Shravani's POV

"You have made the biggest mistake of your life, Mrs. Shravani Jaiveer Singh Rathore. Welcome to hell now."

His words rang in my ear like a broken record; his tone was too dangerous, too deep, and I freaking released the mistake I made. But it's too late; what's done is done, and no one could change it. I am his wife now. His, as much as he is mine.

As I sat inside his Rolls Royce with him, after all the crying sessions, I still remember how Dad said that if Jaiveer behaves like an ass with me, all I need to do is to shoot him and he will handle everything. Wiping the tears that rolled down my cheeks, I turned to look at him through my veil.

The Monster.

My Monster.

He is totally engrossed in his phone, ignoring my existence as the driver drove towards the way of Rathore Mansion. What's so fucking special about this man that I am head over heels for him? Jaiveer Singh Rathore is an unfeeling monster, and my days in his hell have started already.

"Sir, we have reached." Driver announced.

"Do not come out of the car." Finally, he said something; no, he literally ordered me.

"Ja---" He was already out of the car, slamming the door shut, which actually made me flinch.

My eyes fell on his turban and garlands, which were resting on the seat beside me.

I rolled the window down, being curious because he has been standing in the same place for the last 2 minutes.

Yes, I am actually counting.

"What's wrong with you, Jaiveer?" My ears perked up hearing his dad's voice as he walked out of the mansion screaming, followed by all of his—now our family members.

"Nothing is wrong, Father." His voice was eerily calm.

"Quit creating a scene here and come inside; Shravani has to do a few other post-wedding rituals." Grandmother directed the words to me. "Come out, Shravani,"

I was about to open the door when he looked down at me. "What did I just say? STAY FUCKING INSIDE," he emphasized, placing his hand on the handle.

"We won't be staying here, and neither will I let her perform any other rituals; the marriage is done now," he let out.

Damn, his tone with his family is so rude and shocking. New discovery: I didn't know about it.

"Jaiveer, guests are inside." Father-in-law hissed.

"Oh, and? Are you all scared about your so-called reputation?"

"Jaiveer, watch your tongue; stop creating a scene." his grandfather scolded.

"I am not creating a scene in here, and on top of it I don't care about your so-called reputation, not even a bit, so do whatever the fuck you want. I am leaving for my penthouse with Shravani." Once he was done, he didn't listen to any of their words and got inside the car, ordering the driver to drive to his penthouse.

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What did I expect?

That he would put the container, something full of rice, on the threshold of the door to welcome me inside with a ritual of Grah Pravesh. Oh, I am so delusional. All he did was leave me in the foyer and dash inside and to the kitchen.

Taking a few deep breaths, I made my way inside his gothic penthouse. Black is the color that gives me anxiety. It's rare, but I hate the color black; it's weird, and on top of that, 99 percent of the things present here are black.

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" came his voice when he walked out of the kitchen.

"Where is our bedroom?" I chose to question.

"OUR?" The chuckle that rumbled out of his throat was too dark, too mocking for my liking.

"Did you actually think that we would share a room?" I looked away without answering his mocking interrogations. "Too bad, Mrs. Rathore, you are way too delusional." Can he just stop already?

"Well, Mr. Rathore, not only rooms; I thought we would share everything, like bed, duvet, and---"

"Way too desperate for a cock?" he snapped, interrupting me in between.

"As much as you are desperate for an heir." I snapped back.

"Aahaa, Shravani, this won't work here. Talking back to me under my roof is not allowed." He took intimidating steps towards me, and my breath hitched.

"Let's make a few things clear; we'll sit first, wife." Holding my shoulders, he made me sit on the couch, his dark gaze drilling holes into me.

"Well, congratulations, you always wanted to become my wife. You have left everything to become mine; you deserve an award, but I don't have one to give you now." And the mocking session has just started.

"Anyways, a few things to keep in mind,"

"You are not obliged to go out without my permission,"

Ok, and?

