Chapter 6: No More Pretending

SAESHA POV

The night feels different with Dad gone.

His flight is in the air by now. He probably hasn’t even turned his phone back on after takeoff. The house across the lawn is dark, and mine is empty in a way that feels dangerous.

Because I’m not there.

I’m here. In his bed.

Veeraj’s sheets smell like smoke and cedar, like power and permanence. They don’t smell like borrowed space. They smell like home, and that thought alone makes my pulse stumble.

He leans against the headboard, broad shoulders back, watching me like I’m not just in his bed but locked in place. His eyes travel over me slow, unapologetic, as if he’s cataloguing what he already owns.

“Still thinking about lying to him?” he asks. His voice is calm, which makes it worse.

I swallow. “I wasn’t lying. Not really.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You told your father you were safe in another girl’s house. While you were bent over my desk.”

Heat scorches my face. “You made me.”

“You liked it,” he corrects. His lips curve, cruel and amused. “You liked being my dirty little liar.”

I shift under the sheets. My thighs squeeze together automatically. Shame curls hot in my stomach because he’s right. My body had betrayed me then, and it’s betraying me now.

“I shouldn’t have,” I whisper.

“But you did,” he says. “And now he’s half a world away. Tokyo, wasn’t it?”

I nod.

“Good,” Veeraj says. “That means no more pretending. You don’t tiptoe out of here tonight. You don’t sneak. You stay.”

My throat tightens. The words should terrify me. They don’t. They make me dizzy.

“And if I say no?” I ask.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The shadows sharpen his face into something dark, dangerous, inevitable. “Then you’ll say it again tomorrow. And the next night. Until you’re honest.”

My pulse hammers. “Honest about what?”

His smile cuts sharp. “That you want to be here. That you’d rather choke on my name than sleep in your pretty little pink sheets across the lawn.”

The humiliation burns, but it stirs something deeper.

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting. “But I’m right. Aren’t I, Principessa?”

I shake my head, but it feels weak even to me.

He rises from the bed in one smooth motion, crossing to me like the room belongs to his stride. He takes my chin in his hand, firm enough to make me look up. His thumb brushes my lower lip, slow, deliberate.

“You think this is still a game,” he says. “It isn’t. Not anymore. Your dad left you with me. And I don’t return things.”

My breath stutters. The words drop like stones in my stomach, heavy and true.

His eyes drag down to my stomach, linger there in a way that makes me shiver. “You’ll feel me for days,” he says softly. “Maybe longer. Maybe I’ll make sure of it.”

The implication slams through me. Breeding. Claiming. The kind of ownership that lives under skin, in blood.

I shake my head fast. “No. That’s insane.”

He smirks. “Your body didn’t say no last night. Or this morning. It begged. You begged.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” he interrupts, sharper now. “You begged me like a needy little slut while your father’s name was still on your tongue. And you’ll beg again.”

The degradation makes my stomach twist. I hate it. I crave it. I’m trembling because of it.

He releases my chin, only to grip the back of my neck, guiding me down until I’m on the bed beneath him, sheets cool, his heat everywhere.

“You’re mine now, Saesha,” he murmurs, lips ghosting my ear. “Every inch. Every sound. Every secret. Mine.”

My breath comes in gasps. “And if I say I hate you?”

“Then say it,” he growls. “Say you hate me while you cling to me. Say it while you let me back inside. Say it while you come screaming for me. I’ll still hear the truth.”

My body shudders. My pride is unraveling thread by thread, and he’s tugging every strand.

“Say it,” he repeats, low, dangerous. “Or admit it. Admit you love being ruined by me.”

The words choke in my throat. I can’t give him that victory. Not yet.

He leans back, eyes cutting into mine. “Fine. Don’t say it tonight.” He smirks, satisfied. “You’ll say it soon enough.”

He pulls me fully beneath the covers, his body covering mine like a vow. The sheets trap us both in his heat. My chest is heaving, but he doesn’t care. He holds me there, jaw against my temple, voice dark as the night.

“You’re not leaving this bed tonight, Principessa,” he says. “Or tomorrow. Or the night after.”

“Veeraj—”

He cuts me off, lips brushing my ear. “You’ll stay until you admit you want everything I give you. Even the things you swear you don’t.”

The words sink into me like chains I don’t want to fight.

You’re not leaving this bed tonight.

My pulse stutters. I try to sit up, but his palm presses flat against my stomach, pinning me down without effort. He doesn’t even look strained. I hate how my body reacts to that kind of power—heat surging low, thighs clenching, lungs refusing to hold air.

“Veeraj—” My voice cracks.

“Say my name like that again,” he growls, leaning closer, “and I’ll keep you here for a week straight.”

My lips part, but no sound comes. My heart bangs in my ears. A week. My dad would never know. Nobody would. It would just be me—stuck in this bed, under him, undone.

He tilts my chin so I can’t look anywhere else. “You want to run back to your soft little room across the lawn? Pretend you’re innocent? That’s over. You made your choice the second you walked in my door.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” he cuts me off. “You came dressed like temptation. You gave me that mouth. You lied to your father with me still inside you. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’ve become.”

Shame twists sharp in my chest. His words are cruel—but the worst part is the way they spark something inside me. Something hot. Something undeniable.

“I’m not your—”

“Yes, you are,” he snaps, pressing me deeper into the mattress. “You’re mine, Saesha. My filthy little liar. My Principessa. My problem now. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

The declaration hits harder than any touch. My throat tightens. My body betrays me, arching up into his weight.

He notices. Of course he does. His smirk is wicked. “There she is. My dirty girl who pretends to argue while her body begs for more.”

“Stop calling me that,” I whisper.

“What?” His brow arches. “Dirty girl? Slut? Liar?” His mouth curves darkly. “Or daddy’s good little whore?”

Heat blasts through me. My chest heaves. I should scream at him. I should fight. Instead, my lips part on a sound that betrays me.

He laughs low, satisfied. “Thought so.”

The bed shifts as he drags me closer, caging me with his arms. His breath sears the side of my face, his words hot enough to brand. “You’ll sleep here tonight. And tomorrow. And the night after. Until you stop pretending you don’t love every filthy thing I do to you.”

My voice is small, trembling. “And if I never admit it?”

His smile is pure sin. “Then I’ll keep you in this bed until you break.”

The promise coils around me like smoke. My pulse pounds, equal parts fear and craving. He leans down, his mouth brushing my temple like a mark of ownership.

“Get used to it, Principessa,” he murmurs. “Your dad may be in Tokyo, but I’m the one you answer to now.”

The sheets trap me in his heat, his scent, his claim. My body aches everywhere, but I don’t move. I can’t. Because deep down, I don’t want to.

Not tonight. Not anymore.

End of Chapter 6