"You don't want to see what happens when I stop being good," he growled, his voice vibrating against my lips.

It was a threat. A clear, terrifying threat designed to make me shrink, apologize, and scurry back to my corner.

But something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the secret meeting with Meera. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion of being pushed around. Or maybe, just maybe, I was tired of him having all the fun.

He thinks he can scare me? I thought, my heart beating so fast I was surprised he couldn't see it thumping through my dress. Okay, Mr. Rathore. Let's see who scares who.

I didn't shrink. I didn't look down.

Instead, I looked straight into those furious, dark eyes, and I smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile you give right before you light a match.

"Is that so?" I whispered.

I moved my hands. Instead of pushing against his chest to get away, I slid them up. I let my palms glide over the expensive fabric of his lapels, feeling the hard muscle underneath, until my fingers locked behind his neck.

Dhruv froze. His eyes widened slightly, the predator suddenly unsure of his prey.

I pulled him down. Hard.

Our bodies collided with a soft thud. I pressed my chest against his, eliminating the last inch of space between us. I could feel the rigid line of his body, the tension in his shoulders, the heat radiating off him like a furnace.

"You talk a lot, Dhruv," I murmured, tilting my head back to keep his gaze. "You talk about rules. You talk about control. You talk about owning me."

I let my hand wander into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging it sharply. He inhaled his breath hissing through his teeth.

"But you're all talk, aren't you?" I taunted softly.

Oh God, Katha, my brain screamed. What are you doing? He is going to murder you. He is going to throw you out of the window. Stop it!

But my mouth didn't stop. It felt like I was possessed by someone braver, reckless, and infinitely more dangerous.

"You say I'm yours," I continued, tracing the line of his jaw with my other hand. "But last night in the car... you pulled away. You stopped."

Dhruv’s jaw clenched so hard I thought a tooth might crack. His grip on the wall beside my head tightened, his knuckles turning white.

"I stopped," he rasped, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble, "because I have self-control."

"Did you?" I laughed lightly, a breathless sound. "Or were you scared?"

His eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated fury. "Scared?"

"Terrified," I whispered. "Terrified that if you kissed me... you wouldn't be the big, bad boss anymore. You'd just be a man who wants his wife."

Poke the bear, I thought hysterically. Go on, poke him with a stick. See what happens. RIP Katha.

"You think I'm scared of you?" Dhruv snarled, leaning in until his nose brushed mine.

"Prove it," I challenged.

I stood on my tiptoes, forcing him to acknowledge exactly how close we were.

"If you own me, Dhruv... then own me," I breathed against his mouth. "Don't just threaten me with words. Make me feel it. Price it. Kiss me."

I waited. My lungs were burning. My legs were shaking so bad I was practically hanging off his neck.

Please kiss me. Please don't kill me.

Dhruv stared at me. For a split second, I saw a war in his eyes—logic versus instinct, control versus chaos.

Chaos won.

"Fine," he growled.

He didn't lean in. He crashed.

His mouth slammed onto mine with a force that knocked the breath out of me. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was an attack.

He kissed me like he wanted to devour me whole. His hands left the wall and clamped onto my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh through the beige dress, pulling me up and into him until I could feel every hard plane of his body.

I gasped, opening my mouth to breathe, and he took the opportunity, deepening the kiss instantly. His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding, tasting, claiming.

It tasted like coffee and rage.

I groaned, wrapping my legs around his instinctually, but he kept me pinned to the wall. I kissed him back with everything I had. I bit his lower lip, fighting for dominance, fighting to prove I wasn't just something he bought.

He tastes insane, my mind spun dizzily. He tastes like trouble.

His hand slid down from my waist to my thigh, gripping the exposed skin through the slit of the dress. His thumb pressed into the soft flesh, rough and calloused. The friction sent a bolt of lightning straight to my core.

I arched into him, my fingers tangling tighter in his hair, pulling him closer if that was even possible.

We were fighting. We were kissing. I couldn't tell the difference anymore. It was a clash of teeth and tongues and heavy, desperate panting.

He broke the kiss for a second, gasping for air, his forehead resting against mine. His eyes were blown wide, black and wild.

