Then, Marry Me
Without a word, Arnav pulled open the desk drawer and retrieved a document the very thing he had been reaching for earlier. He tossed it across the desk. Raellyn caught it with trembling hands. Her breath caught in her throat.
It was a certified marriage certificate. Arsene’s name. Sylvia’s name. The date. The signatures.
Undeniable.
Her knees nearly buckled. The man she loved had played her like a fool. Her devotion had been repaid with betrayal of the cruelest kind. Her chest ached as though someone had stabbed her through the heart. But she refused to cry. Instead, she set the paper down and pushed it back toward Arnav.
"Does that clear up the misunderstanding between you and my brother?" Arnav’s voice was mocking again.
Raellyn exhaled slowly. "Yes. That’s quite the revelation makes my heart pound in a whole new way."
She meant it. Her heart wasn’t just pounding. It was breaking. Shattering beyond repair.
"One million dollars. That’s my first and final offer. No further negotiation," Arnav said, rising from his chair. He walked around the desk, slowly approaching where she stood. The sudden movement jolted Raellyn to attention. Instinctively, she stepped back.
"What are you doing?" Her voice cracked, panic slipping through.
He said nothing. Just kept walking toward her, unwavering.
"You heard me! Don’t come any closer!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off the office walls. But strangely, there was no sound from outside. No one rusing to check on the commotion.
Don’t tell me this place—
“I suppose you’ve realized it, haven’t you? This room is soundproof. And it’s not my fault for doing this after all, you threw yourself into the lion’s den, begging to be devoured.”
Raellyn now found herself pressed against one of the tall bookcases lining the office walls. Its wooden spine cold and unyielding against her skin. Her heart thudded with feral urgency, a rhythm that betrayed her fear. Her breath came in shallow bursts, though her eyes burned with defiance as they locked onto Arnav’s. Her gaze fierce and unflinching. Fear licked at the edges of her mind not just because of the man standing before her, but of what he might do next. Or worse, what might happen if he managed to pull down the mask covering her face.
She imagined the worst his hands prying away the thin disguise she wore, revealing everything she had tried to bury. She was already planning to land a vicious kick or a punch. Her fingers curled slightly, ready to fight back, to claw or strike. She counted one, two, three each number a desperate plea for self-control. But the footsteps she dreaded never came.
Arnav didn’t move toward her. Instead, he walked with leisurely grace toward a sideboard, the shadows folding behind him as though they too bowed to his presence. Without a word, he reached for a crystal decanter, its contents glinting a ruby red under the dim chandelier. With that same arrogant smirk on his face, he poured the wine with the precision of a man who had never tasted desperation, into two glasses that shimmered like temptation itself.
He glanced at her his smile sinfully calm.
“Are you starting to be tempted by my offer?” he asked, voice laced with mockery.
A sudden image of her uncle’s crumbling house seared her thoughts. Walls stained with time. The debts that grew like weeds, choking every breath of their lives. One million dollars enough to open the door to survival, but still not enough to step into salvation. And yet, for a moment, the offer danced before her like a devil’s lullaby. Truth be told, part of her was tempted enticed by the brilliance of such a plan. But the amount... was still far too low.
She clenched her teeth.
“Is that what you think? That I’m weak enough to be bought? Arrogant of you, Sir Arnav,” she spat, her tone carved with disdain.
Thankfully, her pride and common sense still stood their ground. She couldn’t let herself forget the humiliation Arsene had subjected her to the betrayal that carved wounds into her heart and pride. No. If she was to burn in hell for what she was about to do, then she would not go alone. She would drag them with her. Yeah, someone else would burn with her. That was the only retribution worthy of this heartbreak.
Her eyes locked with Arnav’s again, and she no longer flinched beneath his gaze.
“So?” he prompted, a slight lift of his brow.
“Do you really think that pitiful offer could shake my resolve?” she sneered, clicking her tongue in open disdain. Her laugh was sharp, slicing through the air. “How laughable.”
“Pitiful? I’ve already been more than generous.” He set his glass aside and stepped into her space, his shadow merging with hers. Arnav sighed, head tilting back, exposing the elegant column of his throat. The light caught him just so casting him as something almost inhuman in his beauty. A cruel deity sculpted from cold marble and raw power.
Raellyn’s throat went dry, she swallowed hard. Her eyes unintentionally followed the motion of his neck, tracing the elegant curve of his throat. It was absurd a man like him, at the top of Hollywood’s entertainment hierarchy, should not possess that kind of natural beauty. No director should look like this. No man should carry this much gravity. He looked like something carved by the gods themselves. A masterpiece. If only his attitude didn’t ruin everything.
“Then tell me, what do you want, Miss?” he asked, still avoiding her eyes.
She leaned forward ever so slightly, “Something far more valuable than your money,” Raellyn answered with a cruel smile. “Don’t forget you just humiliated me and trampled on my dignity.”
His head turned sharply toward her.
“Trampled on your dignity? You speak of shame” he echoed, incredulous. “Did you forget I offered you one million dollars, Miss? Only a fool would act as though that wasn’t a blessing of divine proportion.” He stressed the word “fool” in a way that was clearly intended to provoke her.
Raellyn clenched her jaw. “Money can’t fix a broken heart, Director.”
In an instant, before she could react, Arnav surged forward. In the span of a heartbeat, he was upon her. His hand shot up, gripping her chin with brutal precision, tilting her face to his. Her breath fled her lungs. Eyes wide, limbs rigid Raellyn froze under his touch. But she wasn’t about to give him the upper hand. She refused to surrender.
If he wanted a game, she’d give him one. If this was a dance of predators, she would not be the prey. Slowly, she lifted her hand, brushing her fingertips along the curve of his chest lightly, teasingly with calculated seduction dragging them downward with practiced ease, as if she were born for this dangerous dance.
“If Arsene can’t marry me,” she said, voice low, almost seductive, “then I’ll give you the honor of replacing him. That’s the only thing that would make up for your brother’s disgrace and for the humiliation he painted on my family’s name.”