49

-• the trouble magnet •-

Taranya

Rudra works like a machine.

And I'm not even exaggerating at this point.

If he's not working in the office, he's working at home. If he's not working out in the gym, he's working at his desk. If he's not working on me, he's working on his computer. It's ridiculous. I've only ever seen someone work this hard when they're trying to put a meal on their table. But Rudra's the kind to ignore that meal just so he can get some more work done. He doesn't sleep properly, doesn't eat properly. It's not healthy, and it's not necessary, but it's as if that is where he actually lives, and outside his work is the life that he wants to avoid. The more I get to know this man, the more I understand him and the more it makes sense why he is the way he is. Because he doesn't know any other way. He doesn't see himself as valid, worthy if he's not proving himself constantly.

"I never thought I'll ever allow my husband to have another wife, but here I am," I comment, slipping playfulness in my tone.

He chuckles, and yet his eyes don't leave the screen.

"I'm starting to feel neglected." I say a little louder.

His smile just gets wider, but he gives no possible hint of getting away from those glaring LED screens.

Hiding my growing disappointment, I tug at the blanket and lie flat on the bed. "Good night," I say tersely, shutting off the lights on my side.

"I'm sorry, Esther. I'll join you in a few minutes, I promise." He mumbles distractedly.

By feeding his words any value, I'll only be setting myself up for another disappointment. Closing my eyes, I cozy up inside the thick blanket and hug the pillow to my chest, falling into a sleep induced daze almost immediately.

To my surprise, the bed dips a few minutes later and I grumble a little because of the disturbance, yanking the blanket over my head. A thick arm wounds around my waist and turns me on my other side. I poke my head out of the blanket to glare at the man. He laughs softly and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips, whispering, "I love you," in my ear. It instantly melts off any signs of resistance building up inside me and I give in, wrapping my arms tightly around his torso and burying my face in his chest.

"Don't work so much. It's not healthy." I murmur, my voice muffled against his hoodie.

"Sorry," he says.

I don't know what he's apologising me for. He's not offending me by working twenty hours a day. He's harming his own health. And I hope he realises it before his body makes him.

"Don't apologise to me. My mother used to say," I pause briefly, and he hums, telling me he's listening. "One needs to know their own good. To rely on yourself in bad times, you need to be nice to yourself during the good."

"One day I'll stop working like crazy. When I know I've done enough."

"And when do you think that will be?" I pull away to look up at him. He tilts his chin, staring at me with uncertainty. "You never earn enough, Rudra, you only earn more. And more never ceases, it never stops, it never ends."

He lies straight on his back, draping his arm across his forehead as he looks up at the ceiling. "People like me have to strive for more for us to be seen. I did not grow up in luxury like you. I had to fight for everything, even the basic necessities."

I pull away as the words punch me in the guts. He stiffens, realising what he said. "What?" I stare at him aghast. His arm comes down and he sits up to face me. "You think I grew up in privilege?" My voice wavers. "I- " my eyes instantly burn with fresh tears. I guess, I never expected insensitivity from this man, not of this level, not this personal. "I've spent sixteen years in poverty, Rudra. And of course, I'm nowhere comparing my childhood with yours, because I know you suffered, but don't invalidate my struggles."

"Tara, I-"

I hold up a hand. "I was fourteen when they told me my mother had cancer. I was just a child. A child that overnight had to grow up into an adult. I had to learn about household chores, I had to learn how to cook, and I had to do that alongside taking care of my sick mother. And I wasn't allowed a breakdown. Not when my mother was losing hair, weight, and perhaps even the will to live. I did not grow up in luxury, Rudra." My chin trembles. "I was a teenager when my brother found me. And for the first month, I had to live through their dislike towards me. I was not welcomed. I had to make my place in their lives. I had to fight for it." I whisper.

"I know, I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "Whatever I said to you did not come from ignorance. I'm not saying stop working and splurge the money you have. I'm saying take a break, I'm saying to rest for a while, to live the little moments in life."

He drops his head low.

"See? I told you. If we're not having sex, we're arguing." I look away.

I should have just let him work. I should have just gone to sleep. The night is ruined and I'm to blame.

"Just go and work," I lie down facing the other side.

He doesn't move for a while. And for a moment I think he'll lie back next to me and cajole me lovingly, then kiss me again and sleep with me in his arms. But I'm not surprised when he offers me another, soft spoken apology and goes back to his work desk.

As I overthink our little domestic argument, I wonder if it's normal to always have a difference of opinion among the couples. How are we going to work this out if we set each other off with littlest of comments? I don't realise when I overthink to the point my brain automatically shuts off and I drift off into deep slumber.

The next morning, I wake up tensed, the last night still fresh in my memory, but the worry washes off when I feel a pair of thick, sinewy arms wrapped around my body. I've no idea how I ended up draped across his lap, but somehow I did, and now I'm in this weird position that if I move, his whole body is going to know. But I try, and with minimal effort, manage to turn on my back. He has his head resting on the headboard, his lips slightly apart and I'm tempted to run my hand over his stubbled jaw, feel the cushiony softness of his lips, and kiss them until they're plump and juicy for me.

