Abhimanyu walked behind Misha as she chatted with Isha and Arthi. She turned suddenly, only to collide straight into his chest. His arm instinctively wrapped around her back, pulling her close before she could fall. Misha felt a shiver run down her spine as her eyes met his, locking for a brief moment. His lips curved into a smug smirk as he helped her stand upright, but before he could speak, Misha quickly moved away, her face flushed. He followed her, noticing her flustered state.
Misha stood by the counter, breathing heavily. The warmth of his touch still lingered on her back, and she gripped the edge tightly to steady herself.
"Want a drink?" Abhimanyu asked with a smirk, leaning casually against the counter beside her.
Misha's expression darkened. "No, thanks," she replied tersely.
"Donât get mad, it's just a soft drink." He raised his eyebrows, amused by her reaction, but Misha sighed, her irritation evident, and walked away.
Not one to give up easily, Abhimanyu followed her. He was certain something was off-she was avoiding him, and that didnât sit well with him. He needed an explanation, and as a businessman, he wasnât used to being ignored.
His patience thinning, Abhimanyu caught up to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. His anger simmered beneath the surface, his jaw tight. Misha, startled, met his intense gaze with a fierce glare.
"Whatâs your problem?" she snapped, yanking her arm, but his grip tightened.
"Why arenât you talking to me?" Abhimanyu demanded, his voice cold and controlled, though his irritation was clear.
Misha frowned, her expression hardening. "When did I say I wasnât talking to you? Did I tell you that?" she challenged, her glare intensifying.
"Do you think Iâm too stupid to notice that youâre avoiding me?" he ground out through clenched teeth, his anger rising. His grip on her wrist tightened as he spoke, his frustration spilling over.
"And so what if I am? Itâs my choice who I speak to. You donât get to decide that for me," Misha retorted, her irritation matching his, her fearlessness evident.
Abhimanyuâs anger flared. He stepped closer, towering over her, but with a quick glance around at their surroundings, he sighed, reigning in his temper. He pulled her with him, gripping her wrist tightly as they made their way to a secluded balcony, away from prying eyes. Once they reached the isolated spot, he turned to face her.
"Once again, why are you not talking to me? Give me a reason," he demanded, his voice low, the threat of his anger palpable. "Then you can continue this childish act."
Misha crossed her arms, her eyes cold. "I donât owe you anything, Abhimanyu. I donât need to give you a reason for anything," she shot back, her frustration reaching its peak. She was tired of him acting like her feelings didnât matter, like she was nothing to him.
Abhimanyuâs patience snapped. He slammed her against the wall, pinning her between his arms. Misha gasped in shock, but quickly composed herself, though her heart raced from the proximity.
"I am your husband, damn it!" Abhimanyu growled, his voice dangerously low, his teeth clenched in frustration.
"And since when has that mattered?" Misha shot back, trying to control her emotions, though she couldnât ignore the heat from his body so close to hers. His presence overwhelmed her, but she wouldnât show weakness.
"Misha Abhimanyu Rathore-you carry my name. Donât make me angrier than I already am," Abhimanyu warned, his tone calming but still laced with danger. He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her closer once more. The touch of his hand against her bare skin sent a shiver through her, but she remained silent, standing rigid, unwilling to give in to the effect he had on her.
He waited, staring at her expectantly, but when she didnât respond, he sighed, his thumb absentmindedly grazing her back.
"Mrs. Abhimanyu Rathore," he murmured in a husky tone, his intense gaze never leaving hers.
"If you donât want to talk, fine. But donât ever wear a backless dress again." His voice was low, intimate, as if the words were meant for her alone.
Mishaâs frown deepened. "You donât control me," she bit out.
"Donât think too much," he whispered, leaning closer to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Just do as I say."
Straightening up, Abhimanyu adjusted his coat with a sigh, his eyes never leaving her. "And as for you not talking to me, donât worry. I know how to make you talk," he added, a cold edge to his tone, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth before he turned and walked away.
Misha stood there frozen, her mind racing, her body still tingling from his closeness. She was both blushing and furious-irritated at herself for the effect he had on her, and even more irritated at him for knowing it.
Tara stood alone at the party, her arms crossed and an unmistakable look of boredom on her face. She hated these types of gatherings, where everyone played at being polite while concealing their true intentions. As she scanned the room, she felt the distinct sensation of someoneâs eyes on her. Before she could locate the source, a familiar figure approached with a smirk that sent a chill down her spine.
