ANIRUDH

"A night with your wife..."

My hands tightened into fists, the veins in my arms pulsing with raw fury. Bondita, sitting right there beside me, smiling her usual sweet, innocent smile, humming like she didn’t even notice the storm building. How could she? She had no idea what kind of evil walked among us.

But I did.

Before I could process it, my hand was gripping the knife on the table. Cold steel, sharp as hell. In the next instant, I was on him. The knife slammed down, sinking deep into Sudhir’s hand. The thud of metal piercing flesh sent a rush of satisfaction through me, his howl of pain even more so.

“How fucking dare you!” I roared, my voice thick with rage, shaking from the intensity of it.

Sudhir's face went white, his mouth twisted in agony, blood pooling around his hand. It seeped into the crisp white tablecloth, ruining it like the filth he was. His scream pierced through the murmur of the crowd. People gathered around us, eyes wide with shock, but I didn’t give a damn. He deserved every bit of it. He deserved worse.

I leaned in, twisting the knife just enough to make him squirm harder. His face was a mix of shock and terror. “You think you can say shit like that to me?” I spat, my voice low and dangerous. “You think you can disrespect my wife?”

His smug grin was long gone, replaced with panic. He stammered something, maybe a plea, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was him knowing he had crossed a line he could never come back from.

“I told you to meet her, not touch her,” I snarled, my voice dropping into a lethal whisper. “She’s mine. You don’t look at her. You don’t speak to her. And you sure as hell don’t fucking touch her. Understand?”

He nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fear, blood dripping from his hand like he was a broken puppet. Good. Let him suffer.

I twisted the knife one last time before yanking it out, watching with satisfaction as he slumped back in his chair, clutching his wounded hand, face pale and twisted with pain. His wife stood frozen, trembling beside him, too scared to even breathe. But none of it mattered to me.

Sudhir whimpered, weak like a pathetic dog. “You’re lucky we’re in public,” I hissed. “If I ever see you alone, I’ll fucking kill you. Count on it.”

The room went dead silent. Every eye was on us, but I didn’t care. My gaze flickered to Bondita. She was staring at me, wide-eyed, trembling, her smile long gone, replaced with fear. I’d seen that look before. Fear of me. Of what I was capable of.

Good.

I grabbed her hand, pulling her to me, my grip tight. “Let’s go,” I barked, but her body was stiff, trembling. She didn’t move, just kept staring at me like I was the devil.

And maybe, in her eyes, I was. I wasn’t some charming prince, after all. I was the monster. The devil who would burn down the entire fucking world to keep her safe, even from herself.

I didn’t give her a choice. I lifted her off her chair, throwing her over my shoulder. Gasps filled the room as people stared, but I didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them see what happens when someone messes with what’s mine. My little angel might be safe from the rest of the world, but not from me.

Not ever.

As I hoisted her over my shoulders and started walking away, Bondita thrashed and kicked, her small hands beating against my back. "Oh... Hey... what... what are you doing... ke—keep me down..." she slurred, her voice high-pitched, full of confusion and that drunken, hazy innocence that drove me fucking mad.

Her tiny fists hit me, but it was nothing. I barely even felt it. Her attempts to fight back were almost endearing, like a kitten trying to claw its way out of a lion's grip. God, even in this state, she was cute as hell. Her voice, her words, the way she kept struggling—it made something dark and primal flare inside me.

But then, as I passed by the crowd, I remembered—Sudhir. That fucking bastard. He gave her that juice, and it wasn’t alcohol. No, it was something else. Something way worse.

A drug.

My jaw clenched, my grip on her tightening. Fuck. I had to take care of this. Whatever that piece of shit had slipped into her drink, I needed to get it out of her system. Fast.

Not Bondita. Not my little angel.

I kept walking, ignoring the murmurs and stares around us. Her small body kept squirming against me, but all I could think about was getting her somewhere safe, away from all these eyes. Away from the poison that Sudhir had put in her.

I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

Not now. Not ever.

