The corridor was too silent. Too silent. Innaya had just placed the last of the dishes back on the rack when she felt it - a shift in the air, a hum beneath her skin.

He was here. She rounded the corner of the long marble hallway, hoping to reach the east wing staircase unseen, but-

"Stop."

Her feet froze.

That voice. Slow. Lethal. She didn't need to look. She felt him.....Raahil Raizada. Grey shirt unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled, hair tousled as though he'd run his hands through it in frustration - or restraint. The sharp scent of whisky clung to him like sin.

"Come here."

She hesitated.

He tilted his head. "Did I stutter?"

Her legs moved unbidden, heavy with dread and heat. He didn't touch her. Not yet. Just stared - like she was both offense and obsession.

"You've been getting very comfortable," he murmured. "Looking at my brother. Talking to him."

"I didn't-"

"I'm not done." His voice dropped an octave. "I said I'm watching. And I meant it."

She looked away. "I serve this house. That's all."

"Really?" His whisper cut through the air like glass as he stepped closer. "Then why the lavender anarkali tonight? Why the kajal? Why leave your hair loose? Why the dance ?Why do you look like you want someone to notice you?"

"I wore it for Rigveda," she said quietly. "Not for anyone else."

Wrong answer. He moved faster than she could react. Cornered. His hand slammed on the wall beside her head, boxing her in. His eyes burned with something primal. Possessive. Starving.

"You think I don't see it?" he growled. "The sway of your hips when you walk away? The curve of your lips when you talk sweetly to other men?"

"I'm not trying to-"

"I don't care what you're trying to do," he snapped. "Because it's working. And it's pissing me off."

Her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. She couldn't move. Wouldn't. Something in his stare pinned her in place.

"Say it," he whispered, leaning in, his breath brushing her cheek. "Say it."

"That you belong to this house. That every step you take is mine to control."

She lifted her eyes, voice breaking. "I belong to no one."

He smiled. Dark. Twisted. His fingers grazed her jaw - neither rough nor tender, but with a slow, deliberate promise that made her spine lock.

"You're lucky I don't like girls like you," he said, that old line, but tonight it trembled with something darker.

She swallowed hard, pulse hammering, the words echoing in her mind. She knew he was right - he hated girls like her - but she didn't say a thing.

The air stilled. He didn't respond. He leaned closer; his lips brushed her ear.

"If I ever decide to want you , Innaya..."

A breath.

"I won't need your permission."

Then, like smoke, he stepped back. Cold. Remote. But his fingers trailed down her arm - a whisper of contact that burned through fabric and into her bones.

She was left trembling. Breathless. Confused.

He walked away.

But this time... he didn't walk like he'd won. He walked like a man trying not to fall.