Married For One Reason Only by Dani Collins
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEYMARRIEDINa brief civil ceremony in Gibraltar. Oriel wore a cream-colored skirt with a pale rose top that set off the golden tones in her skin. Vijay was in a gray suit and tie. Their wedding was short, solemn and profound. Vijay hadn’t approached his marriage lightly, but he hadn’t expected such a depth of pride and satisfaction once their rings were on their fingers, either.
It felt like a beginning, a fresh one that held more promise than he’d allowed himself to believe in for a long time.
They returned to the chateau, where they called Kiran. She happened to be with Jalil, so they told them their news at the same time they told Oriel’s parents. Everyone was ecstatic to hear a baby was on the way.
“I’m going to be an auntie.” Kiran clapped with delight. “I can’t wait to hug my very own sister!”
“I’m excited for that, too, but I have commitments in New York,” Oriel said with an apologetic glance at Vijay. She had told him that as they’d been on their way to the registry office. “I have to meet with my agent, tell him everything that’s happened. Figure out what my career will look like moving forward.”
“Oh, but... Vijay, I thought you were coming home?” Kiran asked.
“I am.” He had barely finagled this week in France as it was. The building up of the Asian division was fully underway, and he’d been paid to ensure it went smoothly.
He didn’t like starting their marriage apart, though. It felt like they were getting off on the wrong foot, and his worst niggling doubts had resurfaced. He was trying to tell himself this was the sort of test that would be good for them in the long run—provided they passed it—but the separation still annoyed him.
“Vijay is bringing copies of everything my parents have on my adoption,” Oriel said. “Perhaps you and Jalil can find something that ties back to Gouresh Bakshi. My parents are happy to make inquiries on this end, but we don’t want to misstep and tip him off that you’re investigating how he might have behaved with Lakshmi.”
Jalil was pleased with that lead, and they soon signed off.
The rest of the day was relaxed, and Vijay tried not to think about the fact that they were flying in different directions the next morning, but when they made love that night, they were both more aggressive than usual. Oriel laid claim to him with her mouth and hands. He did everything he could to imprint on her that they were one.
They were both sweaty and near comatose after, but she woke him in the night, kissing him with a frantic urgency that lit his fire all over again.
He pried her nails out of his hair and pressed her hand to the mattress, pinning her with his weight. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid something will happen and I won’t see you again.”
“This won’t be like last time.” He sucked flagrantly on her earlobe and settled himself with proprietary ease between her soft thighs. “You’re my wife.”
He was an absolute Neanderthal because he loved saying that. My wife. Mine. “I would travel the world to come after you now. Don’t you know that?”
“I’ve always been fine traveling on my own. I like not answering to anyone, but it suddenly seems very lonely.”
“You’re not alone, priyatama.” He shifted so he could roam his hand across her stomach. He circled her navel with his thumb, then caressed up to her breast, cupping the warm swell. They kissed long and slow.
When she reached between them and guided him, he pressed into her heat.
They stayed locked like that a long time, shifting here and there, mostly kissing and caressing and reinforcing their bond. When he heard the sweet moan reverberate in her throat and her sheath clenched hungrily around his erection, he gave them both what they were aching for. He began to thrust with tender power.
As the storm brewed, he felt her growing tense beneath him.
“Wait,” he commanded raggedly, wanting them to hit the peak together. His lower back tingled, and a feral noise gathered in his throat. “Now.”
Her voice broke on a scream of agonized pleasure. They seemed caught in the stasis of orgasm for eternity. Wave after wave rolled through him while her body milked at his. He lost track of which one of them convulsed or moaned, which sobbed or made wordless noises of bliss. He knew only that they were in this singular place together.
And when they parted the next day, he went home with an empty ache inside him far bigger than the one she’d left in him last time.
A morose cloud descended on Oriel the minute she left Vijay. By the time she was in New York, she was struggling harder than she ever had in her life to find a smile.
Her priorities had completely shifted. Her mind was around the other side of the planet, wondering what her husband was doing. Her most important goal had become a need to put down roots so her baby would have a home when they arrived. All of her work commitments became obstacles to what she really wanted.
