A Devil Love Story

Chapter 4

The atmosphere in the mansion had changed since the night at the hospital. Arnav was colder than ever, avoiding Diya's eyes whenever they crossed paths in the long, silent hallways. But a week later, everything changed with a single black envelope placed on Diya’s breakfast table.

"You are coming with me to the Charity Gala tonight," Arnav said, his voice dropping like a stone in the quiet room. He was already dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, looking every bit the ruthless tycoon.

"But I don't have anything to wear... and I don't know how to act in front of people like you," Diya replied, her heart fluttering.

"Everything you need is in your room. Be ready by 7:00 PM. And remember, Diya, you are there to play a role. You are my personal assistant, nothing more. Keep your eyes down and your mouth shut."

At exactly seven, Diya stepped out of her room. She was wearing a stunning emerald green gown that flowed like water. Her hair was tied in a sophisticated bun, and her skin glowed under the chandelier lights. When Arnav saw her at the bottom of the stairs, he froze. For a split second, the coldness in his eyes was replaced by something else—admiration, perhaps, or even desire. But he quickly masked it.

"Don't get used to the dress," he muttered, grabbing his car keys.

The gala was held at a magnificent hotel. As they entered, every head turned. The whispers started immediately. "Is that the Devil’s new toy?" someone sneered. Diya felt small, but Arnav’s hand firmly gripped her waist, pulling her closer. It was a possessive gesture that made her feel both safe and terrified.

As the night progressed, a man approached them. He was older, with a cruel smile that matched Arnav’s in intensity. "Ah, Arnav. I see you’ve found a new shadow. Let’s hope this one lasts longer than the last one."

Arnav’s jaw tightened. Diya felt the muscles in his arm turn to steel. "Mind your own business, Mr. Mehra. My shadows are none of your concern."

The man laughed, his eyes landing on Diya. "Be careful, little girl. Playing with fire is fun until you realize you’re the one being burned."

Later that night, when they were momentarily alone on the balcony, Diya saw Arnav drinking his whiskey in one gulp. He looked exhausted, the weight of a thousand secrets on his shoulders.

"Who was that man?" Diya asked softly.

Arnav looked at her, the moonlight highlighting the scars of his past. "He is the reason I became the Devil, Diya. He took everything from me. And now, he wants to take you just to hurt me."

Diya realized then that she wasn't just an investment. She was a weapon in a war she didn't understand. And for the first time, she felt a strange urge to protect the man who was holding her prisoner.

The ride back from the gala was cold, but the silence inside the car was even colder. Arnav’s hands were gripped so tightly around the steering wheel that his veins were popping. Diya kept looking at him from the corner of her eye. The mention of 'the previous one' by Mr. Mehra was still ringing in her ears. Who was she? And what happened to her?

Suddenly, Arnav slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the asphalt as the car skidded to a halt in the middle of a deserted road.

"Get out," Arnav said, his voice low and dangerous.

"What? Arnav, it's the middle of the night! What are you doing?" Diya asked, her heart racing with fear.

"I said, get out of the car, Diya!" he roared, turning toward her. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a mixture of rage and something that looked like pure agony.

Trembling, Diya stepped out into the chilly night air. The road was surrounded by thick woods, the only light coming from the moon and the car’s headlights. Arnav got out and walked toward her, stopping just inches away.

"Mr. Mehra didn't just talk to you to be polite," Arnav hissed. "He put a tracker on your gown. He wants to know where I keep you. He wants to find my weakness."

Before Diya could react, Arnav reached out and ripped a small, metallic chip from the hem of her emerald gown. He crushed it under his boot.

"Is that all I am to you? A weakness? A target?" Diya cried out, the frustration of the entire week finally breaking through. "You treat me like a prisoner, you threaten my father, and then you act like you're protecting me. Which one is it, Arnav? Are you the Devil or are you my savior?"

Arnav grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close. His breath was hot against her skin. "I am neither, Diya! I am a man who has lost everything, and I won't let that old snake take one more thing from me. Do you understand? You signed that contract. You are under my protection, whether you like it or not."

Suddenly, a black SUV sped toward them, its high beams blinding them. Arnav pushed Diya behind him, reaching into his jacket for something. Two men stepped out of the SUV, holding crowbars.

"Mr. Mehra sends his regards, Singhania," one of them sneered.

Arnav didn't hesitate. He moved like a shadow—fast, precise, and brutal. Within seconds, he had disarmed both men, his movements showing a level of training that terrified Diya. He didn't just fight them; he broke them. When he was done, the two men were groaning on the ground, and Arnav was standing over them, his face splattered with a drop of blood.

He turned back to Diya, who was trembling against the car. The moonlight made him look like a dark god of war. He walked toward her, his expression softening for a fraction of a second when he saw her tears.

"Get in the car," he said, his voice surprisingly calm now. "The game has just become much more dangerous, and from now on, you don't leave my sight for even a second."