Katha's POV

The woman in the mirror was a stranger.

I stood before the full-length glass, staring at the reflection. Gone was the girl in the faded kurti who scrubbed floors. Gone was the terrified bride who slept on a rug.

In her place stood a woman wrapped in beige armor.

The blazer dress Suhana had brought was exquisite. It hugged my frame with scandalous precision, cinching tight at my waist and flaring slightly at the hips. The double-breasted gold buttons gleamed under the chandelier light, and the daring slit on the left thigh teased just enough skin to be dangerous.

I took a deep breath, watching my chest rise and fall against the structured fabric.

I smiled. It wasn't a shy smile. It was a smile of realization.

If he bought a doll, I thought, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through me, then I will be the most expensive, untouchable doll in the collection.

I raised my hands, slowly tracing the silhouette of my own body. My palms slid over the curve of my waist, down to the flare of my hips. I felt soft. I felt feminine. For the first time in forever, I felt... powerful.

"You look beautiful, Katha," I whispered to my reflection, praising the woman I was becoming. "You can do this."

I grabbed my purse, lifted my chin, and walked out the door.

Location: Rathore Industries Lobby Time: 9:00 AM

The car ride was silent, but the air crackled with unspoken words. Dhruv kept glancing at my legs, then quickly looking away, his jaw working as if he were chewing on glass.

When the car stopped in front of the towering glass monolith of Rathore Industries, the driver opened the door.

I stepped out. My heels clicked sharply on the pavement.

Dhruv stepped out from the other side. He adjusted his suit, looking every inch the king of this concrete jungle. He looked at me, waiting for me to trail behind him like a shadow.

Not today.

I walked around the car and stopped right next to him.

Dhruv looked down, surprised by my proximity. "Katha?"

I didn't answer. I simply reached out and slipped my hand through the crook of his arm. I wrapped my fingers around his bicep, holding him firmly.

Dhruv stiffened. His muscles bunched under my touch. He looked at me with wide, questioning eyes.

"The world is watching, Sir," I whispered, flashing a dazzling, confident smile at the security guards.

Dhruv stared at me for a split second, searching my face. Then, a smirk tugged at his lips. He clamped his other hand over mine, locking me against his side.

"Let's go then, Mrs. Rathore."

We walked in.

The lobby stopped. Literally.

Receptionists stopped typing. Security guards straightened their spines. Junior executives froze mid-step.

As we walked toward the private elevators, people bowed their heads.

"Good morning, Sir. Good morning, Ma'am." "Good morning, Mrs. Rathore."

I nodded graciously to them, keeping my head high. I felt their eyes on me—on the dress, on my hand on his arm, on the way the Shark was letting me hold him.

I felt like a Queen walking through her court. And the King? He was my escort.

Location: The Private Elevator

The heavy steel doors of the CEO’s private elevator slid shut, sealing us in a box of silence and mirrors.

The moment the doors closed, Dhruv exhaled. He loosened his grip on my hand, preparing to step away, to put the distance back between us.

But I didn't let go.

Dhruv paused, looking down at my hand still clutching his arm. "Katha? The show is over. We are alone."

I looked up at him. The elevator was small. The air was thick with his scent—expensive musk and the faint, lingering smell of the soap he used. Being this close to him made my knees weak, but I forced myself to be bold.

Do your job, Katha, I told myself. He wants a contract wife? Give him the best one.

I turned my body toward him, effectively blocking him into the corner of the elevator.

"Is it?" I asked, my voice low and sultry. "You told me the contract is 24/7 outside the bedroom, Dhruv. This elevator... is not a bedroom."

Dhruv’s eyes darkened. He watched me with a mix of confusion and sudden, sharp interest. "What are you doing?"

I reached up. My hands were trembling slightly, but I willed them to be steady. I straightened the lapel of his blazer, smoothing the fabric over his broad chest. I could feel the heat radiating off him.

"I am doing my job," I whispered, stepping closer until the tips of my shoes brushed his. "I am reminding you that I am your wife. And everyone out there... they need to believe that we can't keep our hands off each other."

Dhruv stopped breathing. His gaze dropped to my lips, then down to the V-neck of the beige dress, then back to my eyes.

"You are playing a dangerous game," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave.

"I am just following the deal," I countered, looking up through my lashes.

I hated him. I hated that he had bought me. I hated that he was using me.

But standing here, trapped in this metal box with him, feeling his intense gaze devouring me... I didn't feel hate.

I felt a pull. A magnetic, terrifying pull.

I wanted him to touch me. I wanted those large hands that had held my waist this morning to grab me again.

Stop it, Katha, my mind screamed. He is the enemy.

But he smells so good, my heart whispered back.

Dhruv’s hand twitched at his side. He lifted it slowly. He didn't push me away. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone. The touch burned like fire.

"You look..." he started, his voice rough, "confident today."

"I have to be," I murmured, leaning into his touch involuntarily. "I am Mrs. Dhruv Rathore. I can't be weak."

The elevator pinged.

Ding.

The spell shattered.

Dhruv snatched his hand back. I stepped away, smoothing my dress, my heart pounding so hard I thought I might faint.

The doors slid open to the top floor.

Dhruv walked out first, clearing his throat loudly, adjusting his tie as if he was suffocating.

I followed him, a small, triumphant—and terrified—smile playing on my lips.

I had played the role perfectly. I had reminded him of the deal.

But as I watched his broad back moving down the corridor, I realized the terrifying truth.

I wasn't just acting anymore.