She sat down with Payton two days after arriving and told him everything.
His jaw went slack, but he was very understanding.
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t point out that you could capitalize on the connection,” he said in the middle of their discussion.
“No,” Oriel said firmly. “I know how many doors a famous mother opens, but I don’t want to do that to Lakshmi. I have a feeling she’s been exploited enough. No, the baby will be my priority for the next year, at least. I want to scale back. Cancel everything you can. If that means I have to start from scratch when I’m ready to work again, so be it.”
“You will never have to worry about that, but I hear what you’re saying.” He promised to begin making calls.
She phoned Vijay from the car afterward.
“You sound upset,” he noted. “I thought you were going to try to work while you were pregnant, not choose the nuclear option.”
“Yes, but as I sat there, I knew this was what I wanted. I’m teary because it was a big step, but it feels right. This way I can come to India and properly settle in. I haven’t stayed in one place for years.”
“You can get to know this part of yourself before India knows who you are,” he teased.
“Exactly. Has Jalil made any progress?”
“My sister, the frighteningly brilliant strategist, suggested Jalil send out letters to people who worked on Lakshmi’s films, claiming he wants to make a biopic and request interviews. It’s been a slow process tracking them down. A lot have retired or moved on to other things, but as word gets out in that community, Jalil expects more people will come forward.”
“That’s actually a great idea even if he didn’t have an ulterior motive. I would love to watch something like that. Could her estate fund it?”
“I’ll call him tomorrow and mention it.”
“Okay—Oh. I’m having lunch with an old friend, and I’ve just arrived at the restaurant.” The car pulled up to the curb. “He wants me to—”
“Tell me you’re making my dreams come true.” The silver-haired man who had been formulating exclusive skin care products for four decades opened her door.
“I’ll text you later,” she hurried to say to Vijay and ended her call.
She let Yosef help her from the car and kiss both her cheeks. He had hired her for her first magazine ad five years ago, and she wanted to tell him herself. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to break your heart. I’m going on hiatus from modeling. If you want me to pay for lunch, I completely understand.”
Six days later, Oriel was exhausted. She had one more shoot tomorrow before she could finalize things with Payton and leave New York. She was in the middle of modeling skiwear, trying not to sweat makeup onto the furred hood, when one of the hovering assistants said, “There’s an urgent call for Ms. Cuvier.”
Her mind immediately went to her parents. Oriel unwound from awkwardly grasping a pair of skis while standing in fake snow and took the phone.
“Bonjour?”
“It’s me,” Vijay said in a hard, flat tone. “Payton is on his way with someone from TecSec. Don’t leave until they get there. The news is out that Lakshmi was pregnant when she left for Europe.”
“What? How?”
“A cameraman from one of Bakshi’s film crews received Jalil’s letter about a biopic. He decided to cash in and sold the story that she was pregnant in My Heart Sings for You. It was her last film before she went to Europe, and it came out when she got back. He said she was sick on set, and everyone suspected. He assumed Bakshi was the father.”
They had already debunked that. Oriel’s DNA test had said she had forty percent Scandinavian heritage. “Has Gouresh made a statement?”
“No one can find him, but Kiran has set up a bunch of alerts, and your photo is already turning up in subthreads remarking on the resemblance.”
“No.” She looked for somewhere to sit and sank onto a closed trunk that held equipment. “How is Jalil?”
“Worried about them finding you before we have a chance to put protections around you. So am I. Payton said he can get you out of your last shoot if you want to. I’d like you here where I can see to your fences and firewalls myself. The alternative is the chateau, but...”
“Maman is starting a new tour. I’d rather be with you.”
“Good. I’ll start making your travel arrangements. Watch for a text.”
She ended the call and handed the phone to the assistant.
“Is everything all right?”
“Not really,” she said in a daze. “Let’s get what we can before I have to leave.”
