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The garage echoed with an unsettling silence, the kind that prickled at Aaravika's nerves. She stood amidst a fleet of luxurious cars, their polished bodies reflecting her every move. She was about to step into one when Mr. Dharam, Vayran's loyal bodyguard, appeared behind her.

His posture was rigid-hands clasped behind his back, head slightly bowed- as if his very existence demanded discipline. "Ma'am," he said in a tone that balanced deference with authority. "Boss has instructed that you don't go to college today."

Aaravika arched a brow, leaning casually against the car door. "And why would that be?" "There's an inauguration ceremony," he replied carefully, avoiding her gaze. "You are expected to accompany him. He wants you ready by 11."

Her lips curved into a smirk.

"And where is your oh-so-busy boss?"

"In his office," he replied, pausing before adding hesitantly, "Shall I call him?"

She waved him off, feigning nonchalance. "No need. He'll come here himself."

Her smirk widened, seeing the confusion flicker in Dharam's eyes before he masked it. As he turned to leave, she called after him, "By the way, Dharam, does Vayran have a favorite car or... a special spot in this penthouse?" His hesitation was palpable.

"He has a favorite car," he admitted, but his lips sealed tightly on the latter part. "Oh?" Aaravika feigned surprise.

"Which one?" With a reluctant glance, Dharam La Voiture Noire.

It stood like a predator amidst prey, exuding a kind of raw dominance that matched its owner. Aaravika's eyes gleamed mischievously. Poor car. It's about to meet its doom. Her gaze flitted briefly to the mini cameras scattered across the garage ceiling.

She knew he was watching. He always was. She vividly remembered the chill of his hand tightening around her neck the last time she'd crossed a line. The memory made her skin prickle, but she masked it with a mocking smile aimed straight at the camera before getting out of the garage.

She returned moments later, a hammer in hand. Her eyes locked onto the Bugatti with devilish intent.

The first swing was exhilarating, the sound of metal denting beneath her strike echoing like music. The second swing followed quickly.

Just as she raised the hammer for a third blow, a strong hand gripped her wrist mid-air. She didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Enjoying yourself, Aaravika?" His deep voice dripped with menace, yet there was an undertone of amusement that made her stomach twist. She turned to face him, her face alight with mock innocence.

"Oh, hi, patidev-oops, I mean contracted-so-called patidev." Vayran's jaw tightened, and he rolled his eyes before releasing her wrist.

She quickly spun back, hammer raised once more, but in a blur of motion, he scooped her up into his arms. "Put me down!" she snapped, struggling against him. "I swear, I'll hit you with this hammer!"

Her threats were met with a sharp, unexpected spank on her behind. The suddenness made her gasp, her struggles pausing in shock.

"How dare you?!" she hissed, raising the hammer again. Another spank landed, firmer this time. Her gasp turned into a strangled scream of indignation.

"Do that one more time, and I-"

"You'll what?" he interrupted with a smirk. "Scream again? Hit me? Go on, little bird. See what happens." Aaravika fell silent, gritting her teeth as he carried her through the penthouse. Every staff member they passed quickly averted their eyes, their faces betraying suppressed their scared look as they got back to their work.

Her embarrassment burned hotter than her fury. Once inside her room, he set her down. She spun to face him, eyes blazing with rage. "You are insufferable, Vayran Singh Chandravansh!"

"And you are predictable," he drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Throwing tantrums when things don't go your way."

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I am not going to that stupid inauguration. And I don't have any special occasion dress to wear too" His smirk deepened, and in a swift move, he closed the distance between them. One hand snaked around her waist, the other gripping the back of her neck as he pulled her flush against him.

"Ek baar keh kar toh dekho, he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "tumhare samne pura ka pura brand rakh dunga." (At least you should have asked, I would have kept the whole brand in front of you)

Her lips curled into a sarcastic smile "Show off your 'I'm-the-rich-guy' act to someone who cares about money, Mr. Burj Khalifa."

His laugh was dark, sending an unbidden shiver down her spine. "If that's the case, why the excuses for not going?"

"I'd rather go alone," she shot back. "Your presence ruins everything." He chuckled again, the sound unnervingly intimate.

"Too bad, Mrs. Chandravansh. Contract or not, you're my wife. And as my wife, you'll do as I say." He released her abruptly, leaving her breathless and fuming.

"Now, be a good girl and get ready. We're leaving in an hour." Before she could muster a retort, he disappeared into his room. Aaravika stood there, her chest heaving, his words echoing in her mind. Mrs. Chandravansh. The title felt like a chain around her neck, but she wasn't one to be tamed.

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