MasukThe storm peaked just after midnight.
Wind battered the estate with violent persistence, rattling the windows until the glass trembled in its frames. Snow screamed across the grounds, piling high against the walls as though trying to bury the house whole.
Elena lay awake beneath the covers, heart racing.
She hadn’t changed out of her nightgown, though the silk dress from the night before lay discarded over a chair like evidence she didn’t want to acknowledge. Every time she closed her eyes, her body betrayed her remembering the weight of Julian’s presence, the command in his voice, the promise he hadn’t needed to finish.
We’ll continue.
The lights died without warning.
Darkness swallowed the room. The low hum of heat vanished. Silence followed thick, ominous.
Elena sat up sharply. “Chloe?” she called, already knowing she wouldn’t hear an answer.
The cold crept in fast.
Then footsteps.
A soft click at her door.
A beam of light cut through the dark, sweeping across frost-laced windows before settling at the foot of her bed. Julian stood there, backlit, unmistakable even without seeing his face.
“The main power line is down,” he said quietly. “The generator’s fuel line is frozen.”
Her pulse spiked. “I—I have blankets.”
“They won’t be enough by morning.” He stepped fully inside, setting the flashlight on the vanity so it cast a muted glow upward. He wore a silk robe, dark and loosely tied, the fabric clinging to him in a way that made her breath hitch. “The East Wing is the warmest part of the house. My suite has a functioning stove.”
Elena swallowed. “I can stay here.”
Julian crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. The mattress dipped, pulling her closer to him without her permission.
“You’re shaking,” he said calmly. His hand closed around her shoulder, firm, steady. “Come.”
It wasn’t a request.
She whispered, “This is wrong,” even as she let him guide her to her feet.
Across the hall, his suite glowed faintly with firelight. The air was warmer, thick with cedar and something unmistakably masculine. He led her to the bed a massive thing layered in furs and heavy cotton and drew her down with him.
Julian lay behind her, his body curved to hers, heat seeping into her back. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Elena gasped softly.
“Quiet,” he murmured against her neck. “The house doesn’t need to hear you.”
His hand moved slowly, deliberately down her arm, across her waist, fingers splaying as if learning her shape by touch alone. She felt every inch of him behind her: solid, unyielding, terrifyingly real.
“You knew this would happen,” he said quietly. “The moment you stayed.”
Her chest tightened. “Chloe”
“Is asleep,” he interrupted. “And you’re exactly where you want to be.”
His mouth brushed her neck not a kiss, not yet. Just a warning. Her body arched involuntarily into him.
“You’ve been watching me for years,” he continued, voice low and certain. “You thought I didn’t notice? Every look. Every hesitation. Every time you froze when I stood too close.”
He rolled her onto her back, his weight settling over her, pinning her without pressure without force. His hands framed her head, his face inches from hers.
“You’re not confused, Elena,” he said. “You’re awake.”
Her breath came fast. Her hands rested against his chest, not pushing him away.
Julian dipped his head, his mouth hovering over hers, letting the moment stretch until it hurt.
“Last chance,” he murmured. “If I kiss you, there’s no pretending after.”
She didn’t answer.
She lifted her chin.
That was all he needed.
His mouth claimed hers slow, deep, devastating. Not rushed. Not gentle. A kiss that erased distance and doubt in one deliberate motion.
Outside, the storm
howled.
Inside, Elena surrendered to the truth she could no longer deny.
