she break first - my nose or her rules?
Because one day, I'll take her however I please. One day, she'll beg me not to stop. And she'll go along the way.
I lean back, letting the cool leather of the seat cradle me, the city's blur passing in streaks outside the window. The air in the car is silent, but my thoughts are screaming. She slapped me. She fucking kissed me back. Then slapped me. If that doesn't sum up Anvitha, I don't know what does.
We're oil and fire. Chaos and restraint. And I'm beginning to love the burn.
The car slows as the massive black iron gate of our estate swings open. My sanctuary. My battlefield. My sweet, pretty, small-not small-big mansion.
My mother would slap me for calling it small.
The driveway curves elegantly through a wide garden. The fountain in the center still glows under golden lighting, its water glimmering like crystal. A white swing sways slightly in the breeze - my sister's favorite spot. She claims it's for thinking. I think she just likes pushing herself until she's dizzy.
The car rolls to a stop at the grand front steps. I step out and look up at the three-story masterpiece in front of me. White. My mother's choice. Always white - pure, graceful, pristine. The irony of building a kingdom of power and control on a color symbolizing innocence doesn't escape me.
As I step inside, the scent of jasmine and fresh room spray greets me, clinging to the polished air. My police boots echo against the white marble floor - again, Mumma's choice. Everything in here has her signature. Golden moldings, elegant chandeliers, red Persian carpets that snake across the hallways.
It feels like a kingdom built from her heart.
And the heart? Always in the kitchen.
I don't even hesitate. I know where to find her.
As I step into the wide open kitchen, there she is - behind the island, stirring something with the kind of devotion that makes Michelin chefs look lazy.
"Mom," I call, casually leaning on the counter.
She looks up and her entire face lights up like the sun has decided to rise just for her. That's what I love about her. It's not just that she smiles - it's that when she sees her children, she glows.
"Ryan! You came early today!" Her voice is warm, musical.
"Are you not supposed to be happy about that?" I tease as I step around and hug her. She wraps her arms around me with that familiar softness that never changes, no matter how many years pass or how many battles I fight.
"I am happy, very happy. " she whispers into my shoulder.
She pulls back and gives me that motherly once-over. "How was your day?"
At that, my brain flickers back - to Anvitha's lips, to her defiance, her hands in my hair, the slap that followed. My mouth twitches before I can stop it.
"Better than expected."
Her eyes narrow slightly. She knows that smirk. But she says nothing.
"Go freshen up. I'll be back with your favorites. Look, I made everything you like!"
"You could've let the cook handle it."
"No one can give it the taste a mother can," she says firmly.
"Yeah... that's true." I smile.
I leave her in her kitchen kingdom and walk through the mansion's long corridor until I reach Dad's study. The heavy wooden door is already open.
He's sitting behind the desk, flipping through files like he's solving world hunger. The man's an empire disguised in human form.
"Ryan. Good timing," he says without looking up. "I was about to go over the board meeting notes."
I slide into the seat across from him. "Already saw the report. Deal's delayed again. Supply chain excuse."
He grunts. "That's bullshit. They're stalling."
I nod. "Want me to push them harder?"
He lifts his head now. "No. Let's see what their desperation looks like. Desperate men make better deals."
We spend the next thirty minutes dissecting revenue, logistics, names I don't care for, and codes I've memorized in blood. The empire doesn't sleep, but it has a heartbeat - and today, that heartbeat is steady.
By the time I return to the dining room, I hear the light footsteps before I see her.
"Ryan!" my younger sister sings, skipping in. "Did you get your ego bruised today, officer?"
"Not as much as your fashion choices did, clearly," I retort, nodding at her neon socks and glitter tee.
"Ugh, you're just jealous of my glow."
Mom chuckles as she places the dishes on the table. Dad walks in and joins us silently, his face softening at the sight of his wife and children already bickering.
"Where's big brother?" I ask, looking around.
"Still in Dubai. Said the meeting's running late," Dad answers, already reaching for the naan.
Dinner feels... good. Familiar.
My sister mocks my taste in women. I throw back a comment about her three-day obsession with astrology. My mother sighs, tells us both to behave, and Dad just sips his soup like it's all perfectly normal.
But as we laugh and eat...
I still taste her on my tongue.
Anvitha.
Rebellious. Beautiful. Untouchable.
And all mine - whether she accepts it now or later.
---------
The laughter faded slowly, like a radio dial being turned down.
Dinner had ended with my mother forcing extra gulab jamun onto everyone's plates, my father lecturing us about shareholder loyalty, and my sister pretending to fall asleep so she wouldn't help with the dishes. Classic.
