The Deceit

CHAPTER 22

VISHNU

It hadn’t even been 24 hours since I saw Simran at her lowest, and my day was already spiralling into chaos. First, Abhay casually dropped the bomb that Zane had once proposed to her—seriously, the audacity of him to think he had a chance with my woman. Then, I made the impulsive decision to barge into her dinner meeting at Trattoria Venezia, just to get a look at this man. I hated the jealousy clawing at me, but I couldn’t just sit back and ignore it.

Simran’s world—this stylish new life she had in New York—seemed to fit so perfectly with someone like Zane Miller. He looked like a model: clean-cut, polished, and sharply dressed, someone who fit her glamorous social circle to a T. And then, there was me—raw, rugged, and moulded by a completely different reality.

I had come here just to observe them and ordered a drink I had no intention of touching. The way Zane carried himself, the ease with which he talked, was a stark reminder of my own rougher edges. In my world of Indian politics, raw power held more value than refined manners. But here, watching him with Simran, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was the kind of man she truly deserved.

When he touched her hand during their discussion, I saw Simran pull away, but the casual intimacy of the gesture, the fact that he could touch her so easily made my blood boil. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay seated. But when I saw Zane hug her, then lean in to lift her hand and kiss it, something inside me snapped. He wasn’t just stepping into her space; he was stepping into mine. That territorial instinct, the one I can barely control when it comes to Simran, roared to life. I had no plan to disrupt her meeting. I was content watching her from a distance, simmering in my own emotions. But when he crossed that line, I couldn’t stop myself from shoving him away from her.

Simran had immediately intervened, and I was thrilled that she introduced me as her fiancé. But when she apologised to him for my behaviour, my anger flared all over again. Her apology felt like a betrayal, as if she didn’t mind Zane’s actions and instead found fault in mine, which I couldn’t tolerate.

And now, she was storming away, furious at the scene I had caused.

I follow her, equally angry, but not before giving Zane one final warning glare.

“Simran, wait!” I call after her, but she keeps walking, heading toward a dark alley instead of the parking lot.

She doesn’t stop. Of course, she doesn’t. That’s her—stubborn to the core. Frustrated, I quicken my pace and catch up to her. I turn her around, but she glares at me and shrugs off my touch.

“I can’t believe this,” she spits out. “Is this how you’re going to behave from now on? We’re not even married yet, and you’re already gatecrashing my business meetings and behaving like a caveman? It seems like you have a problem with all my male clients and friends.”

“I don’t have a problem with your male clients or friends,” I growl. “But Abhay told me about Zane, something you conveniently forgot to tell me. He proposed to you once, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did, but so what?” she fires back. “Plenty of men have proposed to me over the time, and I’m still on cordial terms with most of them because they’re from my known circle. So what if I meet them, Vishnu? So what?” she bellows.

“So what?” My voice rises with anger. “I’ve never let a woman get that close to me, and I certainly don’t kiss anyone’s hand like that, Simran. And here you are, allowing men like Zane to kiss your hand like that. And the thing is, you don’t even seem to have a problem with it?”

In an instant, she’s in my space, her fists gripping my suit collar. The fire in her eyes matches my own.

“How dare you say that,” she hisses. “Even I don’t allow any man to get close to me the way I’ve let you in. Do you think I go around flirting with every man the way I do with you? Do you think anyone else has ever come close to what we had?”

Her grip tightens as she continues, “I’ve only had two relationships in my entire life, both back in college, and neither of them was serious. For years, I’ve had no time for relationships. My work, my career—it’s all I’ve focused on. And then, you came into my life. You weren’t just a spark, Vishnu. You were a flame. And no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t put out that flame.”

Her voice softens a bit, but the intensity is still there.

“Do you really think that after everything that happened between us, I could ever think of any other man besides you? No, Vishnu. I never could... because I never wanted anyone else like I want you. You’re always in my head, right from the moment we entered each other’s space.”

She releases my collar but doesn’t step back.

“And about Zane… that hand kiss you stopped? It’s just a formal gesture in my world. Air kisses, cheek kisses… all of that is perfectly normal here in America. It’s a business greeting, nothing more. I know your thoughts are old school, but that doesn’t mean you can judge my outlook or my lifestyle here. I won’t tolerate it. You need to understand that not everyone is crossing a line. Zane knows how I feel about him, and he’s accepted that. He’s just a friend. His gestures were nothing but polite.”

I clench my fists, trying to control the storm of emotions raging within me.

“I don’t care if it’s polite or not,” I say through gritted teeth. “The moment I saw him touch you like that, I wanted to break every bone in his body.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms across her chest. “You can’t react like this every time I meet a man, Vishnu. We’re getting married, yes, but if you keep interfering like this, it’s going to make things really difficult between us. Please… try to change the way you think and react in situations like this.”

Her words hit me hard. She’s trying to challenge my behaviour and demand that I change. I stand there, torn between anger and the dawning realisation that maybe—just maybe—I overreacted. In my world, gestures like that always mean something. But here, in her world, it’s different. Maybe I need to learn how her world operates.

“I’m not trying to control you,” I say finally, my voice softer now. “But seeing you with someone else, even if it’s just business—it messes with my head.”

Her expression softens, and for the first time since our argument began, she steps closer, her hand resting lightly on my chest.

“Vishnu, I’m not with anyone else. I haven’t been, and I never will be. You’re the only one in my life. But you need to trust me.”

Trust? It’s something I’ve struggled with ever since I found out about Veer, ever since I realised how much she’d hidden from me.

I feel her delicate fingers slowly withdrawing from my chest, probably realising how difficult it is for me to put my trust in her. Without thinking, I capture her wrists before they slip away, firmly bringing them back to rest over my thundering heart. The warmth of her skin against mine is both comforting and consuming. Simran’s eyes meet mine, those expressive orbs filled with a storm of emotions that mirror the chaos in my own mind.

“Listen carefully,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Personal or professional, if I see any man crossing the line when it comes to you, I will react the same way I did today.” The possessiveness in my tone surprises even me, but I can’t—won’t—take it back. “I don’t care if it’s normal in your world. This is who I am, and I can’t just change overnight—not easily, and definitely not so soon. So get used to it.”

I watch as fury blazes across her face, her features hardening with each word I speak. Behind her, I catch Abhay’s eye and signal for him to bring the car around. We need to end this conversation now before it combusts.

“We need to co-exist,” Simran bites out, her jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. “Which means if I’m willing to step back from certain things you don’t like... so should you.”

Our gazes lock, and before I can respond, my phone rings. Ayaan’s name flashes on the screen. I can’t afford to miss this call. Just then, the car pulls up beside us. I reach for the back door and hold it open for Simran. She hesitates before sliding in, her movements stiff with anger. She clearly expects us to continue this argument during our ride home, but instead of joining her, I close the door—perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

“Take her home,” I instruct Abhay before turning to Simran and shooting her one last pointed glare through the window. The message is clear: this discussion is over from my end.