Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The House of Shadows

Janaki sat on the edge of the silk-draped bed, fingers tightening around the cold edge of the bedside table. The room was large enough to host a small gathering, yet the emptiness pressed down on her chest like a physical weight. The rain outside had intensified, drumming against the tall windows in a relentless, chaotic rhythm. Each drop felt like a warning, a signal that the world beyond the gates was hunting her, and inside these walls, the only person standing between her and that danger was the man she was supposed to expose.

The silence was suffocating.

She glanced at the door, half-expecting Aadhithya to appear as if materialized by some dark spell. Her pulse ticked up at the thought. The CM. The man who could crush anyone like an insect. And yet, here he was… letting her live in his house. Watching her. Controlling her every movement.

A soft click made her whip around.

The door opened, just a crack, and a sliver of shadow fell into the room. He stepped inside. Hands in his pockets. Shirt perfectly pressed. The authority in his posture made it clear: he was in control of everything—except maybe the growing tension between them.

“You’re awake,” he said simply.

“I’ve been awake,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “And I’m not thrilled about being in… your… mansion.” Her voice faltered slightly. The words sounded braver than she felt.

His eyes, sharp as obsidian, softened just enough to be unnerving.

“You have no choice. I warned you yesterday. This isn’t a negotiation.”

She swallowed, trying to mask the way her pulse was spiking. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble. She stepped toward the window, trying to focus on the rain-soaked driveway instead of the intensity radiating from him.

Aadhithya’s movement was smooth, predatory even. He stopped a mere foot behind her. “You’re thinking about what happens if someone comes for you tonight,” he said. “And you’re right to be thinking it.”

Her stomach twisted.

“Why me? Why care?” she asked, her voice quieter this time.

The man who ruled Tamil Nadu shrugged, a small, unreadable motion. “Because you don’t know how to run from danger. And because… I don’t like the idea of someone hurting you.”

The words were simple. And yet, the undercurrent was electrifying. His nearness made her skin tingle. Her hair bristled as if sensing the storm building inside the house, inside the room, and somewhere deep inside herself.

She turned, finally meeting his gaze. “That’s… not comforting,” she said.

Aadhithya’s lips curved, almost imperceptibly. “It’s supposed to make you aware.” His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Aware of the consequences of defiance… and desire.”

Her chest fluttered at the words. Desire. That single word held a thousand unspoken implications. Heat rose to her cheeks. She told herself it was anger. Anger at being trapped. Anger at being terrified. Anger at the man who seemed to own her attention without even touching her.

“Enough,” she said, more sharply than intended. “I have work to do.” She swept past him toward the antique desk and opened her laptop. The screen flickered to life, displaying her unfinished exposé. Her hands hovered over the keyboard, but her thoughts refused to focus.

“Your work can wait,” he said, following her movement, his voice low and deliberately intimate. “Right now, staying alive is the priority.”

She closed her laptop abruptly, frustration spilling out. “I don’t need protection. I can handle myself.”

A shadow passed over his face—something she couldn’t read. Something protective, something warning, and something dangerously magnetic. “Handle yourself? In the world that wants you dead? You’ll die. And then what?”

Her jaw clenched. “Then at least I die standing for the truth.”

He stepped closer, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle scent of his cologne—spicy, clean, impossible to ignore. His eyes narrowed, scanning hers like a predator assessing prey, though she wasn’t sure which of them was hunting which anymore.

“You have courage,” he said quietly. “Reckless, stupid courage. I like it. But courage won’t stop a bullet.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “And you think hiding me in your mansion will?”

“Better chance than standing out there on your own,” he replied.

There was a long, electric pause. The sound of rain filled the room, masking the rapid beat of her heart. She could feel his gaze lingering, heavy and heated. Something unspoken passed between them—something potent, dangerous, and undeniably magnetic.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the hallway. Both of them snapped toward the sound. A shadow moved across the frosted glass panels of the corridor.

“Not good,” Aadhithya muttered. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist with an iron grip and pulled her toward the hidden staircase that led to the servants’ quarters. “Stay close,” he commanded.

The next moments were a blur. They moved like shadows, silent and deliberate. Janaki’s pulse raced, partly from fear, partly from the close proximity of his body brushing against hers. She was painfully aware of the heat, the smell, the way his every move exuded control, power, and… something else she didn’t dare define.

They reached the narrow corridor that led to the private exit. Two men lurked near the staircase landing. The kind of men you only see in movies—or in nightmares.

Aadhithya didn’t hesitate. His hand shot out, yanking her behind him as he drew a sleek pistol from beneath his jacket. The night erupted into chaos. Shots rang out. Rain splashed against the open exit.

Janaki’s heart hammered in her chest. She had never been this close to death. Never been this close to a man who made her entire world pivot with a single glance.

And yet, amidst the adrenaline, her body betrayed her. Heat pooled in places she didn’t want it to. Awareness of his proximity, the hard strength of his arm, the smell of him, the electric tension between them—it made her dizzy, furious, and bewildered all at once.

Aadhithya took down the two intruders with terrifying efficiency, his movements precise, fluid, lethal. One moment he was beside her, shielding her from a gunshot; the next, he had them incapacitated.

The rain had soaked her hair, plastered her saree against her skin, but she barely noticed. She was aware of nothing but him—his presence, his control, and the dangerous closeness of his body.

When the final intruder was subdued, Aadhithya’s gaze swept over her. “You see why I brought you here?” he asked, voice low, almost a growl.

Janaki’s legs trembled. “Yes,” she whispered. But it was more than that. Her mind reeled from fear, adrenaline, and… something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to name.

He studied her silently for a long moment. Then, in a move that should have felt casual but sent her pulse into overdrive, he brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. His fingers lingered too long. His proximity was suffocating, intoxicating, impossible.

“Get inside,” he said finally. “Stay away from the windows. Stay alive. And… don’t think about how close I am.”

The words struck her like fire. Her stomach twisted. Her heart raced. And yet, against every instinct screaming at her to flee, she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move.

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to scream, “I don’t need you!”

But when he turned and disappeared down the corridor, leaving her alone in the storm-slicked mansion, all she could do was stand there, trembling, her senses painfully aware of him—of the way the air still smelled of his cologne, of the warmth he left behind, of the tension between them that refused to dissipate.

Janaki sank onto the edge of the bed, the silk sheets sticking to her damp skin. The laptop blinked on the desk, untouched. She knew she should return to her work. She should focus on exposing the scandal.

But all she could think about was the man who had saved her life… and the undeniable, terrifying way he made her feel alive.

For the first time, Janaki realized that staying in Aadhithya Varma’s house wasn’t just dangerous—it was intoxicating.

And the night had only just begun.