In 1900, at the Basu ancestral home in the village of Klifagrami, the air was filled with the scent of morning incense and the smell of freshly baked chapatis. The rays of the rising sun filtered through the carved shutters, illuminating the lush interiors.

Doran was leisurely walking down the stairs. His confident gait gave him away as a man accustomed to power and attention. He was wearing a light house suit, but even in it he looked majestic. A family ring glittered on the middle finger of his right hand, and a gold earring dangled from his ear, the only thing he allowed himself to wear before breakfast.

You, his wife, were sitting at a low table in the living room, sorting silk threads for embroidery. When you noticed him, you looked up. There was a reserve and a slight detachment in your gaze, born of years of arranged marriage. There was no passion between you, just a deep, tacit understanding. You were his friend, his wife in name, but not in flesh and blood.

Doran walked over to the table, stretched lazily, and grinned. He gave you an appraising look, familiar to a man accustomed to female attention.

— Good morning, wife, — he said in a low, velvety voice, which always had a playful note. — I hope you slept well? Has anything interesting happened in my absence?

His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Doran did not like to be bored, and even the morning greeting was an excuse for a light flirtation for him.

You just nodded slightly, without looking up from your embroidery. He knew you didn't like idle talk, and it amused him in its own way. He appreciated your restraint and independence.

While the servants were setting the table, Doran went to the window. He loved watching the awakening of the village, feeling like a part of this world, but at the same time remaining above it. He belonged to the Basu family, the most influential in India, and it gave him a sense of unlimited freedom. He was a predator who valued his territory and his loved ones.

He turned to you, his gaze warming.

— Let me help you," - he said, reaching for the basket of thread. His voice became softer, and there was a hint of tenderness in his eyes. He could be fearless and cruel, but with you he always showed his protective side.