"You want me to own you?" he panted, his voice wrecked. "Careful what you wish for, Katha."

"I'm not scared of you," I lied, my voice trembling.

"You should be," he whispered.

He kissed me again, harder this time, tilting my head back, exposing my throat. He trailed his lips down my jawline, sucking the sensitive skin right below my ear.

"Dhruv..." I whimpered, my head falling back against the wall.

He growled in response, his hand moving higher on my thigh.

Holy hell, I thought, my vision blurring. We are doing this. In his office. With the door locked. I am going to have a heart attack.

The intercom on his desk buzzed.

BZZZZZT.

The sound was like a bucket of ice water.

Dhruv froze. His lips were still on my neck. His hand was still under my dress.

BZZZZZT.

"Sir?" The secretary’s voice crackled through the silence. "The legal team is here for the 10:30."

Dhruv let out a curse that would have made a sailor blush.

He pulled back.

He looked at me. My lips were swollen. My hair was a mess. My dress was rumpled.

He looked down at himself. His chest was heaving. His tie was crooked.

He stepped back, running a hand aggressively through his hair. He turned his back to me, gripping the edge of his desk, his knuckles white.

"Give me a minute," he barked at the intercom.

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

I slumped against the wall, my legs finally giving out. I slid down a few inches before catching myself. I touched my lips. They were throbbing.

I won, I thought dizzily. I challenged him, and he broke.

My chest was heaving as if I had just run a marathon.

I leaned against the cool wall, bringing trembling fingers up to touch my lips. They felt swollen, bruised, and agonizingly sensitive.

Oh my God, Katha, I screamed internally. You literally did that.

I had pulled Dhruv Rathore—the man terrified of intimacy, the man made of ice—down to my level. And I had ignited him.

It was reckless. It was stupid.

But God, it was hot.

I looked at him. He was standing by the desk, aggressively straightening his tie, his back rigid. He looked rattled. For the first time since I met him, the perfect facade was cracked. He looked like a man who had lost control, and he hated it.

A sudden, bubbly laugh escaped my throat.

Dhruv whipped around. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You find this funny?"

"I find you funny," I breathed, pushing myself off the wall. My legs were shaking, but I forced them to hold me up. I smoothed my dress, regaining my composure.

"Look at you," I whispered, walking slowly toward him. "You look scared."

"I am not scared," he snapped, buttoning his jacket with unnecessary force.

"You are," I countered, stopping just out of reaching distance. "My whole life, I was the one who was scared, Dhruv. Scared of my uncle. Scared of poverty. Scared of you."

I tilted my head, looking him dead in the eye.

"But I’m tired of being scared. Because I realized something just now."

I pointed to the wedding ring on his finger.

"You can't do anything to me," I said, my voice gaining strength. "You publicly announced me as your wife. We signed a contract for one year. Clause 12, remember? You can't break it before 1 year. You can't leave me dhruv."

I took a step closer, invading his personal space again.

"You are stuck with me, Mr. Rathore," I smirked. "And that terrifies you."

Dhruv went still. The frantic energy in him settled into something darker, colder, and infinitely more dangerous.

He took one long step forward, closing the gap. He didn't touch me, but he loomed over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

"Oh, so the doll has started talking, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and silky.

He reached out, gripping the edge of the desk behind me, trapping me without laying a finger on my skin.

"Your uncle told me you were silent," Dhruv said, his eyes scanning my face with intense scrutiny. "He said you were obedient. A meek little thing who does what she's told. He was wrong."

"He didn't know me," I whispered. "And neither do you."

"Don't try to challenge me, Katha," Dhruv warned. His gaze dropped to my throat, lingering on the pulse that was fluttering wildly. "You think a piece of paper protects you? You think a scandal scares me?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"I am not a man who follows rules, Katha. I make them. And right now... you are pushing your luck."

"Or what?" I breathed, shivering as his warm breath hit my skin.

"Or I will remind you exactly who is in charge," he growled.

He moved his hand. He didn't grab me. He slid his palm up my bare arm, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"Just behave like a good wife," he ordered, his thumb digging into my jaw. "Sit in the corner. Look pretty. And don't play with fire."

I looked into his abyss-like eyes. He wanted submission. He wanted the quiet girl back.