Vijay’s new partner and the founder of TecSec, Roman Killian, arrived with Payton. Payton finalized the cancellation of her last contracts, and Killian escorted Oriel to her mother’s apartment, where she hurriedly packed. Then he brought her to the TecSec jet. His wife, Melodie, and their two children were already aboard.
Melodie was excellent company, and the toddlers provided a lovely distraction on the flight to Paris, where the family disembarked. Each of the children gave her a big hug that jump-started all of Oriel’s maternal instincts.
From there, she traveled with only a security detail and slept most of the way to Mumbai. By the time she was asked to sit up because the plane was descending, she had almost forgotten why she’d left New York in such a scampering hurry. She hadn’t found much online about Lakshmi’s possible pregnancy except a few sensationalized posts on gossip sites.
Oriel had been reading up on her biological mother every spare moment, absorbing the details of Lakshmi’s life with greedy fascination, and had watched a few films with subtitles. Everything reinforced that Lakshmi had been very popular and treasured as well as a talented singer and performer, but she seemed mostly a South Asian phenomenon, not known well internationally.
Watching her was a surreal experience. She seemed familiar, yet everything about her was completely different from the life Oriel had lived or the person she had believed herself to be.
Now Oriel was landing in a country that, under different circumstances, would have been her nation of birth. Her identity. She was eager to discover if it felt like home, but a greater uncertainty confronted her.
It was hitting her that she had completely overturned her life to be with a man who was still very much a stranger. As an only child, and one who had begun traveling for her career when she’d still been in school, she had a very independent spirit. It would be one thing to reshape her future around the love of her life. It was quite another to do it for passion. What if she’d made a horrible mistake?
Landing under low, soggy clouds that looked cold and unwelcoming did not reassure her. Where was the undo button for life? She had a sudden urge to backspace all the way to Milan and make different choices.
Not true, she assured the baby, patting where apprehensive butterflies were taking flight in her belly. She peeked out the window and saw Vijay on the tarmac below, stepping from an SUV with a practiced pop of a wide black umbrella.
The air hostess pressed a button to lower the hatch that formed the stairs, and a dozen impressions hit her at once.
The temperature wasn’t cold, merely rain-fresh cool. A gust brought in the fragrance of washed tarmac and wet earth. The patter of the rain was steady and musical, the humidity so tangible, her deep inhale rehydrated her, filling her with buoyant excitement.
And here was Vijay, taking the stairs in an easy stride, arriving in the opening with the umbrella so he provided a shelter to step into. Masculine scents radiated off him with the warmth of his body—spice and coffee and the damp cotton of his shirt as she stepped out of the plane.
She paused there, drinking in everything about this moment so she could remember it forever. She memorized the lights in the puddles and the green in the distance and the way her husband looked down at her, face filled with intriguing angles.
He took her breath away when he looked at her in that hooded way, holding his sensual mouth so tense and serious. His dark lashes flickered as he stole a very swift, proprietary glance to her toes and back, revealing nothing about his thoughts.
Even so, as she stood close to him, spatters of rain pelting them with the changeable wind, she felt as though she had arrived home—not because this country was in her blood, but because he was.
She had missed him. This was the place she had to be. It was a profound realization and yet one more way she was losing a piece of herself to the unknown.
If he had kissed her then, she would have laughed with joy, but a gust caught the umbrella and tipped it, sending a cold drizzle down her bare arm, startling her.
“Monsoon,” he said. “Welcome to India.”
She was so wrapped up in wanting him to show some sort of affection, she briefly thought the word was an endearment. As she realized her mistake, she ducked her head and wiped the trickle from her arm, embarrassed that she was behaving like a pubescent child wishing for a paper valentine.
The truth was, she wanted a lot more. She was falling in love with him, she realized with a catch of alarm.
It was too soon, too spontaneous, too new. It made her terrifyingly vulnerable when she had already sacrificed everything, but her heart had opened itself to him of its own accord. She had quit her old life because she wanted to be here, with him.
And his reception to all of that seemed very lukewarm.
Why don’t you want me? Why don’t you love me?
She tried not to be crestfallen, but she was.
