📖 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN — "The Seduction Game"**
---
### 💌 Author Note — From Aish L'Inarrestabile:
> *"Let's get dangerous. Let's get delicious. Let's take a woman who kissed a king and make her question what happens when the world wants her to lead. The seduction in this chapter isn't just lips and heat. It's power. It's ambition. It's a throne split between bloodlines — and Yuvraj Malhotra? He's about to discover that his biggest rival... wears heels."*
> — *Aish L'Inarrestabile*
---
### 🔄 **Recap from Chapter 15 — "Jealous Hearts":**
Aira laughed with someone from her past.
Yuvraj saw red. Rage.
He nearly pulled the trigger on a cousin.
Aira played the game.
And Yuvraj nearly lost.
But it ended with a letter.
From Aarav Singh.
> *"You married a king. But don't forget — you were born a queen. Come meet me. Alone."*
---
The letter still sat on my vanity the next morning.
I hadn't touched it.
Didn't need to.
It had already touched *me*.
The words weren't flirtation.
They were **invocation**.
And I wasn't foolish — I knew what Aarav wanted. Not romance. Not trouble. Not even secrets.
He wanted to *recruit me*.
Into what?
That was the part I needed to find out.
---
I wore red. Not just any red — **war red**.
A high-slit silk dress that whispered across the marble halls like a threat dipped in perfume. Gold anklets, thin enough to remind me of chains. Bangles at my wrists that jingled like danger.
Yuvraj hadn't spoken since last night.
He hadn't touched me either.
But I *felt* him.
Watching.
Judging.
**Wanting.**
---
> "Where are you going?" he asked finally.
Not a demand. A test.
I turned to face him.
He was shirtless. Coffee in one hand. Jaw sharp enough to slice apology and leave nothing but truth.
> "To meet my cousin," I said.
> "You know he wants more than a family reunion."
> "Good. I want more than gossip."
He raised a brow. Just one.
> "You're playing again."
I stepped close. Let my perfume invade his breath.
> "No, Yuvraj. I'm *leading* now."
---
**The café Aarav chose was in Trastevere.**
Old Rome. Tourists buzzing. Sunlight dancing across cobbled alleys and Vespa engines purring like cats on heat.
He sat there like a man born to headlines — sunglasses, white linen shirt unbuttoned to sin, espresso untouched.
When he saw me, he smiled.
> "Now that," he said, "is an entrance worthy of a queen."
> "Cut the charm, Aarav. What do you want?"
He leaned forward.
> "Everything they denied you."
---
He talked.
And I listened.
About the *hidden Singh council*, still operating from Dubai.
About *unclaimed legacy shares* in arms trafficking and international crypto laundering.
About a *seat* that was **rightfully mine** — Singh blood, firstborn line.
> "Your father chose exile. You don't have to," he said.
> "I'm already married to a king."
> "Then rule beside him — but with your *own* crown."
My breath caught.
Because somewhere deep inside me, some small reckless part of me… agreed.
---
But I also knew what power did to men.
And how it turned women into trophies or threats.
Yuvraj hadn't made me either.
He made me a *weapon*.
Still…
I needed to know where this game ended.
---
When I returned to the estate, he was waiting.
Yuvraj. In the private greenhouse. Surrounded by blood-red roses he grew himself.
He didn't speak.
Just turned as I entered.
And stared.
**Hard.**
> "You went," he said.
> "I did."
> "You listened?"
> "I did."
> "And?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I walked to him. Slow. Measured. Predatory.
The roses brushed my dress. Petals clung to the silk like promises.
> "He wants to make me a queen," I said.
> "You already are."
> "He wants to make me an heir."
> "You already are that too."
> "But he doesn't want to *own* me, Yuvraj."
His eyes flared.
And he stepped forward.
> "Neither do I. I want to *worship* you. There's a difference."
---
He backed me into the glass wall of the greenhouse. Heat coiling between us.
> "Did he touch you?"
> "Would it matter?"
> "Yes."
His hands were at my waist now. Not forceful. Just *there*.
> "I don't mind if the world looks," he whispered. "But I *kill* the ones who reach."
> "I didn't let him."
> "Good girl."
---
Then he did what I didn't expect.
He dropped to his knees.
Kissed the fabric at my hip.
Looked up at me.
Eyes dark. Hungry. Devoted.
> "If you want that throne, I'll build it. If you want that seat, I'll *burn mine*. But if you ever walk away from me — I'll raze continents. Understand?"
> "You love me like fire."
> "I *am* fire."
I touched his jaw.
> "Then burn with me. Not for me."
---
We didn't cross the line that night.
But we danced on it.
Hands under fabric.
Mouths on skin.
But when he lifted me onto the marble table in the greenhouse and kissed my collarbone like it was holy, I stopped him.
> "Not yet," I breathed.
He groaned — low, primal.
> "You'll kill me."
> "Not before I make you live."
---
The next morning, a package arrived.
Unmarked.
Inside was a USB.
Yuvraj played it on the library screen.
**Footage.** Surveillance. Time-stamped.
Aira. Aarav. The café.
The conversation.
Word for word.
---
Ritika Malhotra stepped into the room.
Regal. Calm. Dressed in grey like smoke after fire.
> "There's a mole in the Singh family," she said.
> "They want to use Aira," Yuvraj growled.
> "No," she corrected. "They want to *replace* you."
He turned to me.
Eyes not angry — *heartbroken*.
> "Did you know?"
> "Not until now."
> "Do you believe me now?"
I walked forward.
Kissed him. Once. Slow.
> "I always did."
---
### 💌 Author Note — From Aish L'Inarrestabile:
> *"She chose him. Again. But now she's not just the wife of a king — she's the target of an empire. The Singh betrayal runs deep. Chapter 17: *The Silent War* is where love goes quiet, knives get drawn, and Aira gets taken. Yes. Taken."*
> — *Aish L'Inarrestabile*
---
> **That night, Yuvraj woke to an empty bed.**
> Aira was gone.
> Her bangles left on the floor.
> A blood-red petal on her pillow.
> And a note:
>
> *"If you want your queen… come alone."*
---
Who do you think have kidnapped Aira comment down your thoughts till then wait for It.... Chapter 17