I reached the car, Bondita's small fists weakly hitting my back as she protested in her drunken haze. Her words slurred together, almost incoherent, but I ignored her for now. I carefully set her down, her red dress shifting slightly as I lowered her, revealing more of her bare back. My hands brushed against her skin—soft, warm, and utterly distracting. I paused, my fingers lingering longer than they should have.

Her body pressed into mine for a moment, and I felt her shiver under my touch, but I shook it off, reminding myself of what I needed to do. I opened the passenger door and guided her into the seat, her body swaying unsteadily.

Leaning over her to grab the seatbelt, my hand grazed her waist, then trailed up her exposed spine. Her back arched slightly under my touch, and for a second, I felt the heat of her skin against my palm. She was so close, so warm, and the thin fabric of her dress barely covered anything. I fastened the seatbelt, but the image of her bare back and the feel of her skin stayed with me.

As I straightened up, her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Her wide, dazed eyes blinked up at me, and in a soft, shaky voice, she asked, "A—are you going to kidnap me?"

I froze, her question catching me off guard. Kidnap her? She had no idea who I was or what I was capable of. But instead of reacting to the absurdity, I just said, “No,” my voice low and steady.

She let out a breath, her head dropping back against the seat as if my simple answer had solved all her problems. A sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

Then, just as I was about to pull away, she reached up with both hands, cupping my face in her soft, warm palms. Her fingers traced along my jawline, her touch featherlight, making it impossible to think straight. She leaned closer, her breath brushing against my skin. “Buuutttt... if you're not kidnapping me... then where are you taking me, huhhh?” she whispered, her voice teasing, playful.

I clenched my jaw, her fingers still resting on my face. The innocent, trusting way she looked at me only made it harder to stay focused.

“Home,” I muttered, gripping her wrists and gently pulling her hands away from my face, though I held onto them for a second longer, feeling the softness of her skin. “I’m taking you home.”

She blinked up at me, her eyes glazed, a lazy smile spreading across her face as if my answer was enough. She leaned back in the seat, her hands falling away as her eyes fluttered shut, completely content.

I stood there for a moment, looking at her. She was so fragile, so unaware of what had happened tonight. My hands still tingled with the memory of her skin, and the warmth of her body lingered. But I had to push those thoughts away. She was mine to protect, not something to be tempted by.

With one last glance, I closed the door, circling around the car and getting in. Tonight wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

I start the car, the engine rumbling to life, and shift into gear, glancing at Bondita as we pull away. She leans back against the seat, her head lolling slightly to one side. Her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, yet there's a flicker of curiosity shining through the fog that clouds her mind.

She blinks a few times, staring at me as if she’s trying to piece together who I am, as if I’m a puzzle she’s determined to solve. Then, with a sloppy grin, she asks, “What’s your name?”

I pause for a moment, a bit thrown off by her sudden curiosity. “Anirudh,” I reply plainly, unsure if she’s joking or genuinely trying to grasp the situation.

She squints, her brow furrowing as if she’s deep in thought. “Ani...rudh? Hmm... I like that name. But... what are you doing here?” she slurs, still grinning widely, the expression warm and innocent despite the confusion clouding her mind.

“I’m driving you home,” I say, keeping my voice steady. Inside, though, I feel my frustration boiling. She seems so far gone, and it’s making this whole situation harder to handle.

Her eyes widen as if I’ve just revealed a shocking secret. “Why are you driving me? Who... who are you again?” she asks, her hand reaching out to poke my arm softly, her touch surprisingly innocent, almost childlike.

I clench my jaw but maintain my calm facade. “I already told you,” I say, trying to suppress the irritation creeping into my voice.

Her face twists in confusion, like she’s grappling with my words. “What did you tell me?” she asks, nodding slowly as if she’s processing the revelation for the first time. “Hwwww I know you’re kidnapping me!”

I glance at her, the realization hitting me hard that she’s completely out of it. “I’m not kidnapping you, little angel,” I say firmly, though the nickname makes something inside me stir, something I’d rather ignore.

She tilts her head, her expression softening. “Huh? Angle? Where?”