“You are a true Mumbaikar if you’re willing to stand in the rain instead of running to where it’s dry.” He nodded an invitation for her to move ahead of him down the narrow steps.
She dredged up an uncertain smile to cover her disappointment. “I am ruining an expensive pair of shoes.”
Rain hit her ankles beneath the cuffs of her snapping wide-legged pants as she descended. Her sleeveless, light-knit mock turtleneck left her arms bare to the spits and spats that whipped off the breeze and stung her skin.
“Jalil has arranged a press conference at a hotel near here,” Vijay said as they settled in the SUV. “You’re up for it?”
No. She wanted to go somewhere private to reevaluate all her life choices, but she didn’t think she had the option to refuse.
“Of course.” She had already approved the press release and memorized the statement she would make. “I warned my parents what was happening, but do you really think people will care that much? I mean, beyond reporters.”
He looked at her as if she was very naive. “I do. Yes.”
He didn’t say anything else, but it wasn’t far to the hotel. Their car was met in the parking garage by four burly, expressionless men. Four. Plus two people wearing hotel security badges.
They were shown through a private corridor and past an open door to a kitchen, where a curious silence fell as they walked by. An excited babble rose in their wake.
She looked to Vijay and noted that his whole demeanor was on alert.
“Kiran wanted to be here, but I asked her to stay at the office so I can give my full attention to you and your safety.”
She began to realize he was actually working, wearing the role of protector in the most basic way. It was sweet, but she grew intimidated as they approached what sounded like a thousand voices beyond a wall. She unconsciously tightened her hand on the crook of his elbow.
As they reached a pair of doors where a handful of people were waiting, one looked up and made a noise of surprise.
Jalil turned and did a double take. He covered his mouth, and his dark eyes filled with tears. “Beti,” he breathed as he held out his hand to her. “You look just like her.”
“Please don’t make me cry.” She caught his hand in both of hers. “Not yet.”
They both laughed emotively, and he squeezed her hand so hard her rings dug into her fingers, but the pain helped her keep hold of her composure.
Someone offered to touch up her makeup while Jalil went into the room. The babble of voices nearly knocked her over, but they abruptly went silent as he was introduced.
Jalil began to speak in Hindi.
“He’s explaining that he had suspicions Lakshmi had a child,” Vijay translated for her. “And that she gave up the baby to protect her career, that she feared she and her baby wouldn’t be accepted if she kept it.”
“I can only speak English or French,” Oriel whispered in belated panic.
“English is fine. When Jalil called this, he said most of it would be conducted in English. Now he’s saying he’s confident Bakshi was not the father.”
“Has Bakshi been found?”
“No, he’s still in hiding.” He cocked his head. “He says he has confirmed that Lakshmi had a daughter because he has found her. You’re up.”
Oriel’s knees wanted to give out. She swallowed the worst stage fright of her life. It’s just a runway.
Walking for an audience had never bothered her beyond a few twinges of nerves, but her entire body became encased in ice. Her limbs felt disjointed as she allowed Vijay to escort her into the ballroom.
A collective gasp rippled over the hundred or so assembled reporters. Cameras flashed in a violent strobe. A babble of incomprehensible questions assaulted her ears.
She wore a resemblance, she told herself, in the same way she often wore an haute couture gown. That was what people were looking at, not her.
Her training came to her rescue, and she managed an aloof confidence as she joined Jalil at the podium and flashed her warmest smile.
“Good afternoon,” she said as Vijay’s men stepped in front of the microphone.
The room fell silent again.
“If you were surprised to learn that Lakshmi Dalal gave birth to me, you know exactly how I feel.”
It was exactly the right note of humor and humanity to win them over. The flashes continued, but she felt the shift in the room. The acceptance.
She read her statement and took a few questions. Then Jalil’s people ended the conference by providing contact information for further questions. As she walked out, someone was asking the reporters to please respect their privacy.
Jalil came with them in their car so they could have a few more minutes to chat. He knew she had been traveling for nearly a full day and needed time to take all of this in, so they made a date to have dinner with him and Kiran in a few days’ time.