Now, the mansion is quiet again - the kind of quiet that lets your demons out of their cages.
And mine?
Mine never really go away.
I walk through the corridor alone, my boots echoing against the marble, past expensive portraits and imported chandeliers, all symbols of the legacy we built on foundations no one dared to ask about. No one questions power when you make it look like tradition.
I enter my room and lock the door behind me.
It's not messy. It's not clean either. Everything is where I left it: structured chaos. The curtains are drawn halfway, letting in only slices of moonlight that fall across my bed and desk. I throw off my jacket, unbutton the first few buttons of my shirt, and pour myself a glass of whisky.
Neat. No ice.
I sit on the edge of the bed, fingers toying with the glass, my thoughts circling back to the only chaos that makes my heart beat faster than a boardroom deal - Anvitha.
That slap.
That mouth.
That kiss that still tingles like an electric wire pressed to my skin.
She's unpredictable, untrained, and untamed. A wild animal in a world that demands obedience.
And I want her.
Not just her body - though, fuck, that too - but her defiance. Her fire. Her soul.
I want her under me and beside me. I want her voice soft only when I allow it, and her eyes full of fire even when she's begging. I want her loyalty, her resistance, her everything. And if she won't give it freely... then I'll take it.
No one says no to me.
Not in business.
Not in blood.
And not in my bed.
I sip the drink slowly, the amber liquid burning down my throat, fueling my thoughts.
She's a distraction, yes. But one I can't afford to lose to someone else. Not when I'm this close.
To taking full control of my father's business.
To becoming more than just the heir - but the force behind the empire.
My father still holds the leash, but he's loosening it. That's why I've been playing both sides - boardroom and battleground. Because the future isn't handed over. It's taken. And when the time comes, I'll be ready.
But Anvitha?
She's a variable I didn't calculate.
She's not part of the plan.
Yet somehow... she's becoming the centerpiece of it.
How do you tame someone who bites?
Simple.
You bite back harder.
Just as I lean back on the headboard, the door creaks open slightly with a soft knock - no knock, really, just a warning nudge.
"Ryan?"
That voice. My sister.
I groan and down the rest of my drink. "You ever heard of knocking before entering?"
She walks in, clutching a mug of hot chocolate, barefoot and grinning like a gremlin.
"I did knock. You're just going deaf from all the screaming women in your head."
"Cute. You're not funny, though."
She plops onto my armchair and pulls a blanket around her like she owns the place. "Mom says don't sleep too late. You have a board call at 9 a.m."
"I'm aware. You're not my secretary."
"No. I'm your sister. Much worse."
I narrow my eyes at her. "You bored or just in the mood to annoy me?"
She shrugs. "Both. But mostly -" she pauses, then raises an eyebrow, "- I wanted to know who made you smile like a lunatic at dinner."
My smirk fades slightly.
She notices.
"Was it that girl from the gala?" she presses. "What's her name... Anushka? No, An... Anvitha?"
I don't answer.
"Bingo." She grins.
"You don't need to know everything."
"Which means I already know enough," she says, sipping her hot chocolate.
I shake my head and look away, but she doesn't stop watching me.
"You know, you get this look when something really matters to you. It's not love. You don't do love. It's... territorial."
"Stay out of it," I say flatly.
"Just don't destroy something just because you can't control it," she says softly, more serious now.
I snap my gaze to her, eyes sharp. "You think I can't?"
"I think... maybe you shouldn't."
We stare at each other for a beat too long.
She's the only person who can talk to me like that and still walk out with her limbs intact.
"Go to bed," I mutter, rubbing my temple.
She stands, makes a dramatic bow, and whispers at the door, "Just don't make her hate you before she learns why she should love you."
She already hate me . I didn't say it, She doesn't need to know it.
My sister bad this bad habit which called middling into someone Buisness and she need to change her.
Because knowing about what's happening into someone's life and what they do give her more dopamine than any source of entertainment can.
She's a stalker. She stalk every single person she can but on social media.
Pretty sure her hot topic for now is ANVITHA RAMASWAMY .
But the think is she couldn't find what she is looking know because Anvitha don't do social media.
Then she's gone.
And I'm left alone again - with the drink, the silence, and her name still ringing in my head.
Anvitha.
I'll figure her out.
Even if it takes breaking her down to the bones and building her up again - with my name. My mark. My world.
She doesn't know it yet...
But I'm the fire she'll never walk away from.
ļæ¼
Thank you so much for reading the chapter.
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_kelly_
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