"You are going to cook for me."

Are you suicidal? Then surely.

"Do not talk back with me and wear the outfits that I will choose for you. This marriage meant nothing to me; you are here to give me an heir."

That's it; I am so done.

Getting off from the couch, I pushed him down and took a seat on his lap. "Shravani, I---"

"Ssshhh." I placed my finger on his lips, stopping his good-for-nothing sentences.

"Let me speak now," I started, "So

Mr. Rathore, why do you think that I will agree with all your demands, huh?"

"The thing is we haven't signed any contract before marriage, so you can't force me to be your slave."

"In your language, I will wear the fuck I want, I will do the fuck I want, go out without your fucking permission, talk fucking back if you go overboard, and I am not your fucking slave that I need your permission for any fucking thing." The look on his face was worth watching. He was surely not expecting it.

Oh my dear husband, this is just a start.

"You fucking----" he hissed, stopping his own words.

"Fucking what, bitch? Well yes, your wife is a bad bitch, darling husband." Placing a tight kiss on his cheek, I got off from his lap, looking around the gothic beauty before walking towards the staircase.

I loved Jaiveer Singh Rathore from the time I didn't even know the meaning of love. I could die and kill for him, but him being all tyrannical and expecting me to be his slave is not fucking acceptable.

He has humiliated me enough and now expects me to be a walking puppet of his hands? So fucking wrong.

But hey, surprise Mr. Rathore, I'm not going to be the puppet. I have already left my career for him, but I'm not going to stop living my life in my own way.

"I hate when someone talks back to me, wife, and you are getting on my nerves on the first night itself." I was pulled towards him before he bent me over the black table; my jaw hurt as it pressed against the surface. The erratic rhythm of my heart was audible in my own ears.

"Then surprise, husband, because I will reply and snap at each and every one of your sentences," I answered, even though I am way too nervous about the position he is holding me in. "Also, if you are planning to fuck me, then I guess the bed or the couch will be a comfortable position apart from this."

"Yeah, right fucking, that's what we are here for," he muttered, his voice deadly calm before he loosened his hold on my neck and he clasped my wrist, dragging me upstairs with him.

It was tough matching steps with him while wearing the high heels.

"Control, husband, you can't just drag me like a sack of potatoes while I am wearing heels and you are wearing your good-for-nothing flats; you can't even feel a girl's pain who wears heels." I said again, irking him more.

"Why the fuck are you so talkative tonight?" Because I love annoying you, I wanted to say it out loud but chose not to.

"Oww, that's harsh," I whined as he literally dragged me inside his bedroom and pushed me on the bed. His bed.

I looked around the room; it was so hauntingly beautiful and so huge.

"STRIP!" I didn't even move, the smug grin settling on my lips.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" My elbow rested on the mattress as I held my weight on it and gazed at the beautiful monster standing in front of me.

"If I do it, I will surely tear this designer lehenga of yours," making a bad face, I stood up and said, "Then wait." I walked over to the dressing table and started to take off the heavy jewelry.

"This is not your room; you can't just mess it up," he grumbled like a teenager trailing behind me.

"Oh, and?" I didn't even react much and continued my work. Once I was done and my neck and ears felt light, I started to take off the bobby pins from my hair.

"Don't provoke me, Shravani." I was pulled by him. Okay, what's with him pulling me here and there? Can't he see I am a human being as well?

"Provoke? I didn't even do anything, husband," I leaned closer to his lips and whispered further, "But the thing is you are just looking for excuses to touch me." His hold loosened almost immediately, and I chuckled, opening the 30th bobby pin from my hair.

Damn...

Once I was done, I sighed out. Jaiveer was still huffing, and he kind of looks cute trying to control his bubbling up anger.

The thing is, him trying to control his anger made me all giddy.

