Page 7 of Born in Ruin

Mayukhi flushed, taking an instinctive step away from him and towards her father. Smart girl.

“I don’t take kindly to that, Kraken. And now, I’d like my pound of flesh please.”

Mayukhi cleared her throat but still ended up croaking when she said, “And how does marrying me give you that?”

It didn’t. Ishaan had no intention of actually marrying the Wicked Witch of the West. He just wanted everyone to think he was going to, including her. She was his ‘in’ to the Crestwood crowd. Neither Virat nor Amay bothered to socialise in the circles they ran in which left Ishaan to pick up that slack. But while he might be a part of those social circles, he’d never belong. Mayukhi Chatterjee on the other hand belonged. She fit in like a hand with a custom-made glove and as her fiancé, the glove would have no option but to tolerate him, even if just on the periphery.

He was going to bring down their twisted empire from the inside and he was going to use the Kraken to do so.

“You don’t like me,” Mayukhi said now, drawing his attention back to his sweaty bride-to-be.

“No, I don’t,” he agreed.

“Then why?” Her bafflement was obvious.

“I wasn’t aware we had to like the person we marry,” he said mildly.

“Cut the bullshit.” Her father’s temper flared as he stood, glaring at Ishaan. “What’s in it for you?”

“Revenge,” he told them, crossing one leg over the other.

“For planting one story about you in the press?” Mayukhi asked in disbelief.

“No.” Ishaan got to his feet, shooting his cuffs and adjusting his suit jacket before stalking over to where she stood. “For all the shit you put me through in school and, yes, for having the audacity to plant a speculative article that took potshots at the company I’ve built.”

“I won’t do it.” Her false bravado had her voice shaking. “And you can’t force me, dipshit.”

“Your insults need work and yes, you will.”

“You can’t make me!”

His eyes flashed with amusement at the childish taunt but when he spoke, he met her father’s eyes, not hers.

“I most certainly can. As of this morning, I own fifty one percent of the stock in your father’s company. If you don’t marry me, I’m going to use that to vote your father off the board and out of the company.”

“You bastard.” Mayukhi’s words were a whisper of sound. Her father’s face had gone pale.

“You really should keep better track of your company’s performance on the stock market. If someone was making a run on my stocks, I’d know.”

“You fucking asshole!” Mayukhi’s fury was beautiful to behold. It warmed Ishaan’s frozen heart.

Ishaan held a hand up, palm out, silencing the rest of her tirade. “If you meet all the terms of my agreement, I will, at the end of it all, transfer all the shares I have in your company back to you, Mr. Chatterjee.”

“Why?” Mayukhi asked, her voice a tightly coiled ball of frustration and rage.

“Because I don’t really want any part of this shit company.”

She was almost vibrating with rage, but it was her father, looking rather pale and shaken, who said, “Hear him out, Yukhi.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. “What are your terms?”

Ishaan smiled, one hand going to cradle her cheek gently, his thumb caressing the soft underside of her jaw.

“See Kraken. I told you I could make you do anything I want.”

His hand tightened on her jaw for a second before he forced himself to let go and step back.

“I’ll be in touch with details.” Brisk, clear, clinical, he reminded himself. “Keep your phone close.”

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