An Arranged Marriage

The Reluctant Prince

Kartik Poddar leaned back in his leather chair, the city of Ahmedabad sprawled out through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. His reflection in the glass showed the same thing it always did—a tall, imposing figure in a tailored suit, his sharp jawline, and slicked-back hair giving him the look of a man who owned the world. And, to a large extent, he did. Or at least, he would soon.

But not without a price.

The words from his father, Raghav Poddar, still echoed in his mind.

“You think you can keep doing what you’ve been doing and inherit this empire? Think again. Your reputation is ruining us, Kartik. You will settle down. You will marry Misha Oberoi, and you will take your place as the head of this family, or the entire business goes to someone who can handle responsibility.”

Kartik’s jaw clenched as he remembered the tone in his father’s voice—cold, unyielding, as if Kartik was a liability instead of the son groomed to take over one of the largest diamond and gold empires in Gujarat. The Poddar name was revered, respected, but it had also come with expectations—expectations Kartik had never quite cared for. Sure, he was ruthless in business, efficient, and calculated. But his personal life? That was his business. Or so he’d thought.

The casual hookups, the endless string of women who threw themselves at him—it was all part of the game. Kartik knew how to charm, how to make people bend to his will. But none of those women had ever mattered. They were distractions, nothing more. He had never been interested in commitment, in the domestic life his parents seemed so hell-bent on forcing upon him now.

Misha Oberoi.

His fiancée. His soon-to-be wife.

Kartik barely knew her, but he had seen her at family events—gorgeous, no doubt. She had that delicate, fair beauty that was admired in traditional circles. Big, expressive eyes, soft lips, and a kind of innocent charm that made her the perfect marriage material in his parents' eyes. And bubbly—she was always smiling, laughing, bringing an easy warmth to any room she entered. People adored her.

He, however, remained indifferent.

She was the kind of woman who would fit the role perfectly—cute, compliant, and traditional. The Poddars and Oberois had been circling each other for years, waiting for the right moment to merge their empires. And now, that moment was here. Their marriage would be the ultimate power move, cementing both families' influence across Gujarat and beyond.

But Kartik couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped. Misha wasn’t the problem. She was, by all accounts, exactly what his parents wanted. She was beautiful, sweet, and ready to be molded into the perfect wife. It was the idea of settling down, of being tied to someone, that gnawed at him. The idea of having to play the role of the loving husband when, in reality, all he cared about was the business.

For a man like Kartik, emotions were a liability. Attachments made you weak, and he had spent his entire life avoiding them. The girls he entertained? They knew the deal—nothing serious, nothing long-term. Kartik didn’t do love. He did control.

Still, the ultimatum from his father had left him no choice. If he wanted the Poddar empire—and the Oberoi fortune that would soon follow—he had to settle down. He had to clean up his reputation, become the man his father expected him to be.

And that meant marrying Misha.

Kartik pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at her contact information. His parents had already begun planning the engagement, but he had barely spoken to her. A few polite conversations at family gatherings, maybe, but nothing more. She probably expected him to call, to say something—anything. But Kartik wasn’t the type to play the doting fiancé. He hadn’t called, and honestly, he didn’t see the point. The marriage was already set in stone. What difference would it make if they spoke now?

He scrolled through his contacts again, pausing for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it onto the desk. Misha would be waiting for a call, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. His mind was racing, thinking of the long line of expectations stretching before him. Misha wasn’t just a girl anymore; she was a responsibility. A part of the business. She would be the face of the Poddar family, standing next to him at every event, every function. She was the kind of woman who would dutifully host parties, raise their children, and smile for the cameras while he focused on expanding the empire.

Could she handle it?

From what he had seen, Misha was naive, sheltered, raised in the bubble of her father’s fashion empire. Did she even know what she was walking into? Did she understand what marrying him really meant?

Kartik smirked. Probably not. But she’d learn. Just like everyone else, she would have to adapt to his world, not the other way around. He wasn’t the kind of man to bend or compromise, not for anyone. Least of all for a wife he hadn’t chosen.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a message from his mother.

“Have you called Misha yet? Don’t keep her waiting, Kartik. This is important.”

Important. Of course. For them, it was all about the business, the legacy. But for him? It was about power. About keeping control over everything. And soon, Misha would be part of that control, just like the rest of his life.

He glanced out the window again, the city lights shimmering beneath him. Misha might be bubbly, sweet, and innocent now. But once she was his, she would play her role exactly as he needed her to.

Kartik stood up, adjusting his suit jacket, his expression hardening. The Poddar empire was within his grasp, and Misha Oberoi was simply the final piece of the puzzle.

If marriage was the price for power, so be it.

But he would make sure Misha knew her place. In his world, there was no room for weakness.