"So Mr. Husband, tell me, do you want me on my knees? On fours on the bed? Or do you want to go for missionary?" I asked him to give me the options as I took off my veil and the heavy dupatta (scarf).

"The first thing I want you to do is shut up." My grin didn't fade as I pulled the strings of my heavy lehenga skirt.

Jaiveer is way too rude, and his tone hurts me every time, but I am not here to show him that he affects me this much.

Come on, I am strong.

The skirt pooled around my feet as I stood in front of him in a red, skimpy thong. My hands trailed back to open the hooks of my blouse as I maintained eye contact with him, trying to search for something in his eyes for me, but it was too shallow.

His hazel eyes with gold flakes were so pale and emotionless, so blank. But it's still the most beautiful pair of eyes I've ever seen.

The blouse joined the floor with the heavy skirt, and I kind of feel conscious when his eyes trail to my body. Come on, Shravani, you are most confident with your body.

"You have already made your points clear with me; now it's my time." I strode towards him, my fingers finding the buttons of his sherwani as I started to unbutton it.

"I love you, Veer, but I hate one thing the most, and that is infidelity. I've known about your sexcapades, but now as we are married, I want you to be loyal to me. Show me your worst, and I will handle it, but if you go to any whores, I won't back off, slicing your throat before killing myself." His eyes were still emotionless as he heard me keenly without making a move.

Jaiveer was no innocent, and so was his fucked group; though he is more close to Vikram, he is sunshiny to everyone, but that's just a facade. Vikram, Ryan, Jaiveer, and Abhimaan have all gone to sex clubs way too many times and have done enough shit before Abhimaan backed off just two years back because he was getting serious with Jahnvi, and then he got married to Sayantika and became the ideal husband for her and totally changed himself.

Will there be a day when Jaiveer will change just like him?

I do expect Jaiveer to be loyal to me, but if he fails in it, then of course I have to kill him and myself before I join him in hell. The thing is I won't leave him in any way.

I successfully took off his sherwani, and he actually let me; his fingers shot up to curl around my nuptial chain as he jerked me closer with it before slamming me against the wall.

Ouch.

"You have used your mouth enough, wife," he hissed. "Give yourself a little break." My breath quickened due to our proximity, and I tried to keep my posture bold, not ready to shy away from him.

His hand went to the side drawer, locking me in the place at the same time. I didn't know what he was searching for with his hand. The cruel smile stretched on his lip, and before I could see what was in his hands, he spun me around. The soft touch on my cheeks made me shiver when I understood his motive.

Jaiveer tightened the material, which was surely a wide ribbon, from my mouth to circled around the back of my head so that I couldn't utter anything more.

Kinky much, husband?

"You are so fucking talkative, and it's annoying." I was pushed down on the bed, the satin sheet caressing against me, heightening the ache in my core.

I literally drooled at the sight of him undressing in front of me, the tattoos around his shoulder to arms coming into my view. Can he just open this good-for-nothing ribbon so that I could kiss all his tattoos?

My eyes trailed the path of his abs, stopping at the V-line of his.

Jaiveer left his pants on and joined me on the bed; my heart did a backflip and started to run so fast that I felt I might die. "Hands above your head, hold the headboard."

I did, and the next moment started to struggle because the little bitch of my husband has tied my wrist with the headboard. "What the hell?" I tried to scream, but my voice came out so muffled and gibberish. I will surely take revenge on him later.

"Now you are looking good, obedient, and mute." I glared at him, halting my struggles because there is no fucking way I could get out of his hold. It's so tight.

"Now let's start."

"Asking you for the last time, do you actually want to have sex?"

"Shake your head in either yes or no as an answer," I shook my head in yes, accepting the lust and desire I have for this monster.

"Good girl." I literally shivered at the praise; Jaiveer's eyes gave my body a once-over before he grasped my bra and tore it apart, followed by the thong. That was the most expensive set of mine, and now it's murdered and resting on the floor of the bedroom.

To be continued....

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