I chuck off the sexy thoughts with a shake of my head.

Not the time, Taranya.

Carefully, I peel off his heavy arms from my body and almost cheer in my head at the freedom when out of nowhere they return around my waist and draw me back on his lap. I yelp. Like a deer caught in headlights, I stare at him shocked as his long lashes flutter open, revealing the ebony chasms I'm so fascinated with.

"Where do you think you're going?" That husky drawl to his deep, sleep induced voice is doing things to me.

I look away, keeping my hands to myself, and my eyes everywhere but him.

"The comment of you growing up in luxury, it was out of pocket, I admit." His words tie a string around my attention, roping it back to his handsome as hell face. "Instead of understanding that you were just worried for me, I assumed you were judging me, thinking I'm money-minded and power hungry." He shrugs, struggling to explain himself.

"I don't care if you are."

His gaze darts to me in surprise.

"I don't care if you want more money, more power, more control. I just don't want you to lose yourself in that chase." I say, and my tone softens, "I don't want to lose you."

I avert my gaze as he keeps staring at me unblinkingly.

"I should have known," he cups my nape and draws me closer until our foreheads are touching. "You've never judged me. I should have known. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I whisper.

Lowering my face, I bury it in the crook of his neck and swallow a mouthful of his scent.

"Are you sniffing me?" He asks teasingly.

"You smell so good," I murmur, dragging my lips to his throat.

"Oh," he drops his head back, but his length grows beneath me, nudging the inside of my thigh.

I pull away and get out of my loose top. He opens his eyes, lust laced and hooded, they catch the rise and shrink of my chest, and he licks his lips. "Help me burn some calories so I can cut off a few minutes from my workout today."

He chuckles, and flips us over in a matter of seconds. I can never admire enough the way he so effortlessly moves me around in bed. Because I love myself some rough manhandling, only with consent, only during sex. Outside the bedroom is where I draw the line.

"How many calories?" He tosses his t-shirt aside, looking down at me smugly.

"Well, women on average burn 3.1 calories in a minute during sex." I shrug.

His jaw drops. "That's it?"

I hum. "An intense workout session burns around 300 calories in an hour."

If possible, he grows a little paler. "I've to compete with that?"

I pat his thigh sympathetically. "You gotta fight for your spot, mate."

He sits on the balls of his knees, bringing up his fingers like a little kid and doing the maths in his head. "If one minute burns 3.1 calories, then thirty minutes should burn 93 calories but- does it include foreplay? Or just the main action?" He asks me seriously.

Holy shit, he's adorable.

"If we don't count the foreplay, then the main action lasts for ten minutes, eleven on good days." He nods to himself. "And for the second round, fifteen minutes max. But-"

"Geez, you're like a kid with a telescope. Come here," Yanking his arm, I drag him until our mouths are mauling each other. He groans in the back of his throat and the sound makes me spread my legs wider. He hikes my right leg and throws it around his waist, grinding our lower bodies together as he rips his mouth off me and drags those warm, sexy lips down my throat, branding me as his with bites and nibbles all across my chest.

I've no idea how many calories he makes me burn, but I'm spent and exhausted by the end of it.

"I think, I love you." I blurt out, my teary gaze fixated on his beautiful countenance.

He laughs, cleaning his face and then coming over to clean me between the legs. He presses a soft kiss on my lips, "I'll take you more seriously when you don't look like you're high on orgasm."

I blink at him.

"Tara," he waves a hand in front of my face. "Are you still with me?"

I frown.

I don't know.

I can't really make sense of anything right now. "I- I think I need to sleep." I lie down, naked as the day I was born and pull my legs to my chest.

"Sleep," he runs a hand down my spine. "I'll be here when you wake up."

I fall asleep instantly, not a thought lingering in my head. It's when I wake up that I lose my shit. It's already eight. I should have been on my way to office right now.

"Why did you not wake me up!" I groan, grabbing the sheets and wrapping them around me. My legs buckle when I stand straight on the floor.

"Are you okay?" He looks away from the vanity mirror to regard me with concern.

"I'm fine!" I rush inside the bathroom, hiding the limp in my steps as best as I can. I'm so fucking sore down there I don't think a shower is going to help. I feel like a limbless creature only able to crawl. I'm stripped off the last shred of energy by the time I come out of the shower and get dressed. And then everything spins.

"Oh fuck, I thought they were just words. He really rocked my world." I clutch the glass shelf to keep myself upright. "Rudra!" It's embarrassing, but I don't think I'm making out of the closet without tripping or fainting.

He's at the doorstep in an instant. "What happened?" He reaches my side.

"What did you do?" I ask, throwing my arm around the back of his neck as he scoops me up in his arms and carries me out. "I feel drained. I think I'm hungry." I mumble once he's put me on the bed.

"I'll ring the reception to bring you something to eat." He pulls away, and goes to the deskside table where the receiver is. "They'll serve you in five minutes. Are you okay?"

I shake my head.

