Chapter 6 The Agreement

"You took advantage of me, Mr. Director! What you just did proves how despicably low you really are!" Raellyn snapped, her voice shaking with fury as she sprang to the side, putting distance between them. She had no desire to escalate this mess any further.

Arnav tilted his head, studying her with quiet amusement. "That sharp tongue of yours, Miss Raellyn... quite the contrast to your finesse with a blade."

"Degenerate!" she spat. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since Raellyn had stepped into his office, and yet Arnav had already dared to approach her no, steal a kiss from her. It wasn't their first, but that made it no less outrageous.

Raellyn had never imagined he would be bold enough. She had only mimicked seduction, thinking it would repel him as it did most men. But Arnav had flipped the script. He hadn't recoiled he had attacked.

Her chest heaved. She was still reeling from the kiss the audacity of it, the fire it ignited, and the shameful truth that her body had responded. That kiss, laced with both dominance and contradiction, had shattered something inside her. What kind of man could twist her will like that?

A dangerous one.

Yes, Arnav embodied every trait of a man to be feared far more than she had anticipated.

Even now, her skin burned at the memory of his touch, the way he had pressed his body against hers and claimed her lips like he had every right to. Like resistance was beneath him.

Now he stood there, unreadable, his gaze fixed on her with something feral behind it. The subtle movements of his body mirrored that of a starving lion. Every instinct inside Raellyn screamed to strike him. Her fingers itched for the hilt of the blade he'd so cleverly disarmed her of moments ago. He was smart, but more than that he was cunning.

Arnav arched an eyebrow at her clenched fists. "Still interested in continuing our little negotiation? Or have you simply redirected your vendetta after failing to extract retribution from my brother?"

The question dripped with mock concern, his voice as casual as if they were discussing the weather. Yet something about the way he phrased it made her pulse quicken.

"I see now where Arsene inherited his disgraceful tendencies and his depravity," she hissed.

Arnav smirked, leaning slightly forward. "Did you honestly believe I was a man of virtue, Miss Raellyn? How painfully naïve. In fact, I was just thinking about how best to fuck you before you leave."

The sheer vulgarity of his words stunned her. Arnav stood there like a monarch on a throne, drunk on his own arrogance, convinced of his dominion over everyone including her.

Raellyn searched his face, trying to find a crack, a weakness something she could use against him. But in that fleeting silence, one truth became clear.

He was seething.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. The slight curve of his lips, the way he leaned on the edge of the desk it was all a façade. His eyes, those ocean-deep eyes, blazed with intensity that defied interpretation. But whatever this was between them, it was already skewed. And she Raellyn was the one left vulnerable.

Regret clawed at her. She had grossly underestimated him. Arnav wasn't anything like Arsene. Or the parade of men who came knocking at her door each weekend, promising her marriage in exchange for her beauty and a cheap dowry.

Arnav was not polite. He wasn't easy to talk to. He didn't fit the mold of a respectable man whose name climbed the ranks of high society. He could not be manipulated. He could not be fooled.

He was a serpent cloaked in power and privilege. Clever beyond reason. Ruthless. Wealthy. And disturbingly perceptive. And for the first time, Raellyn doubted if she could ever match him despite what others said about her brilliance.

From him emanated a dark, coiled power. A magnetic sensuality that unnerved her. Even now, with a mere curl of his lips, his eyes held an icy disdain. His reputation as a ruthless businessman was evidently well-earned and if the rumors were true, he had traded favors and helped launch careers in exchange for physical submission. If that were the case, then Raellyn had played this all wrong.

"You're angry," she said suddenly, her gaze boring into his face, searching for proof of what she already suspected. "You're angry because you weren't the first. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

The words spilled out without caution pure emotion overriding logic.

And with them, the dread.

She knew she had crossed a line. But it was too late to retreat now.

"You're mistaken," Arnav replied at last, voice quiet. "I loathe liars."

There was no connection between his statements, and yet somehow, he had just weaponized them against her.

"I merely spoke my truth," Raellyn said, smiling bitterly. "And I told you the truth."

"Arsene did nothing to you. And if he did, then he's even more pathetic than I thought."

Her breath caught. The cruelty of that remark punched the air from her lungs.

"You truly believe I'm lying?" Her voice trembled now. "Do you think I'd go through all this if I were making it up? I'm only holding Arsene to the promise he made to marry me. I swear on what little honor I have left that your brother toyed with me!"

He continued to stare at her, cold and unrelenting. But Raellyn stood her ground, pushing down the firestorm of emotions tearing through her chest.

"A woman like you has no honor left to swear by," he said, his words like the edge of a blade.

Her face flushed not with shame, but with a rage that was quickly spiraling out of her control.

"Look at you. You're blushing. Embarrassed, aren't you? Because I just exposed your little charade."

"Blushing?" she scoffed, lifting her chin defiantly. "Consider it an act of humility, Mr. Director."

"A woman who brings a weapon and tries to negotiate with fabricated drama... how fascinating." He took a languid step closer. "Tell me, Miss Raellyn, what other talents are you hiding behind that pretty face and delectable body? Can you perhaps play the piano while singing? Or maybe you dance? I recommend pole dancing it suits you."

Her body betrayed her with a sudden weakness, a collapse of tension in her limbs as Arnav's gaze leisurely swept across her figure.

She stood taller, steadying herself, then responded with unwavering confidence. "No. But I know how to create tension in a film. I can write drama like a seasoned playwright. I have no interest in that crude form of dance you suggested, because I do not enjoy being consumed by the stares of strangers. And, for the record, I happen to be excellent at dealing with arrogant men. Like the one standing in front of me right now."

Without reacting to her barb, Arnav walked over to his desk, picked up the phone, and began speaking to someone, utterly ignoring her simmering outrage.

Moments later, a knock sounded, and the male assistant who had previously escorted her entered the room.

Raellyn went silent, caught off-guard by the shift in atmosphere.

The assistant bowed. "How may I assist you, sir?"

"Clear my schedule for the day," Arnav said. "And contact the marriage registrar. Also, I won't be returning to the office. I have a date with my future wife."

The floor beneath her seemed to tilt.

Raellyn collapsed into the nearest chair, stunned. She reached for the wine glass she had earlier refused and downed it in one gulp, abandoning all pretense of dignity.

What amazed her most was the assistant's composure completely unfazed by the sudden declaration. "Understood. I'll handle it," he replied, exiting with impeccable professionalism.

Only she and Arnav remained.

Raellyn exhaled slowly, trying to gather her wits. "Mr. Director, I... "

"Just Arnav," he interrupted. "We're in the intimate phase now. No need for formalities, Raellyn."

Her name rolled off his tongue like velvet, slow and deliberate. It sent a shiver down her spine. She stared at him, trying to decipher if he was suffering from some form of psychosis.

One moment he insulted her, venomous and brutal and now he smiled with a wicked tenderness that made her skin crawl.

"Do you accept my proposal?"