Page 174 of Claimed By the Maharaja
He closed the distance in seconds, caught the raised fist mid-swing, and used the man's own momentum to put him into the support beam instead of the worker.
The other three turned.
Oh God.
Yamini’s heart thudded loudly in her ears as her hand pressed flat against the screen, as if that could change what was taking place.
The three men attacked together.
Bharat didn’t move back or even flinch. He struck.
She watched in shock as he moved with a lethal calmness and precision. A block, a redirect, a strike placed exactly where it needed to be placed. He moved like he'd already calculated where each man would be before they got there.
One went down. Then another.
The third ran.
Bharat let him go. His attention was already on the worker against the beam, checking him, saying something the cameras didn't carry sound for.
Security flooded the floor seconds later.
Her chest rose as she let out a small, relieved breath, even as her heart continued to pound.
Why hadn’t he waited for security to go there first?
He had deliberately gone there, knowing security was securing the perimeter outside first, as he instructed.
It annoyed her that he put himself at risk.
The steel door opened a few minutes later, and he stepped inside.
He looked composed and controlled as though he hadn’t walked into a brawl and punched the daylights out of four men.
“You should have left when I asked you to this morning,” he said.
Irritation and concern tangled together. She was annoyed at him and worried he was hurt.
“You didn't ask. You commanded,” she shot back.
“Yes.”
He stepped closer and lifted her helmet slowly from her head. The cool air loosened her hair from where it had been tucked. His gloved thumb brushed a smear of soot from her cheek—brief and unhurried.
“You were almost caught in the crossfire,” he said, his voice tight.
“I can handle myself.”
His eyes dropped briefly to her wrist, where he had grabbed her. “That,” he added, his voice lower, “is precisely why I don't like it.”
Her pulse jumped.
He pulled off his gloves one finger at a time, his eyes not leaving hers. Her eyes lowered, and she saw bruises on his knuckles.
Her breath hitched as she tried not to touch him.
“Tomorrow you will not be at the factory,” he commanded.
Her eyes flew up to his.