"Tara Roy," the woman greeted with a smile that Tara immediately knew was insincere. âPleasure to meet you.â
"Krisha Khatri," Tara replied with her own forced smile, knowing this interaction was about to turn into a verbal sparring match. "The pleasureâs all mine."
Krisha chuckled, her smirk widening. "How are you, Tara? And howâs your company holding up?"
Tara knew where this was headed. She could already feel the bitterness dripping from Krishaâs words.
"Weâre doing fine, thanks for asking," Tara responded, her tone deliberately dull.
"Are you sure?" Krisha continued, her voice taking on a mocking lilt. "I mean, your company might be fine now, but itâs only a matter of time before it crumbles under your... leadership. The Roy name will soon disappear from any relevant business lists, donât you think?"
Tara clenched her fists, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She could feel the insult brewing, ready to explode from Krishaâs mouth.
"And donât get mad, Tara," Krisha added with a malicious grin. "Everyone knows how careless you are. If the company stays in your hands, itâll be nothing but ashes soon."
Tara shot her a cold glare. "Krisha, I donât need your advice on how to handle my company. Iâll manage it and take it to the top."
Krisha laughed-a sharp, mocking sound. "Oh, Tara, donât delude yourself. What about that important project this morning? Did you win that? Oh, wait... of course you didnât. That must sting, doesnât it?"
The memory of Aavyan winning the project stung more than Tara cared to admit. Her fist tightened at the thought.
Krisha leaned in, her voice dripping with venom.
"Tell me, have you ever actually worked on a project yourself? Filed a deal? Or do you just leave everything to your employees while you sit back and pretend to know what you're doing?"
Tara stayed silent, her jaw clenched in frustration.
"Youâre not even qualified to be a CEO," Krisha continued, her voice oozing hatred. "I canât believe the board gave you the position. They must have wanted the company to fail."
Tara ground her teeth, trying to maintain her composure. She wanted to fire back, but Krishaâs words hit too close to home. Tara knew sheâd been relying too much on others, avoiding the responsibilities she should have embraced.
"If you want to keep your fatherâs company, at least act like you know what youâre doing," Krisha sneered. "Look at me-Iâve taken over my fatherâs business and made it thrive."
Taraâs anger was reaching a boiling point when a cold voice interrupted them.
"Miss Krisha Khatri."
Both women turned to see Aavyan standing there, his expression unreadable. Krishaâs face immediately lit up, while Taraâs irritation only grew.
"Mr. Aavyan Rathore, how wonderful to see you," Krisha purred, her tone suddenly sweet as honey. The venomous snake had turned into a gentle bird in an instant. She moved forward and hugged him, while Tara sighed and looked away, disgusted by the shift in Krishaâs demeanor.
"Iâm fine. How are you?" Aavyan replied, his voice cold, though his eyes flickered toward Tara for a brief moment.
"As always, Iâm doing great!" Krisha teased, her smile wide, but Tara could only roll her eyes at the act.
"Mr. Rathore-"Krisha began again, but Aavyan cut her off smoothly.
"Just call me Aavyan," he said, grinning as he glanced away from Tara to focus on Krisha.
Krisha smiled wider, relishing the attention.
"You landed that project this morning, right?" she asked, sending Tara a mocking glance as she spoke.
Aavyan nodded, his charming smile in place. Tara glanced at him, briefly captivated by the smile before pushing the thought aside.
"Congratulations, then! Too bad for your opponents," Krisha said with a triumphant smirk.
Aavyan chuckled softly before turning back to Krisha. "Miss Krisha Khatri, care to join me for a dance?" Aavyan said with a wink and smile
Taraâs heart sank as she watched Krisha blush and take his hand. It was as though she wasnât even there, as if sheâd vanished into thin air.
Krisha giggled, "For you, Aavyan, Iâm more than willing."
Taraâs eyes narrowed as they walked toward the dance floor, hand in hand. She tried to look away, but the sight of Aavyan laughing and dancing with Krisha made something inside her snap. Frustration, anger, and-was it jealousy? She didnât even know why, but watching them together infuriated her. It felt wrong, like Aavyan shouldnât be holding Krisha that way, shouldnât be smiling at her.
