RiKara SS - Everything I Do - Pt22, 23 pg67 (18/7/17) - Page 2

Fight

Acting tipsy was no big deal, she thought as she swayed to the beat. The trick was not to meet anyone's eye. If you're drunk your focus wasn't that good after all. The crowd pressed against her, nothing more than solidified shadows in the dim light occasionally cut across by neon flashes. The music rumbled ear splittingly high and her phone vibrated against her skin. Knowing who it was, Ri ignored the call; lectures could wait, she was a woman on a mission that night.

Usually, she tried to keep a low profile, usually she was one to avoid places like these. Usually, she cared what the people thought about her, about maintaining her image. That was before she was forced to get married. Before she was told to give up on her love. The fear of losing the one person that mattered above the rest had broken all those self imposed norms. She would ruin her image herself, if that's what it took to spoil the chances of becoming an Oberoi trophy wife.

That reminded her, they had some or other ritual going on tonight, didn't they? Rolling her eyes to the darkness, she threw her arms above her head and danced - with no care of the world - no trace of guilt. She had warned him - that so called fiance of hers - he was going to regret this decision. Ri had all the plans of keeping her word. He was the one who had turned this into a battle of egos.

A hand pressed against her hip, from the darkness a leering face loomed closer. Ri backed away - considering they were in the dead center of that mass of moving bodies - it didn't mean much. Unlike her the man was truly drunk, the lust in his bloodshot eyes unmistakable. He gripped her waist with a hand, as he breathed down her face. The odor of alcohol almost made her vomit.

"Why is sucha beautiful babe alone tonight?" Ri grimaced at him before stumping his foot with her two inch heel. Those shoes came handy at times like these. His face twisted with pain for a moment, turning it - if possible - even more sour. The next second however his grip tightened on her. "Feisty one are you?"

She almost stumbled struggling to free herself. For the first time that night she wondered if this had been the brightest idea she had in a while. A warm hand on the small of her back, steadied her.

"She's with me," his tone was clear and sober, if not somewhat intimidating. Although she hated to admit it, Ri was glad he was there and she had forgotten for a minute to wonder how he had tracked her out. (Was she bugged as well?) Even without turning her head to watch, she could imagine him standing there, towering over both her and her captor - possibly two body guards behind him dressed like those fellows from Metrix.

The drunkard's grip faltered before it slowly slipped away. Ri stepped back and her savior gripped her shoulders to still her at that spot. He was still calmly watching that man - a vein throbbing at his temple and throat - his gaze icy. The drunkard muttered something incoherent - probably a curse word and the dancing figures swallowed him, leaving no trace of his presence behind. It was only then he let her go, stepped around so that their gazes met. The crowd pressed them together and her hands came to rest on his chest against the impact. He ran a lazy finger from her elbow up to her wrist, before gently gripping them.

"Care for a dance?" His tone was sarcastic, enough to get her boiling. They swayed on the spot for a moment, her eyes glaring daggers at him. "You're welcome by the way," he dipped his head and whispered against her cheek.

"You self invited yourself to my rescue," she told him. "I had it under control."

That look he gave was half amused and half annoyed. Ri huffed, she hated to entertain him. Amidst those dancers it was hard to maintain distance, from every side the swaying bodies pressed them closer, forcing her arms to lock around his neck, his to splay on her hips. Each time she swayed she could feel his touch - he wasn't touching her - but his hands were always there, trapping her into that feeling of their togetherness.

"I know what you're doing," his tone was dark, she pretended not to hear him over the loud music. "It's not gonna work." Forgetting her initial act of ignorance she scowled at him.

"Why are you so hell bent on marrying me?" She gritted her teeth. "Why me? What do you know about me?"

"Ask Mr. Oberoi," he said bitterly and then corrected himself. "My dad."

"What?" Her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair. "This whole deal is about playing the apple of his eye? Give me a break, do you care for me at all?"

With a lazy hand he tucked a lock behind her ear, his eyes suddenly curious.

"Why, you want me to care?"

"I want you to get lost," she told him, trying to step away from the circle of his arms, only to be pushed back in by the crowd around them. "Or else I'm gonna make your life hell!"

"There's not much to do," he twirled her around, pressing her back to his chest and his fingers lacing hers, hands wrapped around themselves. "It's already a chaos."

"I'm not going down without a fight," she stated, more to her benefit than anyone else's.

"Okay," he sounded dismissive, as if a two year old was telling him there was a monster under his bed. "At least life will be interesting."

"Why are you always so -" she looked around for the proper word. "Indifferent?"

"You want the truth?" His tone was dark.

"I'd prefer nothing else."

"Because I don't give a damn." Too straight, his tone was too raw. For a moment it forced her to wonder what had poisoned him to this extent. Surely, no artist had such a dark soul. "You were right earlier, I don't care for you. Frankly neither of us will probably ever do, but there's someone I care, someone for whom I could die - marrying you is a piece of cake."

"And I get no say in this?"

"Nope." He replied. "Because when it comes to my mother nothing else matters. Everything I do, I'll do it for her. You can try all you want; Omkara Singh Oberoi is not gonna let you go."

**

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Sorry if you're disappointed.

Thanks for reading!😳

Love,

Sakura