As she and Vijay were dropped off, Jalil said he would continue on to “make a report to Kiran.”
“Make a report,” Vijay scoffed as they entered the elevator with the doorman who brought her luggage.
“Does it still bother you that they’re involved?” she asked.
“No,” he allowed. “Jalil is insisting they take their time because he worries about the age difference.”
“So did you,” she reminded him.
“True, but I’ve since seen that their personalities are well-suited. If they wished to marry, I would support their decision.”
He was speaking very objectively, reminding her of the night he’d asked her what her expectations of marriage were. Passion wasn’t a deal-breaker, he had said, but she had hoped it was still alive between them. So far, desire seemed the furthest thing from motivating his urgency in bringing her here.
Doubts were digging claws ever deeper into her as he opened the door into a penthouse and thanked the doorman, instructing him to leave the luggage in the entranceway.
“Oh. Wow.”
Vijay had told her over their daily video chats that he had found an apartment they could live in right away, with the option to buy. From the outside, the building had looked unremarkable, but this was a tasteful, modern oasis with endless views of the sea.
“It was renovated last year by one of our clients. It was actually two units and he combined them.” Vijay pointed at the loft to indicate it had two floors. “I made him an offer on condition you approve.”
If she hadn’t been feeling as though there was an invisible wall between them, she would have thrown her arms around him and squealed with delight.
The decor was understated, the furniture chic but comfortable. Sliding walls of glass were the only separation between indoors and the wide terrace that overlooked the Arabian sea. The dining, living and kitchen area were all one airy space with plenty of room for Kiran’s wheelchair if she decided to come live with them.
Oriel and Vijay had discussed it, and Oriel had no problem with sharing their home with Vijay’s sister. She had often roomed with complete strangers at different times and always made it work. Once the baby came, she would probably be very glad for an extra pair of hands. Besides, judging from the way things were going with Jalil, Kiran wouldn’t be with them for long.
For now, Kiran had chosen to stay in the lower level of a duplex that she and Vijay had called home for several years. The neighbors all treated her like family, and the home itself was fitted for her chair. Plus, Kiran said she wanted to give the newlyweds their privacy.
For what? Oriel had to wonder uneasily.
There was an elevator to the upper floor, but they walked up the floating staircase to a loft with a small sitting area beneath a skylight. They passed two spare bedrooms and a home gym before entering a master suite fronted by a wall of glass. It opened onto a private terrace that had a small landscaped garden as well as another stunning view of the sea.
Oriel moved to the part of the rail that was protected by an overhang and instantly imagined walking out here every single morning, drinking coffee, tasting the day.
“You’re not saying anything.” He was still wearing that watchfulness. She was beginning to think it had less to do with his security persona and more to do with whatever was going on in his own head. But what was that?
“It’s incredible,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You know it is.”
“The security system is first class,” he said dryly as he joined her at the rail. “The location is excellent. One of the best maternity hospitals in the city is nearby.”
“That’s good,” she murmured.
They both stood there watching the rain.
“Oriel—”
“Do you want me here?” she asked over him.
“What?” He angled to look down his nose at her. “Of course.” His voice was brisk, though, and his gaze went out to the gray horizon, where low clouds hung against chopping waves. “Why do you ask?” His demeanor was as cool and colorless as the rain.
She felt callow admitting it. Defenseless because she couldn’t hide the fact she was hurt. “You didn’t...kiss me when I arrived.”
Thankfully, he didn’t laugh at her. She might have gone straight back to the airport if he had. Even so, as he looked at her with vague bewilderment, a scorched self-consciousness rose behind her breastbone.
“We’re not like Europe. Public affection isn’t customary here.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t even thought of the cultural differences she would face with this move. She might look like she had been born here, but she was French. Being demonstrative in public was very natural to her. “I have a lot to learn.”
“We’re a nation of people who live in multigenerational homes, so it’s kept behind closed doors out of respect for our elders. I honestly don’t recall ever seeing my parents kiss, not because their marriage was arranged. It just wasn’t done.”
