& Then They Loved (Ampersand Love #3)

37. Spotlight

37

Spotlight

Vera

S triding briskly towards the waiting crew, Vera congratulated herself on having ended the conversation on her terms.

This time, there wouldn’t be any self-recrimination. She would not spend endless hours replaying the same conversation in her head, losing sleep at night as she obsessed over what she could have said to retain her self-respect. Unlike fourteen years ago, she hadn’t fallen weak. Had she perhaps been cruel? Yes. But she’d been unable to take the high road. He’d ripped them apart all over a misunderstanding. She wasn’t kind enough to forgive that so quickly.

The pain Vihaan had inflicted upon her all those years ago—today, she’d finally repaid that debt.

I’ll be on my knees for you everyday. Tell me how to earn you back.

Her breath broke out in a soft shudder when she remembered his words. She had wanted to humble him by commanding him to kneel. She had never expected his submission. Goosebumps washed over her when she recollected his abject capitulation to her demand. He had never before acceded to her so easily. So willingly.

She had walked away today with her pride intact.

I should feel elated, she thought miserably as a crew member pinned a mic to her lapel, preparing her for the interview she was to participate in. Then why don’t I?

She’d spent the weekend in tears, feeling like a fool for getting her hopes up about Vihaan. His sweet words had painted a pretty picture and she’d been swept up in the romance of it, in the possibility of finding happiness and love again. Until he’d brought up forgiving her. And then, he’d mentioned providing material security in return for her loyalty. In that moment, she’d been transported back into his bedroom all those years ago, holding the pieces of her broken heart, having no clue why she was being so cruelly rejected by the boy she’d loved so deeply. Wondering what she’d done for him to have cheapened her love and debased it by offering money for sex.

Sniffling inconspicuously, she blinked away the stinging behind her eyes, knowing that breaking down now would draw too many looks and questions to which she had no answer. She glanced beside her where the director and editor of the series sat, both men chatting affably while the make-up team bounced around, doing touch-ups.

Upper management had determined that an informal, round-couch interview between the team behind the SSI series and the project sponsor who was also the new face of Ethos, would be a good way to generate excitement for the first broadcast. The marketing team had done a tremendous job in advertising today’s shoot. The studio was full, and somewhere within the crowds was the only person who mattered to her.

She twisted her neck to look towards the top of the auditorium at the private viewing booth behind which family members of the SSI team had been invited to gather. At the very front, sitting in a wheelchair, was her sweet grandfather, his care nurse standing right behind.

Vera had wanted so badly for Ambernath to see her during the live recording, but her request had been rejected. The care centre, she was told, did not have the capacity to release any personnel to accompany Nanu into the city, nor the means of transportation that would prove least stressful to him. Limited by funds to arrange this privately, Vera had been beyond upset, finally reconciling herself with the disappointing realisation that she wouldn’t be able to share her success with the man she loved most. Being surprised with his arrival at the green room that morning had rendered her speechless. The head nurse had managed to sneak her grandfather out and when asked how, all Vera had gotten was an ambivalent answer about it being a surprise. Whatever the reason, she’d been feeling all kinds of happy, nervous, and excited, until Vihaan pulled his Houdini act.

Speak of the devil, a little voice in her head hummed when she saw him coming up on stage to take a seat on the single couch to her left. Despite the space between them, her body tingled when their eyes met. After their tense conversation, to have to sit in front of a live audience and pretend that she was having the best time working with him was going to be difficult in more ways than one. It was through sheer will and some intense eye-contact avoidance that she made it through a majority of the recording without issues. She listened quietly as their editor asked him yet another scripted question.

“And how did you enjoy the process, Mr. Oberoi, now that you’ve seen what goes on behind the scenes?”

“It was eye-opening. I do think I was relegated to glorified help at one point.” The public tittered as he shot them a sheepish shrug to show he was embarrassed. Despite the strife between them, Vera had to admit that the man knew how to work a crowd. He’d managed to charm a room full of people with how witty and approachable he made himself seem. Her sights tracked his perfect coif, down his straight nose and strong jaw, eventually drifting to his hands. The slight dusting of dark hair on the back did not hide the veins that popped against his tawny skin when he laced his fingers, thumbs pressed upwards in a peak. She studied the flex of his muscle as he shifted, barely hidden under a steel-grey suit that should be outlawed for how distracting it was. Vera was certain that if they took a poll, the female half of the audience wouldn’t recall a single word anyone else had said but would be able to write sonnets about Vihaan’s responses, his devilish good-looks, and that cheeky smile that could fool anyone into thinking they had a chance with him.