I sigh, gripping the wheel tighter, trying to keep my composure. “I’m talking to you,” I say, emphasizing the words, hoping to reach through the haze clouding her thoughts.

Her eyes widen, excitement flickering in them. “Meeeeee? Really??? You gave me a nickname? HOW CUTEEEEE!”

With that, she leans closer, her lips brushing against my cheek in a soft kiss, the warmth of her innocent gesture sending a shockwave through me. I’m caught off guard, the unexpected sweetness of the moment rattling me more than I’d like to admit. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, both surprised and unnerved by the way my heart races at her touch.

“Where are we going, Anirudh?” she asks, her voice bright and curious, like a child asking about a fantastical adventure.

I shift my gaze back to the road, trying to focus on the path ahead, willing my heart to settle down. “Home. You’re going home,” I say, hoping that would keep her settled, keep her from spiraling further into whatever state she’s in.

Her expression shifts to one of mock seriousness, and she leans back in her seat, crossing her arms dramatically. “But you didn’t tell me who you really are! What if you’re a bad guy?”

I let out a humorless chuckle, shaking my head slightly. “What if I'm a bad guy? What will you do? Huh?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, challenging her playfully, though I know I’m not the hero in this story.

She pouts, her lower lip sticking out adorably. “But you seem nice, even if you are kidnapping me.”

I can’t help but snort. “I’m not kidnapping you,” I reiterate, feeling the absurdity of the conversation wash over me. I’m not nice. I’m not a good guy.

Her giggles fill the car, lightening the air, and for a moment, I let myself believe that everything would be okay. But deep down, I know this is just the calm before the storm, and I can’t shake off the feeling that I need to protect her from more than just the immediate danger.

However, the moment is interrupted by a long silence. I glance over at Bondita again, and my eyes widen in shock at the sight before me. Her hands are resting on her breasts, squeezing them as if checking to see if they’re still there. What the hell is she doing?

“Bondita!” I bark, my voice sharper than I intended. She jumps, her hands falling to her lap as her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, the embarrassment washing over her like a wave.

“What?” she asks innocently, her eyes wide and bewildered, as if she genuinely doesn’t understand what she’s done.

“Why the hell are you Doing...?” I start, but the words die in my throat. She’s completely out of it, and I’m torn between amusement and disbelief.

“Heyy, Mr. Kidnapper, can't you give a girl a private moment, huh?” she replies, a shy grin spreading across her face, her naivety both endearing and exasperating.

“First, I’m not kidnapping you. And don’t do it,” I begin, trying to regain control over the situation, but the absurdity of her statement leaves me momentarily speechless.

“No, no, noooo! I want to touch... I feel something?” she says, her voice filled with need, and I swear, my grip on the steering wheel tightens involuntarily. The heat creeps up my cheeks, and it infuriates me that she has this effect on me.

I glance at her, my mind racing. It hits me then—the drink she had. The way she’s acting, it’s not just the alcohol; it’s something more. But I don’t want to worry her. “Bondita, just relax, okay?” I say, my voice firm yet calm. “Don’t do anything.”

Her brows furrow in confusion, but there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “Relax? What does that even mean? I feel... funny!” she laughs, swaying slightly in her seat, her carefree demeanor making it hard to focus.

“Just... breathe,” I say, keeping my tone steady, even as my heart races. I can’t let her know how much this is affecting me. The last thing I need is for her to feel scared or overwhelmed.

“Breathe?” she echoes, her expression dramatic as she leans back in the seat, letting out a loud puff of air. “Okay, I’m breathing!” she giggles, clearly enjoying the game.

“Yeah, but do it quietly,” I reply, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. The last thing I want is for her to draw attention to us.

She pouts playfully, crossing her arms. “You’re no fun! Why so serious, Anirudh?”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. “Because it’s my job to make sure you’re safe, Bondita. You have no idea what you’re getting into,” I say, the weight of my words settling heavily in the car.

“Safe? With you?” she giggles again, leaning closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re my kidnapper! What kind of safe is that?”