With a sigh, Tara turned and walked toward the other guests, trying to escape the scene playing out on the dance floor. As Aavyan and Krisha laughed and twirled around, she bit her lip in frustration.
When the dance ended, Aavyan quickly excused himself and walked away from Krisha, but his eyes never left Tara. He had seen everything-the way Krisha had mocked her, the anger and hurt that flickered across Taraâs face. He had stepped in between them, not because he cared for Krishaâs company, but because he couldnât stand to see Tara so defeated.
He had danced with Krisha to distract her, to pull her focus away from Taraâs vulnerability. But as much as he had tried to pretend otherwise, his eyes were always on Tara, watching her every move. He couldnât explain why, but something about her had drawn him in.
As Aavyan rejoined his brothers, involving himself in their business talk, he couldn't help but glance back at Tara one last time.
Hrudhay and Raghav were engrossed in a conversation about business when Hrudhayâs eyes drifted to a young man standing alone in the crowd. His brow furrowed slightly, curiosity overtaking his focus. Noticing this, Raghav followed his gaze, raised an eyebrow in recognition, but quickly resumed their talk.
"Howâs everyone at home, Raghav?" Hrudhay asked, though his attention was still split between their conversation and the unfamiliar figure across the room.
"Everyoneâs doing great," Raghav answered with a smile, though he could sense Hrudhayâs distraction. They continued discussing their families, but Hrudhayâs eyes kept returning to the same person. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to Raghav.
"Raghav, who is that boy over there?" Hrudhay asked, his frown deepening as he gestured toward the young man.
Raghav glanced over, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"Oh, him? Thatâs Adithya Agnihotri, the only heir of the Agnihotri family," he said with a slight nod.
Hrudhay raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Iâve never seen him around before."
"Thatâs because heâs been abroad for most of his life," Raghav explained casually. "At least, thatâs what everyone says. Heâs just returned."
Hrudhayâs curiosity grew. "And now?"
Raghav leaned in slightly, his tone more serious. "Adithya is the new CEO of Agnihotri Enterprises. His uncle was running the company after his parents passed away years ago. But now, Adithyaâs back to take over. He officially assumed the role a few days ago."
Hrudhay nodded slowly, processing the information as his gaze flickered back to Adithya. His expression was thoughtful, almost calculating, as he considered the young manâs sudden return. Raghav, noticing the shift in his friendâs demeanor, smiled knowingly.
"Whatâs running through that head of yours, Hrudhay?" Raghav asked with a teasing tone, though his eyes were warm with understanding.
Hrudhay chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing serious. Just curious about him," he replied, though the subtle tension in his voice hinted at deeper thoughts.
"Letâs go meet some of the guests," Hrudhay suggested, flashing a faint smile to brush off the conversation.
Raghav smiled back, sensing that Hrudhay wasnât quite ready to share what he was really thinking. Together, they made their way toward the other guests, though both couldnât help but glance once more at Adithya, whose presence seemed to stir something unspoken between them.
Throughout the entire party, Arnav stayed close to Arthi, never leaving her side. Wherever she went, he followed, drawing curious and shocked glances from the other guests. Yet, he didnât care. Something within him had shifted, though he couldnât quite understand what. All he knew was that he needed to be near her, no matter what anyone else thought.
Then his phone buzzed, breaking the moment. His expression darkened as he listened to the voice on the other end-it was one of his guards, informing him they had caught the person responsible for planting the camera in Mishaâs handbag. A surge of anger swept through him, and his hand instinctively clenched into a fist, his knuckles whitening with the force of his rage.
Without missing a beat, he turned to Aavyan, his voice cold but controlled. "Take Arthi home. Make sure sheâs safe," he instructed, his gaze hard and unyielding.
With that, Arnav strode out of the party hall, his presence commanding attention. Each step he took seemed to carry power and authority, the kind that made people nervous and avert their eyes. His guards were already waiting for him outside, his car parked and ready. As he approached, one of the guards quickly opened the door for him.
Arnav slid into the car, his jaw set in grim determination. The door closed with a solid thud, and the car pulled away from the venue. The air around him crackled with the intensity of his simmering anger, his mind focused on dealing with the person responsible, knowing this was far from over.
The Rathore part aesthetics
Misha Abhimanyu Rathore
Arthi Arnav Rathore
Tara Roy
Isha Rathore
Ishani Rathore
The Rathore
The Whole Party of The Rathore