“Oh.” She started to relax, but realized, “You still haven’t, though.” Fresh shyness struck, and her cheeks stung with a painful blush. “Kissed me, I mean.”
“I know.” His voice had returned to being clipped. He moved back to the door into the bedroom.
Her heart lurched at the way he was putting that distance between them.
He lightly tapped his loose fist on the frame. “I hate myself for asking, but I have to.” He pinned her with his steady gaze. “Who was he?”
She was taken aback. “Who?”
“The man whose dreams you were making come true.”
She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know—”
“Lunch. You left Payton’s office and you were going to meet an old friend for lunch.”
“Yosef!” she recalled, then stood tall with instant outrage. “He’s nearly seventy, Vijay. He gave me my first magazine shoot, and yes, I wore a negligee back then, but he never once made me feel cheap about it. Unlike you. Do you really think I was stepping out on you days after we married? Mon Dieu, when you said you didn’t trust easily, you should have explained you meant there was none at all.”
She tried to brush past him into the bedroom. He put out a hand to stop her, and she thrust his arm away. She glared at him, daring him to touch her again.
“I don’t want to be like this,” he said through his teeth.
“Then don’t,” she threw back at him and stalked toward the bed. “Should I feel the sheets?” She patted the blankets. “See if they’re still warm from whoever you’ve been with?”
His mouth tightened. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. There was no one between meeting you in Milan and finding you in Cannes, either,” he clarified.
“Same.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Do you believe me?” Let him try and say he didn’t.
“Damn it, Oriel, I had someone cheat on me. I know it’s weak of me to be suspicious, but I can’t stand the idea that I might not be seeing what’s right under my nose.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw before dropping his hands onto his hips. He stared out the open doors as though seeing a past he couldn’t change.
She was still angry, but an even more insidious sense of threat crept into her.
“Who? How long were you together?”
“Her name is Wisa. We met at university and wanted to finish our degrees before we married.”
“So you were...” She had assumed he would have a romantic history, but, “You were engaged?” She covered the sick knot that arrived in her middle.
“Yes. The wedding was days away when we called it off. She was sleeping with my best friend. I found out as the rest of my life fell apart over my father’s crimes. The worst part is—”
That wasn’t the worst part? She dragged her gaze up to his shuttered expression.
“I realized later that she had likely been steered toward me in an attempt to have influence over me when I took control of my father’s business.”
“Oh.” She touched the night table for balance. “That is awful.”
“I don’t think she knew what was going on any more than I did.” He brushed a tired hand through the air. “On the surface, we seemed very compatible, nothing to raise my suspicion. I was the heir to a successful company, and she was the daughter of a local politician. I took my degree in business with a minor in electronical engineering. She thought I should plan to go into politics. That was our only bone of contention.”
Oriel was still reeling. He’d been days away from a wedding. Relationships didn’t get that far unless hearts were involved.
Vijay shrugged out of his jacket and threw it onto a chair in the corner.
“After Kiran, Wisa was the first person I told about my father’s business dealings. Initially she supported my going to the police, but as our friends began to distance themselves, and she realized her uncle might be implicated, I caught her on a call with Madin. It was obvious they were involved. She said it was my fault, that I had ruined our future. Everyone’s future. That I drove her to Madin. We canceled the wedding, and she stuck me with the bills as a final slap in the face.”
“Were you in love with her?” The question came out before she had fully braced herself for the answer.
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “I was.”
Her heart plummeted like a shot bird. “Are you still?”
“No,” he dismissed firmly. “But I’m suspicious of that emotion, as you saw with my reaction to Jalil’s interest in Kiran.” He pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “I can’t help thinking it’s a smoke screen that people use to get whatever it is they really want.”
That’s why he had asked her what she wanted from marriage. He didn’t intend to give her his heart. It was a surprising blow. He didn’t want to love her. Wouldn’t.
She pressed a hand over the spot where she felt as though a knife was lodged in her chest. When she tried to speak, she had to gulp in air first.
