Arranged marriage was an age-old story that Khushi, the youngest of the infamous Gupta family, who revolutionized and dominated the trading market for generations, knew well.
For it was the only thing she heard growing up.
But that neither prepared...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Khushi awoke to the sound of laughter echoing through the penthouse.
She squinted through heavy, closed eyes, trying to gauge what time it was. Her head was throbbing, a strange ache was gripping her body, and her feet were beyond repair, so big were the blisters forming on her heels.
But none of those things mattered.
No, what mattered were the soft slips that caressed her all night, the musical voice that called out her name over and over again, the strong arms that held her together as she had come undone.
Even asleep, Khushi knew she was blushing.
How could she not?
Arnav kissed her. Everywhere.
Arnav loved her. And it wasn't as a friend.
And the most important of it all, Arnav made love to her.
It felt strange even thinking those words, forget saying them out loud. Would anything ever be the same?
No, her mind answered content, for more reasons than one.
Khushi didn't think so either. And frankly, she was glad for it. Whoever said flirting was fun, had no freaking clue what they were talking about. Because clearly, it was what came after flirting that was a hundred, no, a thousand times more fun.
Khushi snuggled deeper into her pillows. Despite Dev and Bhagi's valorous attempt to intoxicate her –which she saw coming miles away in retrospect– she remembered everything. She remembered Arnav's fiery kisses on her lips, on her waist, on her breasts... She felt him in between her legs, pushing her closer and closer to the edge... God.
He was good.
And with the way he had teased her, she knew he knew he was good.
Another blush worked its way through her.
Outside the bedroom, she could vaguely make out Arnav's voice. He seemed to be on the phone, laughing about something.
She could listen to his laugh for eons without getting bored.
But somewhere, her rational side was beginning to rise. The one that prided herself on being Dr. Gupta, the same one she had vehemently shoved aside while Arnav worked his magic last night.
Judging by the bright lights filtering in through the open windows, it seemed to be late morning.
It was so unlike her to sleep in. She had tuned her body to wake up at sunrise, no matter how late she stayed up the night before. It was just good etiquette for the hospital, which sometimes gave her less than an hour's heads up to come in for an emergency shift.
But perhaps it was for the better. It was time she stopped escaping to the hospital. After twenty-six long years, Khushi finally belonged somewhere.
Sighing in content, Khushi gingerly opened her eyes, flinching at the sunlight. Her –no, their– bedroom was the same as it was yesterday. Rose petals, now starting to wither, strewn everywhere, candles almost burnt to crisp in every corner, their discarded clothes flung on the armchair.