By the time night fully settled over the Sharma haveli, the courtyard had transformed into something almost otherworldly.Hundreds of tiny lights had been strung along the balconies and pillars, glowing like captured stars. Oil lamps flickered along the stone pathways, their flames dancing softly in the warm evening air.At the center of the courtyard stood the mandap.Four carved wooden pillars held up a canopy draped in thousands of marigolds and white orchids. The flowers hung in thick garlands, their bright colors glowing beneath the golden lights.It looked beautiful.Sacred.And yet something about the atmosphere felt strangely tense, like the calm before a storm.At the heart of the mandap, the sacred fire burned.The flames rose steadily from the copper havan kund, fed by ghee and sandalwood offered by the priest. Smoke curled upward in pale ribbons, carrying the scent of incense through the courtyard.Guests filled every available space.Relatives sat cross-legged on white cu
The sound reached the neighborhood long before the cars did.At first it was distant just the faint thump of drums echoing through the warm Delhi morning.Then the music grew louder.Dhol beats rolled through the narrow streets like thunder, bouncing off old brick walls and crowded balconies. Brass instruments joined in, blaring bright celebratory notes that seemed to vibrate through the entire neighborhood.Children ran into the street first.They knew the sound.“The baraat!” one of them shouted excitedly.Within minutes, the entire lane outside the Sharma haveli was alive.Neighbors leaned over their balconies to watch the spectacle unfold. Shopkeepers stepped out from their storefronts. Aunties who had sworn they would stay home somehow appeared at the gates within seconds, adjusting their saris as they hurried closer.Weddings were always public events in Delhi.But this wedding was something else entirely.This was the wedding of the mysterious foreign billionaire and the girl w
The morning of the wedding arrived beneath a sky that felt too heavy.The air over Delhi carried an oppressive heat, thick and unmoving, as though the city itself was holding its breath. Even the early sunlight seemed dimmed behind a haze of dust and humidity.Inside the Sharma haveli, the quiet of the night had vanished.The house had become a whirlwind.Relatives rushed through corridors carrying trays of flowers and jewelry. Aunties shouted instructions from one end of the courtyard to the other. The sound of bangles clinking and footsteps echoing across marble floors created a constant rhythm of chaos.Priests had already arrived and were preparing the sacred fire in the courtyard. Marigold garlands were replaced and straightened. Musicians tested their instruments near the entrance gate.It was the kind of controlled madness that only a wedding could produce.But in the center of the storm, Elena sat in silence.Her room had been transformed overnight into something resembling a
The haveli was finally quiet.For the first time in days, the constant noise of wedding preparations had faded into silence. The courtyard that had been overflowing with relatives, music, and laughter now lay still beneath the moonlight.Most of the family had collapsed into exhausted sleep after the long Haldi ceremony.Even the fairy lights had been switched off, leaving only the soft glow of a few lanterns flickering along the corridors.Outside the walls, Delhi never truly slept. The distant hum of traffic drifted through the warm night air, mixing with the chirping of crickets and the occasional bark of a stray dog somewhere down the street.Inside her room, Elena sat on the edge of the bed.Her skin still carried the faint golden tint of turmeric from the Haldi ceremony. No matter how many times she had washed her hands, traces of the yellow paste remained along the edges of her fingers.Her wedding was only hours away.Six hours.By sunrise, she would be standing before a pries
Morning arrived with the scent of turmeric and rosewater.The haveli had barely slept.After the music and dancing of the Sangeet, the household had woken again before sunrise to begin preparations for the next ritual in the long chain of wedding ceremonies.The Haldi.It was meant to be a moment of purification.A moment of blessing.Turmeric paste bright yellow and fragrant would be applied to the bride and groom by family members. The paste was said to cleanse the body, ward off bad luck, and prepare the couple for the sacred vows ahead.At least, that was the tradition.Inside the haveli that morning, however, nothing felt entirely pure.The inner courtyard had been transformed overnight.White cloth draped the pillars, fluttering gently in the warm morning breeze. Brass bowls filled with turmeric paste, sandalwood oil, and rose petals sat on low tables. Marigold garlands hung from the balcony railings, their golden petals glowing in the early sunlight.Women of the family filled
By the time the night of the Sangeet arrived, the haveli had transformed completely.The old courtyard usually quiet except for the sound of family chatter and the rustle of mango leaves glowed like something out of a dream.Marigold garlands hung from the balconies in thick golden ropes, their petals bright against the old stone walls. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed above the courtyard, casting a warm shimmer over the gathering crowd.Music pulsed through the air tabla drums, harmonium, and the steady rhythm of clapping hands.The scent of jasmine floated everywhere, mixing with the irresistible smell of pakoras frying in the kitchen.For any outsider looking in, it would appear to be a joyful celebration.But inside the haveli, beneath the music and laughter, tension coiled like a snake.The Sangeet was meant to be a night of celebration.Instead, it had become a psychological battlefield.Neighbors filled the courtyard.Relatives who hadn’t visited the haveli in years suddenl