“Love can be used like that,” she acknowledged, hugging herself. “My first boyfriend was only using me to get close to my mother’s theater connections.” It still made her feel like the worst naive fool for not seeing it. “I fell for it because...” She worked to keep her mouth from turning down. “Because I wanted that big love. You know? Theone.”
He flinched and looked away guiltily.
“Don’t. This isn’t about you and your limitations. This is something I want you to understand about me.” She hunched up her shoulders defensively. “I’ve always struggled with not feeling that I was loved enough. Otherwise she would have kept me. Right?” Tears rose in her eyes.
“That’s not true.” His shoulders sank, and he came toward her, reaching to cup her elbows.
She pressed her hand to his chest, holding him off.
“Even if it was, you’ve seen how much my parents love me. They would do anything for me, which makes me feel even worse for having these fears. But it’s a normal thing a lot of adopted children struggle with. We worry that we were at fault somehow. It’s irrational and complex and confusing, but that’s how I realized I was susceptible to letting that feeling take over. Ever since that boyfriend treated me that way, I’ve been cautious about giving up too much of myself. I don’t like getting hurt, either.”
He pulled his head back slightly as if her words had shaken him at some level. Then he gave a jerky nod of understanding. His hands tightened on her elbows.
“I was only asking a question. It wasn’t an accusation. I don’t think you’re cheating on me. I just needed to hear from you that it was nothing.”
“It was nothing.”
“Thank you.” His hands twitched as though he wanted to pull her close while still trying to give her space. “But Oriel, look at the lengths Jalil has gone to find you. He wouldn’t have done that if his sister hadn’t seemed tortured by losing you. You were wanted. You were loved.”
Her composure crumpled, and she went into his arms.
He held her secure, stroking her and saying, “I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you today. I want you all the damned time. Never doubt that.”
She gave a small sob and looked up at him. “Even like this? All weepy and messy?”
He framed her face in his warm, broad hands. “All the damned time,” he repeated.
“Then kiss me.” She lifted on tiptoe and offered her tear-dampened lips.
He closed his arms around her and opened his mouth across hers. As his flavor seeped into her senses, all her reservations eased.
Then, as their kiss deepened, sharp need twisted inside her. Vijay slanted his mouth for a deeper seal, and between one breath and the next, their kiss yanked her into a maelstrom of want.
For one moment, he let her feel the ferocity of his desire as he plundered her mouth, arms tight as he crushed her hips into the aroused shape behind his fly.
He seemed to exert all his will as he made himself ease his hold and lift his head.
“You should get some rest. You must be tired.”
“What happened to ‘all the damned time’?”
With an agile twist, he had them both on the bed.
“Oh!”
“Yes, oh.” He tucked her beneath him. “If you are too tired, now would be a good time to say so.”
“I’m a little bit tired. You might have to do all the work.”
“That, my beautiful wife, would be my pleasure.”
A few nights later, Vijay took Oriel to meet Kiran and Jalil at one of Mumbai’s most exclusive restaurants. The pair had been over to visit twice already, and Vijay had been going to work, but Oriel had been staying in the penthouse while she acclimatized.
They’d also been making love nonstop because they couldn’t seem to help themselves. He had no complaints about that, but he did suspect they were expressing themselves physically because they didn’t know how to do it verbally.
He was still disturbed by what she’d said about wanting the “big” love. The one. He had known there was a romantic hidden deep inside her, but he hadn’t appreciated how fragile her heart was. Her amazing front of confidence hid any hint of insecurities. He was glad she had spelled out for him where she struggled, but he was also—very hypocritically—frustrated that she had developed her own inner guards to protect herself. It made it that much harder for them to be sure of one another.
It would all come with time, he assured himself. For now, she was feeling cooped up, and he was eager to show her his city and show the world his wife.
Of course, she caused a stir the minute they hit the street.
It was more annoying than anything. They had a security detail. He wasn’t concerned about her safety to any serious degree, but he suspected this would wear on her long-term.