I can’t help but let out a frustrated chuckle. “I told you, I’m not kidnapping you. Just try to relax, alright?”

She leans back again, her playful demeanor never wavering. “Relax? How can I relax when I’m in a car with a kidnapper?” she teases, and I can see the humor dancing in her eyes.

I keep quiet, knowing that any further conversation would only lead to more of her playful banter. As the minutes pass, we arrive home, and Bondita is still smiling and talking to herself, lost in her own world. I get out of the car, open her door, and unbuckle her seatbelt, saying, “Come out, we’re home.”

She scrunches her face, shaking her head defiantly. “No way! I’m not going anywhere with a kidnapping guy!” Her tone is teasing, but there’s a stubbornness behind it that I find amusing.

I raise an eyebrow, leaning closer. “If you don’t get out yourself, I’ll just carry you away,” I threaten, trying to sound stern.

She pouts, her expression a mix of defiance and playfulness, and finally steps outside, though she’s still shaking slightly. “Fine! But I’m not happy about it!”

I reach out to take her hand, ready to guide her inside, but she pulls away and sticks her tongue out at me, making a ridiculous baby face. “You’re a bastard! You can’t just kidnap people and expect them to be nice to you, jerk!”

The unexpected insults hit me like a punch to the gut. I’m a mafia boss, accustomed to being treated with respect and fear, and yet here she is, throwing words like 'bastard' and 'jerk' at me without a second thought.

“What did you just call me?” I ask, momentarily stunned, my brow furrowing in disbelief.

She smirks, stepping closer and poking her finger into my chest with each word. “What are you gonna do about it, huh? You think you can just haul me around like this and get away with it? You’re nothing but a stupid jerk!”

Her finger presses harder against my chest, a mix of challenge and bravado. The audacity she has, confronting me like this, is infuriating and oddly thrilling. No one has ever dared to push me like this.

“Are you really going to test me, Bondita?” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite the surge of emotions welling up inside me. The fire in her eyes is both intriguing and dangerous.

She tilts her head, her confidence unwavering. “What if I am? You’re not so scary, are you? Just a big, dumb jerk!”

I stand there, caught off guard by her fearless taunting. Did she really just call me a 'big, dumb jerk?'

For a moment, I can’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and admiration. This little angel, in all her drunken bravado, is challenging everything I stand for, and yet it’s hard not to be entertained by her antics.

“Let’s get inside,” I finally say, amusement creeping into my tone despite myself. I can’t let her know how much she’s getting under my skin, but I’m intrigued by this new side of her.

She crosses her arms defiantly, still standing her ground. “Only if you promise not to kidnap me again!”

“Deal,” I reply, unable to suppress a grin as I follow her inside. This isn’t how I expected the night to go, but I know one thing for sure: I’m not letting her out of my sight.

Bondita, still swaying slightly from the effects of whatever was in her drink, moves ahead of me quickly, her steps unsteady but determined. I watch her as she hurries down the hallway, her mind clearly elsewhere. Before I can catch up, she bumps straight into someone—Yash.

That fucking bastard.

Yash reacts quickly, his hands grabbing her waist to steady her before she can fall. My eyes narrow, my fists clenching at the sight of his hands on her. Rage bubbles inside me as I take a step forward, ready to rip his hands away from her. But before I can say a word, Bondita does something that makes me stop in my tracks.

She pushes Yash away with surprising force, her eyes flaring with anger. Without a second thought, she raises her hand and slaps him hard across the face. The sound of the slap echoes in the hallway, and Yash stumbles back, shocked and holding his cheek.

“How dare you touch me!” Bondita snaps, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll cut those fingers of yours!” Her words are sharp, full of venom, and for a moment, I feel a surge of pride rush through me.

Damn.

The way she stands, fierce and unafraid, is a sight to behold. I can't help but smirk, recognizing my own words in her threat. She’s tough, tougher than I realized. There’s no hesitation in her voice, no fear in her eyes as she faces Yash. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and seeing her like this makes me feel something close to admiration.

