Page 220 of The Redemption
“The... what?”
“The Clay House. It’s right beside your villa.”
I blink. “Clay house? What… what is he doing there?”
“Pottery.”
My jaw almost drops.
Raghav? And pottery?
The call ends soon after, but I remain exactly where I am. It’s fascinating. Every single day, this man surprises me with another side of himself I never imagined existed. I step out of the villa with a wide smile and head towards the Clay House.
The moment I push the door open, I halt in my tracks, spotting Raghav inside. He doesn’t notice me. The man is completely engrossed in the spinning pottery wheel before him, dressed in nothing but a black sleeveless vest and rugged jeans. Damp clay stains the front of his vest, with more smeared across his jeans and the side of his neck. Somehow, it makes him look even more striking.
His broad shoulders flex effortlessly with every movement of his hands, his muscular arms working patiently as the lump of clay slowly begins to take shape beneath his fingers. There’s something almost hypnotic about watching him like this.
Until now, I knew him as the feared mafia prince, the protective husband, and the broken son. But today, he’s alsoRaghav the creator.A man whose hands once destroyed lives now patiently shapes something beautiful out of fragile clay. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more unexpectedly attractive.
He finally senses my presence and lifts his gaze to me. Although surprised, he doesn’t say a word. He simply looks at me once before returning his attention to the pottery wheel.
I knew it.
Suppressing my smile, I walk a little closer.
“I didn’t know the Dark Prince secretly practiced pottery and was this good at it.”
No response. Someone is clearly still upset.
“Raghav...” I call, deliberately drawing out his name.
He doesn’t so much as glance my way. I let out an exaggerated sigh before walking right up beside him.
“Fine. Be stubborn. Don’t talk to me.” I fold my arms, and my attention drifts back to the pottery wheel. “But this... this is amazing. I’ve never tried pottery before. In fact, this is the first time I’m actually watching someone make something like this. It looks like so much fun. I want to learn too.”
His hands don’t stop, nor does his expression change. He seems determined to ignore me.
“Are you going to teach me or not?” I ask with mock annoyance.
“Suit yourself,” he replies without even looking my way.
Fine!
I look down at my robe before glancing at the spinning clay. Knowing that the satin robe would soon be smeared with clay, I untie the sash around my waist. The smooth fabric falls open, and I slip it off my shoulders and toss it over a nearby chair, leaving me in nothing but my short, sleeveless nightdress. Only then do I look back at Raghav.
The pottery wheel continues to spin, but his hands are no longer moving. For the first time since I entered the room, all of his attention is finally onme.
RAGHAV
As the satin robe slips off her shoulders, every coherent thought inside my head comes to an abrupt halt. I simply stare at my wife.
Siya has never been a shy woman. Confidence has always been stitched into her personality as naturally as breathing. She has never hidden behind hesitation or false modesty. But still, I never imagined she would stand before me like this, wearing nothing but that short nightdress, completely unaware of the effect she’s having on me.
The wheel keeps spinning beneath my hands, and within seconds, the perfectly rising vase crumples into a misshapen lump. But I barely notice.
Then, Siya walks over and lowers herself onto my stool, right between me and the pottery wheel. I instinctively shift back, making just enough room for her. The movement causes the hem of her nightdress to ride a little higher over her thighs, and I instantly drag my gaze away.
F*ck!I need to focus.
