His forbidden queen

Chapter 6

The rain didn’t just fall; it blindsided the rolling hills of Rajasthan.

What had started as a routine, albeit elite, material sourcing trip to a remote quarry known

for its rare, deep-green forest marble had devolved into a logistical nightmare. The late-

summer monsoon had arrived a week early, turning the narrow, winding mountain roads

into treacherous rivers of mud.

Inside the plush leather interior of Trinay’s luxury SUV, the atmosphere was suffocatingly

quiet.

Raya stared out the window, watching the heavy sheets of water blur the passing thorny

acacia trees. She had spent the last three hours trying to maintain her professional

distance, but the universe seemed determined to mock her. First, the engine of her own

vehicle had choked on a flooded ditch miles back, forcing her to climb into the backseat of

Trinay’s car.

Now, the roads back to the main highway were officially blocked by a minor landslide.

“The bridge at the base of the valley is flooded, sir,” the driver announced, his voice tight

with anxiety as he peered through the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers. “We

can’t go forward, and turning back to the quarry is too dangerous with the mudslides.”

Trinay, who had been quietly reviewing corporate files on his tablet, didn’t panic. He

looked out the window, his expression impassive, before looking at the GPS map.

“There’s an old Rajwansh property about three kilometers from here,” Trinay said, his deep

baritone cutting through the sound of the storm. “An ancestral hunting manor we haven’t

fully restored yet. Head there. We’ll wait out the storm tonight.”

Raya’s head snapped toward him. “Tonight? Trinay, we can’t stay overnight in the middle of

nowhere. I have a firm to run. I have digital design reviews scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“And you won’t live to attend any of them if this SUV slips off a cliff, Raya,” Trinay replied

calmly, turning his dark eyes to meet her sharp gaze. “For once in your life, accept a

situation you cannot control.”

The ancestral manor, The Rajwansh Niwas, loomed out of the downpour like a gothic

fortress made of dark, weathered sandstone. It was vast, silent, and entirely empty except

for a skeletal staff of caretakers who looked utterly shocked to see their billionaire

employer arrive unannounced in the middle of a monsoon.

By the time they made it inside the grand entry hall, the power was completely dead.

A lone, elderly caretaker hurried around, lighting thick wax candles that cast long, dancing

shadows across the high, exposed-beam ceilings and dusty tapestries. The air smelled of

old paper, rain-soaked earth, and aged cedarwood.

“The main guest wings are closed and covered in sheets, Rajwansh-ji,” the caretaker

apologized profusely, bowing low. “The only room currently clean and dry with a working

fireplace is the master study suite on the first floor.”

Raya froze, a dry towel clutched in her hand as she dried her damp hair. “One room?”

“It has a separate sitting area and a large divan, Ms. Singhaniya,” Trinay said, dismissing the

caretaker with a wave of his hand. He unbuttoned his damp charcoal jacket, tossing it over

a dust-sheeted chair. “Unless you prefer to sleep in the hallway with the scorpions, I

suggest we share.”

Raya swallowed hard, her heart doing a nervous flutter against her ribs that she fiercely

suppressed. She followed him up the grand stone staircase, the flickering candlelight

making the ancient portraits on the walls look like they were watching her every move.

The master study was massive, dominated by a roaring stone fireplace that the caretaker

had quickly lit. A heavy mahogany desk sat in the corner, and a massive, plush velvet sofa

rested near the hearth, opposite a grand four-poster bed draped in dark silk.

As the caretaker left, shutting the heavy wooden door behind them, the absolute isolation

of the place settled over them. The roaring storm outside seemed miles away, muffled by

the thick stone walls.

Raya walked straight to the fireplace, holding her shivering hands out toward the heat.

Without her usual tailored blazers and high heels—currently wearing a simple, slightly

damp oversized sweater and trousers—she felt stripped of her armor.

Trinay walked over to a crystal decanter resting on a side table. He poured two glasses of

amber liquid and walked over, extending one toward her.

“Brandy,” he said softly. “It will stop the shivering.”

Raya hesitated, then took the glass, her fingers briefly brushing against his. The sudden

spark of heat from his skin was more intense than the fire. She took a slow sip, feeling the

liquid burn a warm path down her throat.

“Thank you,” she muttered, staring into the flames. “And… thank you for what you did at

the gala last week. With Kabir.”

Trinay leaned against the stone mantelpiece, swirling his drink. He watched the firelight

dance across the sharp, beautiful angles of her face. “You don’t need to thank me. I meant

what I said. But I am curious.” He paused, his gaze dropping to her tightly gripped glass.

“Who was he to you?”

Raya closed her eyes, the old bitterness rushing back. For years, she had hidden this story, terrified that the corporate world would see her as weak. But in this dark, isolated room, looking at the man who had stood like a shield for her, the wall came down.

“He was my fiancé,” Raya said, her voice a quiet, fragile whisper. “Six years ago, we started

a small design firm together. I trusted him with everything. My heart, my concepts, my

blueprints. One night, I found out he had legally patented my entire portfolio under his own

name. When I confronted him, he laughed. He told me I was nothing but a pretty face, that

no one would ever believe a twenty-year-old girl over him. He ruined my reputation before

I could even build it.”

She looked up at Trinay, her hazel eyes flashing with a raw, ancient pain. “He left me in a

room full of self-doubt. It took me three years of absolute hell to build Singhaniya Designs

from nothing. So when I see men of power, Mr. Rajwansh… I don’t see partners. I see a

threat.”

Trinay didn’t speak for a long moment. He set his glass down on the mantelpiece. When he

stepped toward her, the sheer gravity of his presence made her breath catch.

He didn’t reach out to dominate her. Instead, he stopped just inches away, his dark eyes

burning with an intense, fierce sincerity.

“Look at me, Raya,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, velvet register.

Slowly, she raised her head.

“Kabir Mehra is a thief who hid behind your brilliance because he lacked his own,” Trinay

said, his voice absolute and unwavering. “But do not insult me by comparing me to a

coward like him. I don’t want to steal your vision, Raya. And I damn sure don’t want to

diminish you.”

He reached out, his large, warm hand gently cupping the side of her jaw. His thumb

brushed softly against her cheekbone, a gesture so unexpectedly tender it made her heart

violently stutter.

“I doubled your fee because you are the first person in five years who looked at my empire

and wasn’t afraid to demand more from me,” Trinay whispered, leaning down slightly, his

breath warm against her lips. “I don’t want a possession, Raya. I want an equal.”

Raya’s hand reached up, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. She meant to pull his hand

away, to re-establish her boundaries. But as she looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but

absolute respect and a roaring, unsaid desire, her grip loosened.

The storm outside howled, shaking the ancient windows, but inside the golden glow of the

fire, the distance between the rival billionaires completely dissolved.

To be continued.......