Bondita’s words hit Yash like a sledgehammer, her slurred yet cutting tone leaving no room for recovery. He stands there, frozen in shock, his hand still on his cheek from the slap, while her unfiltered tirade continues to spill out.

"You fucking little… fucking fuck," she snarls, her voice rising, and for a second, I’m too stunned to react.

Did she just say that? I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. I can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t entertained.

Yash’s face turns red with embarrassment, his mouth slightly agape as he stammers, "Bondu—"

“Don’t you call me Bondu!” she cuts him off, her voice sharper than ever. “You lost that right when you cheated on me. And let’s not forget—you know I was with you even when you had a very, very small dick.”

I almost lose my composure right there, my eyes widening as I struggle not to react. She’s not holding back at all, and her brutal honesty leaves me torn between rage and pride. I hate that this fucker Yash had ever touched her, had ever been close enough to her to even think about her like that. But the fact that she’s tearing him down right in front of me? God, it’s impressive.

Then, as if to seal the moment, Bondita turns toward me and grabs my hand, her eyes wide and innocent as she looks up at me. "Mr. Kidnapper," she says with absolute seriousness, “you know, once he sent me a pic of his dick, and I swear it was the world’s smallest dick!”

I blink, utterly dumbfounded. The absurdity of the situation almost makes me angry that Yash would dare to do something like that to her—but at the same time, seeing her stand up for herself like this, even in her intoxicated state, fills me with pride. She’s a firecracker, that’s for sure.

Yash, utterly humiliated, can’t even find the words to respond. He just stands there, his face twisted in a mixture of shame and rage. I, on the other hand, give him a cold stare, daring him to say anything more. He knows better. He doesn’t want to face me.

I guide her to our room, her small hand still wrapped around mine. She’s nodding like a little kid, still smiling as if the chaos back there never happened. I don’t say a word as we walk through the halls, my mind too busy replaying what just went down with Yash. The way she slapped him, stood up for herself—I can’t help but feel proud. But now, I need to get her out of this mess, away from everything, back to where I can keep her safe.

I unlock the door and push it open, pulling her inside before locking it behind us. The soft click of the lock is like a weight lifting off my shoulders. Finally, we’re alone, away from prying eyes.

Bondita immediately starts looking around the room like it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. Her eyes are wide, filled with that drunken curiosity again. She’s spinning slowly, taking in the bed, the wardrobe, the window, like she’s in some kind of dream.

I stand near the door, arms crossed, just watching her. It’s almost amusing, the way she’s acting—so lost in her own world, completely unaware of how much trouble she just avoided. But there’s a softness in her, too, that I can't ignore.

"Bondita," I call out, my voice calm but firm, trying to get her to focus. "You need to rest."

She doesn’t listen. She’s too busy wandering around the room, her fingers brushing the edges of the furniture, her gaze flitting from one thing to another. She looks like she’s trying to figure something out, but I know it’s just the drug messing with her head.

I let out a quiet sigh, leaning back against the door. She’s unpredictable like this—one moment fierce, the next completely lost. It’s almost impossible to keep up. But as I watch her, I feel something stir inside me. She’s more than I thought she was—strong, brave, even in this ridiculous state.

But now, she needs me to take control, to protect her from herself.

Bondita keeps wandering around the room, her fingers grazing over the surfaces as if she’s seeing everything for the first time. I’m still leaning against the door, watching her like a hawk, but also trying to figure out what the hell is going through her head.

Suddenly, she stops by the wardrobe and turns to face me, her eyes narrowing. “Mr. Kidnapper,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, “why is your room so boring? There’s nothing fun here!”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s for sleeping.”

She pouts dramatically, her lips pushing out in a way that would be almost irresistible if she weren’t so out of it. “But I don’t want to sleep. I want to... I don’t know. Do something!” She taps her chin, as if deep in thought, then her eyes light up with an idea.

Before I can react, she comes over and grabs my shirt, tugging me away from the door. “Come on, Mr. Serious,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Let’s dance!”

“Dance?” I blink, confused. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” She giggles, pulling harder, almost making me lose my balance. “You’re my kidnapper, right? At least make it fun!”