But that girl had died the moment he kissed me.

I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. I didn't pull his hand away. I held it there, pressing his palm harder against my face.

"I will be a good wife, Dhruv," I whispered, my voice dripping with defiance.

I leaned forward, my lips grazing his chin.

"But only if you learn to be a good husband."

Dhruv’s eyes flared. His grip on my chin tightened painfully for a second, a flash of pure possessiveness crossing his face.

"Careful," he rasped. "A good husband would take you right here on this desk and make you forget your own name."

My breath hitched. My core clenched violently at the image.

"Sir?" The intercom buzzed again, insistent and loud. "The lawyers are waiting."

Dhruv pulled back. He looked at me one last time—a look that promised retribution, a look that said this isn't over—and then he stepped away.

He adjusted his cuffs, the mask of the CEO sliding back into place instantly.

"Stay here," he commanded, his voice devoid of the heat from seconds ago. "Don't move. Don't talk to anyone. And fix your hair. You look like you've been ravished."

Dhruv didn't leave.

Maybe he couldn't face the boardroom looking like he’d been ravaged, or maybe he just couldn't bring himself to walk away from the fight. Instead, he had paced to the far side of the room, jamming his phone to his ear, taking the legal meeting via a conference call.

I sat on the leather sofa, gulping down air, watching him.

He was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His hand was running through his hair repeatedly, messing up the perfect style. He was barking orders into the phone about clauses and liabilities, his voice sharp and aggressive.

He is rattled, I realized, a strange sense of calm washing over me. For the first time since I met him, he is genuinely unnerved.

I watched the tension in his shoulders. He was trying so hard to reassemble his composure, trying to bury the man who had just pinned me to the wall under layers of corporate jargon.

He is so egoistic, I thought, tracing the pattern of the leather armrest. He hates that I challenged him. He wants to buy everyone. He wants everyone to be suppressed, silent, and obedient—just like his father wanted him to be.

I looked down at my lap, my hands resting on the beige fabric of my dress.

Katha, you can't keep crying for everything, I told myself sternly. Look at the pattern. When you begged, he treated you like furniture. When you cried, he gave you money. But when you spoke up? When you looked him in the eye and dared him?

I touched my lips. They were still tingling.

Things changed.

He didn't want a victim. He wanted an equal, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. He wanted someone who could withstand his storms without breaking.

My eyes drifted back to him. He was leaning against the glass window now, looking out at the city, his back to me. He looked powerful, yes. But he also looked incredibly solitary.

You have power, Katha, the realization whispered in my mind. You don't even realize it, do you?

I wasn't just a random girl anymore. I was Mrs. Dhruv Rathore. I was his wife in front of the whole world. He had signed that paper. He had put his name next to mine.

I know he is a businessman, I thought, my gaze softening as I watched him rub the back of his neck wearily. I know he is ruthless. He could technically erase me. He could ruin my life with a snap of his fingers.

But he wouldn't.

Not because of the contract.

He won't do it because I know the person inside him.

I knew the boy who stood alone in family photos. I knew the man who slept with two pillows because he was afraid of his own need for comfort.

And God help me... I wanted him.

The thought didn't scare me as much as it should have.

I like it, I admitted to myself, feeling a flush rise on my neck. I like it when he is close to me. I like the way he looks at me when he loses control—like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

It wasn't just the thrill of the danger. It was him.

I stood up slowly. Dhruv was still on the call, arguing about a deadline.

I am going to make him fall for me, I decided. The thought was audacious, crazy, and absolutely necessary.

I don't know how I’ll do it. I don't know if I can fix twenty years of damage.

But looking at his rigid back, I knew one thing: I couldn't leave him in that darkness. He had saved me from poverty, in his own twisted way. Now, I had to save him from his loneliness.

I want you, Dhruv Rathore, I thought, a small, determined smile curving my lips. And I’m not just going to be your contract wife. I’m going to be your reality.

Dhruv hung up the phone. He turned around, expecting to see me cowed in the corner.

Instead, I was standing there, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Are you done?" I asked softly.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of my calm. "Yes."

"Good," I said. "Because we have work to do."

I wasn't the doll anymore. I was the player. And the game had just become very, very real.