Jaiveer's POV.

"It doesn't matter; what is decided is decided." I chugged the burning liquid down in one go to control the anger seeping inside me.

My grandmother, Vidhita Singh Rathore, is a strict lady who doesn't like to hear no and wants everything to go as per her wish.

I hate my family and everyone in it except two of my brothers.

"Grandmother, if I leave Rathore Heights, then it will be you all who will suffer from the losses." I kept my tone respectable and directed my eyes to her.

Everyone present at the table looked at us and stopped eating as they waited for the drama to unfold.

"Doesn't matter, Jaiveer, Viraansh, and Samar are here as well to handle the business." She smoothly delivered the words to me, the smirk playing on her lips.

My eyes trailed to my brothers, Viraansh Singh Rathore and Samarth Singh Rathore, who were already looking at me boringly, nodding their heads.

Business in their hands means it would surely go bankrupt in a go.

"If you want your position secure in the business and want your part of the property, you know what you need to do." My grandfather, Chayan Singh Rathore, spoke after chugging the alcohol down.

"What's the need for all these? I can hire any girl to be the surrogate of my child and----"

"That's not how it works; you need to get married first to an influential family like us." I controlled the urge to break everything when my good-for-nothing father The Devik Singh Rathore spoke interrupted.

Has anyone ever had the urge to punch their father? Oh, I have, and I am not ashamed of it.

"Never knew you all were so desperate to tie me with someone just so I can have sex with her and knock her up," I chuckled and filled my glass again.

Why did I even agree to attend this dysfunctional family dinner?

"Language, Jaiveer!" Father urged, which I ignored, and I stood up, wiping my hands.

"It was such a displeasure meeting you all; I should take a leave now, otherwise the currently alive brain cells of mine will die in seconds." Samarth and Viraansh hid their laugh with a cough and looked down at their plates.

Laughing at the Rathore's dining table is a grave sin.

"Leave all you want, Jai, but you are meeting with Datta's daughter tomorrow." My father's wife, Geetika Singh Rathore, chose to speak this time, which made my actions halt.

Datta's Daughter.

Shravani Datta.

The pain in my ass.

The bane of my existence.

"What did you just say?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Shravani Datta, bro, she is my crush, but see her dad sent her a shadi ka rishta for you; they should have sent it for me." Samarth blabbered it out only to receive a slap on his head from Viraansh.

They are privileged enough to get away with that, they said. If I'd cracked a joke like this at the dining table, the same family would have made the decision to hang me.

Fuck them.

And why did Datta want me to get married to her?

Isn't Shravani in the peak of her career?

Does she even know that her dad sent her so-called shadi ka rishta for me?

Arguing about this whole situation with my shitty family would be equal to jumping from the cliff.

Let's just not do it.

And leave this place.

"Grandmother, I just want to let you know if I actually chose to resign from the Rathor Heights, it would go bankrupt and not me." I finally said the words, which were itching on my tongue.

"That's our concern, Jaiveer," Father said. "How about we seize your cards? And the luxuries you are enjoying as a Rathore—why did this bastard even deliver his sperm to give me birth?

I fucking hate him.

"Doesn't matter, Father. I have my mom's fortune, and I am capable enough to fuck you all up, you know. Do you all actually want me to go against you all? I don't have any problem seeing you all on the roads."

"Jaiveer!" Grandmother stood up, shouting at me as she slammed the glass with a thud.

I am not scared of her or anyone present in this household.

"Don't give pressure to your vocal cords, grandmother; it's not good for your age." I winked at her and walked out of the corrupted mansion.

_____________________

Next Day.

"Welcome, Jaiveer." I pressed a fake smile on my face and nodded. They can't comprehend that my smile is fake; actually, no one else does.

I've known Datta since childhood. He is my sperm donor's best friend.

Kabir Datta, the billionaire and family man, is always smiling and enjoying his life with his wife, Claire Datta, who is the well-known fashion designer all over the world. Kabir Datta fell for an American beauty and then married her and then had Shravani Datta, the irritating ass, and Savannah Datta, the younger one, who is 14 now.

I accepted the breakfast invitation at Datta's because I respect them, and they are far better than my dysfunctional family.

"Jaiveer, we were waiting for you only." Aunt Claire walked towards me, wearing the apron and holding a spatula.

"Thank you for having me." I gave her a quick hug and moved back.

"The breakfast will take a little more time," she announced. "How about you go and hang out with Shravani?" That tone of hers caught me off guard.

It sounded like she was sure that I wouldn't be going to say no to this marriage.

Hanging out with her? No, thanks.

She is crazy.

"Uh, it's totally alright; I might talk to Uncle Kabir." I politely refused.

"Jaiveer, I have an important call to attend." These parents are literally trying to fix me up with their daughter.

