Page 36 of Mrs. Rathore

It wasn’t lost on me how much Aryan resembled him. They both carried that same quiet intensity, the aura of born warriors. And while I admired their courage, I still couldn’t bring myself to like them.

No matter how handsome Aryan was, no matter how many medals hung on his chest, to me, he was a jerk. I glanced at my injured leg and smirked to myself. Yes, a jerk. And I won’t let him live in peace.

Later, Rhea brought me to my room and pulled out a silky pink nightdress with a grin. “I bought this for you!”

I stared at it in disbelief. “Are you serious? That thing looks like it belongs to a five-year-old!”

She burst into laughter but quickly composed herself. “I’m not joking, Bhabhi.” She unfurled the garment, revealing a spaghetti-strap nightgown that would cling to every inch of my body.

I gaped. “Rhea, this is practically a second skin. I’ve never worn anything like this.”

“I’m not saying you have to. But it’s either this, or you sleep in your heavy saree. Or,” she added with a teasing smirk, “you could always borrow one of Bhai’s shirts.”

I looked down at the nightgown, then at the saree that was already suffocating me. Aryan and I didn’t even share a room so what harm could it do?

With a deep sigh, I grabbed the dress and muttered, “This doesn’t mean I like it. I’ll manage for tonight, but you better getme a different nightgown tomorrow.” I took the silky thing from Rhea as she nodded. Then, gently and patiently, she helped me out of my jewelry and saree.

Once I slipped into the nightgown, I caught my reflection in the mirror and blushed. Rhea smiled, her eyes soft with affection. She truly was a sweet girl. I never expected to feel this kind of bond so quickly.

I reached out and kissed her on the forehead, surprising even myself.

“I used to do that to my little brother every night before bed,” I said softly. “Now that I have you, I think I might start doing it with you… if that’s okay.”

She hugged me tightly, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “Nobody has time for me, but you do, Bhabhi.”

I gently ran my fingers through her hair. “Now go get some rest. You’ve been my caretaker all day.”

She gave me a sleepy grin before walking away, leaving me alone in the soft glow of the room.

I gripped my clutches and turned toward the mirror again, frowning at the sight.

“God,” I whispered. “This nightdress is too revealing.”

Still, I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in that heavy saree. I sighed and lay down, my body finally relaxing into the mattress. I reached out to turn off the light…

But the door slammed open.

My breath caught.

Aryan strode inside like a storm sharp, sudden, uninvited. He froze when he saw me, and his eyes swept over my body. My hands scrambled for the blanket as I yanked it over myself like I was completely naked.

Without a word, he turned and locked the door.

“Are you… sleeping here?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“Where else would I sleep?” he replied coolly, pulling off his shirt in one swift motion.

No. Please, no.

He changed into a pair of trousers and walked to the other side of the bed. His eyes lingered on the empty space beside me before he climbed in like he owned it and me.

Of course, he owned his bed.

“You seemed cozy next to me the whole day,” he muttered with a mocking smirk, leaning dangerously close.

My breath hitched. He was shirtless. In my bed. No, his bed.

I looked down at his muscular body, broad shoulders tapering into a sculpted chest that moved with every breath, like tension coiled beneath smooth skin. His abs were sharply defined, each ridge casting shadows in the soft light. Veins traced the length of his arms, pulsing with restrained power.