She jerked softly, scalded by the sudden twinge of jealousy. Thankfully, he was too busy addressing their rapt crowd to notice her shock.

“The team has been incredible to work with. Being in the trenches with them was an honour and I’m glad to tell you that I’m still employed,” he added, making everyone laugh. “It’s a happy ending in my books.”

“What an oxymoron,” she scoffed.

Cinnamon eyes swung in her direction, locking upon her like she had a target marked on her forehead. She wished she could turn back time and stuff a fist down her throat. What in the world had possessed her to poke this panther? He’d caught her scent, and she could only hope she was fast enough to lose him.

“We all love a good story that ends on a positive note,” the series director added, throwing smiles around to help smoothen the sudden hump in their conversation.

“Do you believe in happy endings?” she asked the crowd, playing along. She’d deviated from her lines, but some devil within her wanted to see him as discomfited as she was. How dare he be all charm and sunshine while she sat here with a storm cloud above her? “Do you, Mister Oberoi?”

The lightness in Vihaan’s posture faded at her emphasis, his shoulders stiffening. “Not exactly, though it is a nice concept. ”

“Back to the sequence of episodes—” their editor piped up, trying to redirect the interview to familiar grounds.

“Ask me why,” Vihaan interrupted, leaning forward in his seat, his entire body facing Vera. The respectable two feet of distance between them suddenly felt too little.

The low tone and the glint of challenge in his eyes was enough to ruffle her into asking, “Why, what?”

Vera heard the shuffles and saw the confused looks shared by the filming crew around them. The teleprompters were switching cards, unsure what was happening since two out of the four-person panel had now veered off script. The other half on stage remained mum, leaning back in their seats, their eyes bouncing around helplessly.

“Ask me why I don’t believe in happy endings,” Vihaan prompted.

“Because it’s a lie,” she scoffed with a sarcastic tilt of her lips. “Happy endings sound good for movies and books. Not real life.”

“You continue to be one of the smartest women in a room,” he replied, his unexpected praise causing a furious heat to rise up her body. “I agree with you. That is why I would much rather believe in happily-ever-afters.”

“Wonderful,” she gritted out, hating that he’d managed to throw her off kilter instead of the other way around. “I am certain Stork Publications will see a marked rise in their romance book sales tomorrow with your statement.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you are a good businessman who knows exactly what your audience wants to hear.”

“Whether or not you meant it as such, I’ll take that as a compliment, Ms. Talwar. My audience ,” he stressed, giving her a look that made it patently obvious who he was addressing, “may or may not accept it. But it is my truth. I’ve experienced an ending already and I want an ‘ever-after’ now.”

“What does that mean? ”

Vihaan’s laugh was short, a single bark that was laced with sadness. Was she the only one who heard it? No one else seemed to notice anything awry but the contemplative way in which he was observing her made her skin prickle in premonition.

“It means I want a happily-ever-after.”

With you.

She read his silence as if he’d spoken it out loud. The intensity of his gaze upon hers did not abate and the steady percussion of her heart morphed into a heavy-metal concert.

The crowd—silent at first—began to whisper, their murmurs building like a rock rolling down a snowy mountain, gathering debris in its path, growing into an inescapable avalanche that was headed their way.

She swung a gaze across the restless room, her confusion echoed on Vihaan’s face when a crew member rushed to him, whispering in his ear with an urgency that set her on guard. She watched as he hurriedly whipped out his phone, a quiet curse escaping him.

“What’s going on?”

His worried gaze locked with hers. Wordlessly, he extended his phone toward her, his screen opened to a social media site with the word ‘breaking’ splashed across the top of a photo in a glaring red font.

She gasped, horrified when she realised the picture was of her from the green room. With Vihaan on his knees and a caption that made it seem like it was a. . . secret proposal?!

One would think that all these years of busting her ass to project the image of a confident and capable professional would’ve taught her how to respond appropriately under pressure. How mistaken she was.

“What the hell is this?”

Vihaan’s grim face was unreadable. His hand covered the mic at his lapel before he spoke up, forgetting that hers was still on. “You wanted me to kneel before you, and I did. Now, the world sees it too.”

“Huh?”

She’d lost all capacity to formulate sentences. She felt trapped within a bubble that could pop at any moment. The heat of the spotlight grew unbearable, sweat dotting her forehead as she blinked, willing her thundering heart to settle and her wits to return. This was fixable, wasn’t it?

Her surprise took a sharp turn when the furor beyond the stage caught her eye, their whispers finally loud enough to reach her ears—

“What’re they saying?”

“Did he propose?”

“She just said haan.”

“Haan? That’s a yes!”