"Alright then, I'll just meet with Shravani." I respect them enough to not snap at them or throw some nasty words.

I heard Aunt Claire saying she was in her room, and I made my way to the stairs leading to her room.

Way to my destruction.

I knocked once, twice, and before I could knock again, the door slammed open, and I was pulled inside and pushed on the couch, and she was on me in a second.

"Hiii sexy." This fucking girl, and what the heck is she wearing?

"What the fuck was that?" The urge to push her off my lap hit me, but I controlled myself.

"Just welcoming my to-be husband in my room," she answered, grinning.

"I haven't said yes to the marriage yet." She ignored my words and wrapped her arms around my neck, literally thrusting her tits on my face.

I should've thought about her ways before coming to her den.

"You will be going to say yes eventually." She shrugged her shoulders.

She is so fucking confident.

"Why the fuck do you want to get married to me?"

"Because I love you" is so fucking straightforward.

"You are still not over it yet?"

"How over? How could I be? You broke my heart when I was 18, and now I am mature and sexy." Yeah, her childish crush on me, and she straight out proposed to me when she was 18.

"And now you are not dating that sleazy bitch anymore, so--"

"It's not love, Shravani. You shouldn't mess with this marriage shit and all." I warned her, interrupting in between.

"I don't need your validation, whether it's love or not, Jaiveer," she snapped suddenly, acting all furious.

"Great then, I will just go and tell your parents that we are incompatible and we shouldn't get married." Shravani huffed out at my words.

"You won't do any of that." Try fucking me.

"We are getting married, and that's it." Who the fuck is she to think that she would command me and I would listen to her?

You are wrong this time, Shravani Datta.

She is a total example of a spoilt, dumb princess, getting everything she wants and so fucking privileged. Shravani dropped out of college because studying wasn't her cup of tea and joined as a petite model, and that too, one of the highest-paid ones.

When everyone in Hollywood fusses about the height and weight of the model, she did get the chance without any barrier because of the source; why not? Her mother is the famous fashion designer.

I am no judge, but she is undeserving and privileged; with the height of 5'5 , she is actually in the modelling industry.

That's why she is a petite model, arsehole.

Whatever it is, she is a nepo kid.

"Are you sure you want to get married to me, Shravani?" Her eyes widened when she noticed the smirk curling on my lips.

"Yes," her answer was instant, but it was more like a question to herself.

"Well for that you need to give up your modelling career, these small little dresses, and have to give me an heir or heiress." I took her off-guard with my demands, enjoying how she suddenly got so tense. "You know I am so orthodox and so is my family, so you have to wear Indian outfits every day, like sarees and suits, and have to be a housewife.

Now she will be going to reject it, and that's what I want.

Of course, why would she want to get married to a misogynist bastard?

"Um, what? You are kidding, right?" She asked, perplexed and shocked.

"Do I look like I am kidding?" I retorted, trailing my fingers on her hair; the brown hair has dominated the blondes inside it, but I could make out the hidden golden streaks of hers. The smirk played on my lips, and this time I pulled her closer to me; she didn't react and got lost in her thoughts.

"Shravu, you know what has happened in the------Shit, I am sorry; I didn't know."

Shravani stood up with a jerk hearing the voice; it was her younger sibling who barged inside, ignoring the courtesy of knocking first.

"Damn, what's with you all? I just found Mom and Dad eating each other's mouths in the kitchen, and I thought to escape it here only to find you both on the verge; I am traumatised for life now." Savannah let out dramatically.

"Savannah, go to your room and freshen up." Shravani scolded her.

"Yeah, sure, but please don't start to make babies now." She ran out of the door, closing the door behind her.

"So where were we?" I turned to her, and the door barged open again. What the fuck?

"Uh, sorry, but I just heard Mom yell, The breakfast is ready now."

"I'll wait for your decision, Shravani." Standing up, I fixed my shirt and walked out of the room.

____________

I joined her family for breakfast, and she came downstairs after 10-something minutes, changing into something decent and not that fuck me camisole and shorts.

Shravani is silently playing with her food, and I am being talkative to her parents because I am happy and sure she would say no to this marriage. Her career is more important.

"So Jaiveer, let's get to the point." Uncle Kabir turned his attention to me as I thrust the portion of pancake in my mouth. "What's your decision about the marriage?"

I smiled, which for sure looked real, but it was fake. "I don't have any problem, Uncle Kabir; I guess you should ask about Shravani's decision."

"Oh, Shravani has---"

"I need time," she interrupted her father.

The look on Uncle Kabir's face gave off that he wasn't expecting that from her.

"Alright, princess." He quickly composed himself.

Taking out my phone,

I quickly typed her a message.

To,

Shravani Datta

You could have said no. What's the need of asking for a time?

Her phone beeped, and she looked at the text and then at me as I smiled sickly at hers.

I love when things go just the way I want.

_____________