His Game Begins
The door to Room 302 swung open before I even knocked.
Warm air spilled out, scented with musk, oud, and burning cedarwood. The room was dimly lit — only the fire crackling in the hearth, casting shadows on deep red walls. Heavy curtains. Velvet furniture. Silence.
The Crown Prince of Rajasthan.
And the man who had orchestrated every step I’d taken since I arrived.
He stood by the fireplace, holding a glass of dark wine, his shirt half unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up.
He didn’t look surprised to see me.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.❄️
His voice was smooth. Calm. But something in it coiled around me like silk-covered steel.
Aaliya Khan (FL)
What is this place? What’s going on? This is not a wedding planning job—
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
No. It’s not.❄️
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
It never was❄️
He placed the glass on the mantel and walked toward me.
Every movement deliberate. Every inch closer making the air harder to breathe.
I should’ve demanded answers, screamed, anything.
But I stood frozen. Because something about the way he looked at me—
Like he already owned me.
Like he had for years.
He stopped only a foot away from me.
Close enough to feel his heat.
Close enough to make my pulse race.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
You still don’t remember me, do you?
Aaliya Khan (FL)
What are you talking about?
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the table in the center of the room and picked up a dark leather folder.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
Read this.
The pages inside were thick, expensive. And typed neatly.
AGREEMENT OF SUBMISSION AND STAY
Clause 1: You will remain at Rathore Palace indefinitely.
Clause 4: You will wear only what is provided to you.
Clause 6: Your schedule, meals, and movements will be managed.
Clause 9: Physical and emotional obedience to the prince is expected.
Final Clause: Consent is assumed upon signature. No termination clause applies.
Aaliya Khan (FL)
You think I’m going to sign this?🤨
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
I don’t think.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
I know you will.
I dropped the folder and turned toward the door—
Aaliya Khan (FL)
You planned this... all of this. Why?
He circled me now, like a panther — slow, sure, calculating.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
Because you belong here, Aaliya.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
Because you were stolen from me once.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
And I won’t let it happen again.
Aaliya Khan (FL)
I don’t even know you.
He stopped behind me. His breath brushed the back of my neck.
I could feel the heat of him—but he never touched me.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
But your body does.*low*
Something in his words… unlocked something small and buried inside me.
Familiar.
Unsettling.
Like I had seen him before, felt his presence… in another lifetime.
He finally moved in front of me again. Calm. Composed.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
Sign it. And I’ll make sure you never have to ask for anything again.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
Refuse… and you’ll still be mine. But I’ll be less gentle.
This was insane. I should scream. I should fight.
But his voice…
His eyes…
The way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world who mattered—
It made me feel things I couldn’t explain.
Not fear.
But something far more dangerous.
He stepped closer again and whispered:
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
I won’t force your hand, Aaliya.
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
But if you choose to stay…
Rajveer Singh Rathore (ML)
You’ll learn to kneel.
Author
will Aaliya agree to sign the contract or...
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