Page 70 of His Arranged Wife
"Why do you care?" she whispered. "You made it clear last night that I don't matter. That this marriage is just—"
"You matter." The words came out rough, like they'd been dragged from somewhere deep. "Whether I want you to or not, you matter."
Her breath caught.
He stood abruptly, as if he'd revealed too much. "I'm assigning a security detail. They'll be discreet, but they'll be with you whenever you leave the estate."
"Everyone will know you think I'm important now."
His eyes locked on hers. "You are."
Her heart stuttered.
"To the family image," he clarified after a pause, and something in her chest deflated. "We can't afford the scandal if something happens to you."
Of course. The family image. Not her.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He moved toward the door, then paused. "Nimisha."
"Yes?"
"Whoever sent those things... they're imagining things about you that they have no right to imagine." His voice was low, dangerous. "When I find them, they'll regret every thought they've had about my wife."
The possessiveness in his tone should have annoyed her.
Instead, it sent a shiver down her spine.
He left without another word.
Nimisha sat at her vanity, staring at the closed box, her mind racing.
Someone was watching her. Wanting her. Imagining her in ways that made her skin crawl.
And Samarth—her cold, distant husband—was ready to kill for her.
Even if he couldn't love her, he could be possessive.
She wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
Later That Night - 11:34 PM
Nimisha couldn't sleep.
Every sound made her jump. Every shadow looked sinister.
Someone out there was thinking about her. Sending her things. Watching.
She pulled on her robe and padded downstairs, needing water, needing air, needing something to calm the anxiety crawling under her skin.
The kitchen was dark except for the light over the stove. She poured herself water with trembling hands.
"Can't sleep?"
She spun, water sloshing over the rim of her glass.
Samarth stood in the doorway, dressed in sleep pants and nothing else. His chest was bare, muscles defined in the dim light.
