The Dress
755 Words
The next morning dawned grey and cold, a perfect match for the dread in Shanaya’s chest.
She woke in a bedroom she hadn’t chosen, in a bed that smelled faintly of Lakshya’s cologne. The expensive sheets felt like silk shackles.
She hadn’t seen him since the engagement dinner, but she knew he was somewhere nearby—watching her life transform into something unrecognizable.
When she rose and pushed aside the heavy curtains, the skyline loomed through the glass. For the first time, she felt truly trapped.
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A soft knock broke the silence.
Ananya stepped inside, wearing her immaculate navy suit and a polite, carefully neutral expression.
“Good morning, Miss Sharma.”
Shanaya turned, crossing her arms. “It’s not a good morning.”
Ananya hesitated. “I’m here to help you prepare. Mr. Malhotra has arranged for a designer to bring wedding gowns.”
Shanaya’s stomach clenched. “Already?”
“He prefers not to wait,” Ananya said gently, almost apologetic.
“He prefers to control everything,” Shanaya muttered.
Ananya didn’t deny it.
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A few hours later, the suite filled with delicate lace and shimmering fabric. Three seamstresses hovered with measuring tapes and pins.
Shanaya stood on a low platform, her body stiff as they draped gown after gown across her shoulders.
She tried to imagine herself walking down an aisle toward Lakshya. Tried to imagine looking into his dark, unyielding eyes and vowing herself to him in front of the world.
Her throat closed.
“Miss?” One of the women touched her elbow. “Perhaps this one? It suits your coloring.”
The dress was ivory satin, its bodice embroidered with tiny pearls. She looked at herself in the mirror—and didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
She looked like a bride.
A bride with no choice.
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The door swung open without warning. The seamstresses fell silent.
Lakshya stepped inside, dressed in a charcoal suit that set off his broad shoulders and ruthless air of authority. His gaze landed on her—and didn’t move.
“Leave us,” he said quietly.
The designers hurried out, shutting the door behind them.
She turned to face him, fighting the urge to cover herself even though she was fully dressed.
“Do you enjoy humiliating me?” she demanded, her voice shaking.
He walked closer, his eyes locked on hers. “You look exquisite.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t want to humiliate you.” His voice lowered. “I want to own you so completely you forget you were ever free.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Why?”
“Because I can’t let you go.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back, her hands clenched at her sides.
“This isn’t love,” she whispered.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s possession.”
His honesty terrified her more than any lie.
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He moved behind her, close enough that she felt the heat of him against her back. His hand came up, sliding over the curve of her waist in a slow, proprietary caress.
“You’ll wear this dress,” he murmured against her ear. “You’ll walk to me. And when you say ‘I do,’ you’ll do it knowing you’re surrendering everything.”
“I won’t mean it,” she choked out.
His hand curved around her throat—not squeezing, just reminding her of his strength. His power.
“You will,” he breathed. “Because you already do.”
Her eyes burned. “I hate you.”
“You hate that you want me.”
She shut her eyes, hating that a part of her thrilled to his touch.
“Lakshya…please.”
His mouth brushed her temple, sending a shiver all the way to her toes.
“I’m going to make you mine in every way,” he promised. “And one day, you’ll stop fighting it.”
He stepped back, leaving her cold and shaking.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said softly.
Then he turned and walked out, as if he hadn’t just shattered her defenses all over again.
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When the door closed, Shanaya looked back at her reflection.
The woman in the mirror was no longer an MBA student. No longer a dreamer.
She was a bride.
His bride.
And there was no way out.
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⚠️ Content Warning:
This novel contains mature themes, possessive relationships, and dark romance intended for readers 18+. Reader discretion advised.
- Writer