He returns to the bed and sits down in front of me. "Did I hurt you or something?"

"No, you just sucked me dry."

His lips quirk up in amusement.

"It's not funny. I've office. And I'm already late."

"Don't go. You look like you need rest." He advises.

I shake my head. "I can't. It's Friday. The end of the week. I've to be at the office."

He sighs. "Okay, but I'll drop you."

"You'll be needlessly late-"

"Don't fight me on this. I'll drop you." There's a knock on the door, and he gets up, receiving the tray from the maid and bringing it to me. I sit up straight. He settles the tray on my lap and helps me soak the soft bread in the soup so I can eat faster without having to waste time.

I stall the calls from the office as best as I can and manage to make it to my work place before afternoon. I'm not spared for coming late, but apart from a few scoldings and reprimandings, I'm let go easily.

When I return to the palace, I'm much more energised and like the little slut that I am, I already miss the blissed out state I was in this morning. I can't believe I confessed to him. Thank God, he didn't take me seriously. What the fuck was I even thinking?

Rudra makes it back in time for dinner. I can't thank him enough. These past few days I was hating having dinner with the remaining Rajawats. Usually, except for breakfast, no other meal had to be eaten together. But ever since Niharika became a permanent guest of the house, the dinners have grown into frequent occasions.

At the table, my phone pings and I slide it to my lap.

Shourya:

Look at all this food! What are you having?

I smile. Shourya frequently messages me since he knows I can't answer his calls regularly. It's endearing. And also heartbreaking.

My gaze darts to Rudra. He's busy on his phone, scrolling through some work related documents on the screen. He still doesn't know about that almost kiss that happened between me and Shourya. I don't know whether I should tell him or not. It won't happen again, right? Shourya pulled away when he realised I was uncomfortable. And he gave me time until I go to him on my own to explain my side. I've never been under the radar of Rudra's anger, but I've a feeling it's not a walk in the park. And I don't want to throw Shourya under a running bus. Especially when he's not at fault. We owe him an apology, not the other way around.

I look back down at my phone and type a response.

Me: Good lord, that's a whole feast. Not so lucky this side :(

Shourya: haha, you should come tomorrow night. I miss you. I'll tell Aunt Farida to bring two portions tomorrow.

I hesitate.

He knows it's Saturday tomorrow. I don't have an office. And therefore, I can't find a reason to bail out.

Me: sure! See you tomorrow. Bon appetite!

His reply is quick.

Shourya: can't wait!

I close my phone and finally look up from my lap, finding Niharika's gaze drilling into me. Clearing my throat, I put the phone next to my plate and resume eating.

"What was that about?" Rudra questions as we enter our bedroom.

"What?" I glance over my shoulder.

"With you and Niharika." He mutters, automatically gravitating towards his desk. I narrow my eyes at him through the glasses. He quickly extracts himself from the chair and pushes it back in its place. "She was eyeing you weirdly."

"Weirdly?" I take his hand and bring him to bed.

He hums, climbing the bed and drawing me over his lap. "I felt them."

"What?" I play with the end of his unruly strands.

"The bad vibes you talked about? She gave me those bad vibes tonight." He nods.

I chuckle and kiss away the pout of concentration from his lips.

"Yara, keep an eye on her." Rudra tells the glasses.

They glow blue around the edges for a fleeting second. I go to put them off when he stops me. "You look hot." He cuffs my wrists on the back. "And he needs to learn me."

I snort. "Are we fucking or not?"

"Are you in the mindset to be fucked? I can't be losing you to another dimension again," he jests.

I punch him on the bicep and rest my cheek on his shoulder. "Then cuddle me, Mr. Rawal."

"Aapka hukum sar aankhon pe, Mrs. Rawal."

I hide my blush in the crook of his neck.

Saturday evening, I pack my stuff for the overnight stay at the farmhouse and kiss Rudra goodbye. He doesn't look happy, but he knows he doesn't really have a choice other than to let me go.

"I'll miss you,"

He nods with a soft smile. "I'll miss you too."

Giving him the last hug, I pull away and get into my car, driving out of the palace premises. Once I touch the main road, I fiddle around with the music system and connect my Spotify with the car, putting the playlist on shuffle as I groove in my seat to the upbeat music. The drive is long, so the songs keep me company.

"Mrs. Rawal,"

I startle. "Jesus!" my hand flies to the earbud in my right ear and I tell myself it's just my husband's creepy AI.

"What is it?" I ask in annoyance.

"Someone's following you."

I whip my head over my shoulder, and true to his words, I notice a car right behind me.

"How did you know?" I ask in disbelief.

"As per your gps tracker, there was supposed to be zero traffic on this road. I'm keeping a surveillance of cars in the radius of hundred metres around you and the registered number 22 BH 2312 AA has been following you for the last one and half hours."

"Is that legal?"

"Stalking? No."

"No, I mean knowing how many cars are in the vicinity along with their registered numbers and owners?"

"Still no."

"Well, considering you've already committed the crime, tell me who the car belongs to?"

"Niharika Arvind Chandra."

Well, shit.

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