Location: Rathore Industries, CEO’s Floor

The elevator doors slid open, and the bubble of heat we had created popped instantly.

Dhruv stepped out first. The moment his Italian leather shoes hit the plush grey carpet of the executive floor, he changed. His shoulders squared. His jaw set. The flush on his neck from my boldness vanished, replaced by a mask of cold efficiency.

He was the Shark again. And I was just the accessory trailing in his wake.

I stepped out after him, my legs still trembling slightly from the adrenaline of what I had done. I touched him, I thought, my fingers flexing at my side. I touched him, and he didn't pull away.

But there was no time to dwell on the victory.

"Mr. Rathore."

A voice cut through the air—crisp, polished, and terrifyingly professional.

I looked up.

Standing behind a sleek, marble reception desk was a woman. She was... perfect. That was the only word for her. She wore a sharp charcoal pantsuit that fit her tall, willowy frame impeccably. Her hair was pulled back in a severe, glossy bun without a single strand out of place. Her makeup was subtle but flawless.

She was typing on a tablet, walking toward us without looking up, reciting a schedule as if she were a machine.

"The Tokyo investors are on line one. You have the merger meeting at 10:00 AM. And your coffee is on your desk—black, no sugar, exactly 85 degrees."

She stopped right in front of Dhruv, finally looking up. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and focused entirely on him.

"Good morning, Dhruv," she said. Not 'Sir'. Dhruv.

"Morning, Meera," Dhruv replied, his voice relaxed. Familiar.

My stomach twisted. A sharp, ugly pang of something hot coiled in my gut.

Meera. The Personal Assistant with the Wharton MBA. The one he said didn't need help.

She handed him the tablet, her fingers brushing his in a practiced, easy motion. They had a rhythm. A shorthand. They looked like two halves of a well-oiled machine.

I stood there in my beige dress, feeling suddenly like a clumsy child playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. I was the wife, yes. But she? She was the partner.

It was Meera who finally acknowledged my presence. Her gaze slid from Dhruv to me. It wasn't a warm look. It was a scan. She assessed my hair, my dress, my shoes, and finally, my face.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"And this must be..." Meera trailed off, her tone polite but laced with a subtle chill.

Dhruv didn't look at me. He was reading the tablet. "This is Katha. My wife."

"Ah. Yes. The sudden Mrs. Rathore," Meera said. A small, tight smile appeared on her lips. She extended a manicured hand. "I’m Meera. His Executive Assistant. I manage... everything. Including his life."

The subtext was loud and clear: I know him better than you. You are just a visitor here.

I looked at her hand. Then I looked at her face.

Fear bubbled up in my throat. She was intimidating. She was everything I wasn't.

But then, I remembered the elevator. I remembered the way Dhruv’s breath had hitched when I touched his lapel. I remembered the way he had looked at me in this dress.

I am the Queen, I reminded myself, forcing my spine to straighten. He put a ring on my finger. He put a necklace on my neck. She is just an employee.

I didn't shake her hand.

Instead, I stepped closer to Dhruv, sliding my hand back onto his arm, reclaiming my territory.

"Pleasure to meet you, Meera," I said, my voice steady, copying the tone Suhana used when she wanted to be dismissive. "Dhruv has told me so little about you."

Meera’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

Dhruv looked up from the tablet, sensing the sudden drop in temperature. He glanced between us—the cool, efficient assistant and the bold, possessive wife.

"Right," Dhruv cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. "Meera, set up a desk for Katha in my cabin. She will be... observing today."

Meera blinked. "In your cabin? But Sir, that’s highly irregular. You have sensitive calls. Wouldn't she be more comfortable in the waiting lounge? There are magazines."

Magazines. She wanted to park me like a child in a daycare.

"She stays with me," Dhruv said simply. He handed the tablet back to her. "And Meera?"

"Yes?"

"You can take the coffee away."

Meera froze. "I... pardon?"

"The coffee on my desk," Dhruv said, finally looking at me. His dark eyes held a flicker of amusement, and something else—a challenge. "Katha is making my coffee today."

My heart soared. I felt a ridiculous, giddy triumph wash over me.

Meera looked at me, shocked. "Her? But... does she know how you take it?"

"I know exactly how he likes it," I lied smoothly, meeting her gaze head-on. "I am his wife, after all."

Dhruv’s lips twitched. He turned and walked toward the massive double doors of his office. "Coming, Mrs. Rathore?"

I threw one last look at Meera. She was standing still, clutching the tablet, her perfect composure cracking just enough to reveal the jealousy underneath.

"After you, Sir," I whispered.

I followed him into the office, the heavy doors closing behind us, shutting Meera out.

Inside, the office was vast, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city of Mumbai. It smelled of him.

Dhruv walked to his massive mahogany desk and sat down in his leather chair. He looked powerful. He looked distant again.

But I wasn't afraid anymore.

I walked to the small kitchenette in the corner of the room. My hands were shaking as I reached for the coffee machine, but a smile played on my lips.

He chose me, I thought, my heart fluttering dangerously. Over her perfect coffee, over her perfect efficiency... he chose me.

I hated him. I reminded myself of that as I poured the water. I hated his contract. I hated his rules.

But as I glanced over my shoulder and saw him watching me—his intense gaze tracking my movements across the room—I realized the terrifying truth.

I wanted him to look at me like that forever.

Oh God, Katha, I whispered to the brewing coffee. You are falling. You are falling for the monster.

And this time, there was no Prince to catch me.