At least the restaurant was used to catering to Bollywood celebrities and other high-profile clientele. It was candlelit with glinting reflections dancing off glossy floors and mirrored tiles in the wall mosaic. Partial walls of wooden slats absorbed sound and formed partitions that created pockets of privacy.
Heads turned as they were shown to their table, but Oriel seemed unfazed.
“You’re taking this in stride,” Vijay remarked as they settled at their table.
“The attention? I forgot it was for me,” she said with a blink of bemusement. “The same thing happens when I go anywhere with Maman. I’ve learned to ignore it.”
They all chuckled, and it turned into a pleasant, relaxing meal. They were finishing dessert when Kiran’s smile stiffened.
“Someone must have posted that we were here. Why else would she show up?”
“Who?” Oriel asked.
Vijay knew without looking and stiffened, watching for Oriel’s reaction as his past literally caught up to him.
“Vijay, Kiran.” Wisa’s voice was a smug purr. “What are you two doing in this part of the city?”
“Wisa. Madin.” Vijay rose to greet his ex-fiancée and his ex-best friend, determined to be nothing but polite. “Please meet my wife, Oriel. And our good friend, Jalil Dalal.”
“Ah, yes. Such a colorful story. It’s everywhere.” Wisa’s gaze widened on Oriel as though she was an exotic animal, a curiosity, but something to be dismissed. “You do have a way of making headlines, don’t you?” she said pithily to Vijay.
It was exactly the sort of sly, denigrating remark she and everyone else had made when he had refused to look the other way over his father’s transgressions. Anything to put him down.
He was about to set her in her place once and for all when Oriel spoke up.
“Would you like a photo?” She sent a friendly nod to someone beyond Wisa.
They all glanced to see that an elderly woman in a saree was watching Oriel with a delighted smile of recognition.
“I’ll come there.” Oriel rose and brushed past Wisa, saying, “I don’t want to offend her.” She paused and set a delightfully possessive hand on Vijay’s shoulder. “This would be a good time to make an escape, or I’ll be here all night. You should buy their dinner, though.” She nodded at Wisa and Madin. “Make it up to them that we can’t stay.”
“I’d love to.”
The look on Wisa’s face was worth whatever they charged to his credit card.
“That was savagely brilliant,” he said when he and Oriel were in the back of his car on their way home.
“It’s from my mother’s bag of tricks. I felt petty resorting to it.”
“You shouldn’t. The family at the other table was happy.” They’d been over the moon that their grandmother had been singled out and fussed over by a celebrity. “Wisa will think twice before driving across the city to make things awkward for us ever again.”
“Holding on to a grudge like that suggests she still has feelings for you.” She glanced across at him, eyes wary and watchful.
“Her uncle had to pay a fine and narrowly missed going to jail. I imagine she believes I still deserve punishment for that.”
“Why? Her uncle was the one who broke the law,” she muttered impatiently.
“Thank you.” He reached across to squeeze her hand, so moved that his chest felt tight and he had to swallow a lump from his throat. “Anytime I have to revisit that episode in my life, I feel sick. I thought I was a law-abiding, principled sort of man and had to decide if I really was. It was sobering to be put to the test, and when I stood by what I thought was right, I was vilified and abandoned. It means everything to me that you didn’t give her a chance to spit poison in your ear.”
“I should have thanked her,” she mused. “If she hadn’t been so self-interested, you’d be married to her, and I wouldn’t have you or our baby or know any of this about myself.”
Neither would he, Vijay realized with a catch of fierce possessiveness for her, their baby, and the life they were starting.
Recognizing that flashed a fresh light on all he’d been through, searing away much of his resentment and anguish. His ever-present shame died a final death, becoming cold, flaky ashes. From now on, it would be a bitter and sooty memory, but not one that still had the ability to scorch and burn him.
“But honestly?” Oriel said with annoyance. “She was kind of a bitch. ‘What are you two doing in this part of the city?’ Like she owns it. I don’t actually feel bad for snubbing her.”
He chuckled and tugged her across the seat, into his arms. “I felt great about it.” In fact, he felt as though he was falling in love, and he wasn’t that unsettled by the prospect.