Pranavi was fuming, to say the least. She sat in the car, her arms crossed so tightly across her chest it felt like a barricade against the storm inside her. Her entire body was coiled like a spring, surrounded by his scent, Shivatya's...that maddeningly expensive cologne laced with his raw masculine musk. The scent curled in her lungs, heady and intoxicating, and made her stomach flip in a way that felt unnatural... traitorous.

God. First, he had the audacity to fuck his receptionist. Then he was found interacting with a prostitute at a sleazy, alcohol soaked club. And her parents wanted her to marry this man? This man? This arrogant, heartless bastard who didn't just ruin her life he owned the very breath she inhaled.