I sigh, knowing I’m not going to win this argument. “Fine. One dance.”

Her face lights up as if I’ve just agreed to some grand adventure. She twirls around in an exaggerated circle, her movements clumsy and adorable. I reach out, grabbing her arm to steady her before she trips over her own feet.

But as soon as my hand touches her, she stops and looks up at me, her wide, innocent eyes locking onto mine. “Hey...” she whispers, her voice softer now, “why do you always take care of me, huh?”

I don’t answer immediately. Her question catches me off guard. I’m not used to this side of her—vulnerable, curious, and oddly perceptive.

“Because,” I say, my voice low, “someone has to.”

She stares at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down until our foreheads almost touch.

“You’re not as scary as you pretend to be, you know,” she whispers

.She’s so close, too close. “Bondita—”

“Shh,” she cuts me off, leaning back just enough to look me in the eyes. Her hands slide down to rest on my chest, her touch light but enough to make my pulse race. “For a kidnapper, you’re kind of sweet.”

And then, before I can stop her, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a soft, fleeting kiss to my jawline. It’s innocent and playful, but it sends a rush of warmth through me that I wasn’t expecting.

As Bondita pulls me toward the center of the room, giggling and swaying, I try to maintain control. Her drunken state is making this harder than it needs to be, and my patience is wearing thin. "What exactly are you trying to do, Bondita?" My voice is low, commanding.

She looks up at me with that mischievous glint in her eyes, still smirking. “I told you, Mr. Kidnapper, we’re dancing!” Her hands grip the front of my shirt, tugging me closer as she sways her body to an imaginary rhythm. “Come on, loosen up! You’re always so stiff.”

I grab her wrists gently, stopping her. “You’re drunk, Bondita. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

She ignores me, sliding her hands up to my chest. “So what? You’re always so in control. What if I want to have some fun?” Her fingers press against me, and I feel the heat rising inside, the tension building between us.

I lean in slightly, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

Her grin only widens, a mix of playfulness and boldness. She steps closer, her body brushing against mine, and it takes every ounce of control not to react. “What if I do know?” she whispers back, her lips hovering just above my jawline. Then, before I can stop her, she leans up and presses her lips to my skin, a soft, teasing kiss along my jaw.

Fuck.

The sensation of her lips sends a jolt through me, my entire body stiffening as I grip her wrists tighter, pulling her back gently but firmly. “Enough,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

She blinks up at me, slightly confused but still daring. “But I do know,” she murmurs, her voice low and filled with desire. She moves in again, pressing herself against me as her fingers trace my chest. “You’re... you’re good to me,” she mumbles, her words slurred, her face inches from mine.

I pull her back, keeping my grip firm. “No,” I say, my tone more serious. “You need to stop.”

She pouts, her lips inches away, and for a moment, she looks almost vulnerable. But then she smiles again, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Or what?” she challenges, her voice soft and sultry.

I clench my jaw, knowing I need to stay in control. My grip tightens just slightly on her arms, and I lean down close to her ear, my breath warm against her skin. “Or I’ll carry you to bed myself and make sure you don’t move until you sober up.”

Her eyes widen at my words, the seriousness sinking in for just a moment. But then she bites her lower lip, her fingers brushing against my chest again as she sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine, Mr. Serious.”

I release her wrists, stepping back to give us both some space. She stumbles slightly but catches herself, still smiling that infuriating, playful smile. “You’re no fun,” she teases, poking my chest as if trying to provoke me.

I smirk, unable to help it this time. I lean back in close, my voice rough but laced with amusement. “Fun isn’t what you need from me right now, Bondita. You need someone to keep you in line.”

She blinks up at me, surprised, and for a second, I see a flicker of understanding. But just as quickly, the mischievous smile returns to her lips. “Maybe... maybe I like it when you’re in control,” she whispers, her voice softer, almost inviting.

I can’t help but s

mirk. My little angel has no idea who she’s teasing—once I take control, she’ll never escape me.

TO BE CONTINUED