Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
SUNAINA
I sneezed loudly, and there was a chorus of Bless You from the people gathered around the kitchen island. I glared at them in response because this was all their fault. If they hadn’t overreacted to a couple of stupid articles, I wouldn’t have almost drowned in a lake.
“Don’t be mad, Aunty Sue. You look like a mermaid,” said Aisha, holding up her iPad. “Look.”
“No, thank you, baby,” I said, blowing my nose loudly. “I’ve seen enough for a lifetime. No more damage control! I don’t care what anyone says about the state of our marriage.”
“Oh, hush,” snapped Sufi. “Look how much love you’re getting online.”
He had posted the pics two hours ago, and they were already viral. I didn’t know what magic Sufi did, but the images he shared painted a very romantic picture of our marriage. Except for the one where Viren looked like a chiselled Greek god with his wet, white shirt plastered to his broad chest, and I looked like a beached whale as he carried me out of the water.
“Now, what do we want to do tomorrow?” he asked and I shuddered in reply.
“Why are you trying to kill me, babe? Isn’t it enough that I almost drowned for you today?”
Sufi merely snorted in reply.
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now. Both of you. So quit whining and blow your nose one last time. You need to get better in time for an exhibition at the National Gallery tomorrow night. I think we should go full glam this time. Black tie for Mr C and a Valentino gown for you with red lips,” he mused.
“Why is Aunty Tahira still here?” grumbled Aisha.
“She’s your Daadi’s guest, beta,” said Daya Bua gently.
“She’s never going to leave, is she?” asked Aisha in despair.
“Looks like it,” said Daya Bua, with a meaningful glance at Viren.
“What can I do? I can hardly kick her out when Chachi invited her to stay,” he said defensively.
Hmph! He could if he wanted to. I gave the back of his head an extra strong glare as I walked past him on my way to the kettle. This house must have been built by giants, I groused silently as I stood on my tippy toes to reach for a mug.
I felt a sudden warmth behind me and Viren reached up quite easily to grab the mug for me.
“Here you go, shorty,” he said with a grin as he handed it to me.
I took him and slammed it on the counter before I threw in a masala chai teabag and filled it with hot water. Viren stared at the contents of the mug in horror.
“Why are you drinking that crap?”
“Because my throat hurts, and I have a cold,” I said crankily.
He rolled his eyes in response and snatched the mug out of my hand before he fished the teabag out and threw it in the bin. He poured the tea into the sink and pulled out another mug.
“What are you doing? I needed that tea,” I complained.
“That wasn’t tea. That was dirty dishwater. I’ll make you a proper cup of masala tea to soothe your throat,” he said, and I gaped at him in surprise.
“You?”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding offended.
“Viren Chaudhry, the billionaire and music mogul who has staff to cater to all his needs, is offering to make me a cup of tea. It’s enough to make anyone’s head spin,” I said snidely.
He rolled his eyes again and nudged me out of the way with his hip. I ignored the heat that sparked up my body from that playful little touch and stared at him suspiciously.
“Are you trying to poison me just because you want to avoid the divorce settlement?”
“For fuck’s sake, go and sit down before you make my head explode,” he snarled, and I smirked at him slowly.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
Now it was his turn to sound suspicious.
“For what?”
“For the tea. And for saving my life earlier.”
His gaze dropped to my lips, and I could swear he bent his head a little. Daya Bua coughed loudly from the kitchen island, and we jumped apart with a start.
“I’ll go and sit down,” I said hastily, as Viren began grating some ginger into a saucepan.
What the hell was wrong with me, I wondered, not for the first time since I had married this man. How could I forget that Aisha was in the room? As for the whole bending his head for a kiss thing, it was just wishful thinking. I had made that mistake before, and look where it led us. But I hadn’t imagined the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at my lips, and for some reason, I couldn’t get it out of my head.
“What is Viren doing?” asked Daya Bua in surprise.
“He’s making me a cup of tea,” I said awkwardly.
She and Sufi turned to stare at him openmouthed.
“What’s the big deal?” I muttered. “It’s only a cup of tea.”
“Babe, I have never seen Mr C lift a finger in the kitchen at home. And now he’s suddenly pounding spices for masala chai. This is totally a photo op,” exclaimed Sufi, pulling out his phone.
“It’s private, Sufi,” I said softly, pushing his hand down.
I didn’t know why, but the fact that Viren was doing something so unlike him just for me felt very precious, and I wanted to hide it from the world.
“Let me do that, beta,” said Daya Bua, rushing to help him as if the world would end if the big, bad billionaire made some chai.
“You’re on holiday too, Daima. Go and sit down with the others,” he replied sternly.
She looked stunned as she joined us at the kitchen island. When the chai was ready, Viren poured it into mugs and brought it to us. He winked at me as he handed me my mug, and I blushed in response. It was just a cup of tea, I told myself sternly. There was no reason to blush like a schoolgirl.
I took a hasty sip of the steaming hot beverage and realised everyone was staring at me for my reaction.
“It’s great,” I said, blushing again, and Viren gave me a slow smile that set my heart pounding.
That man and his dimple were a menace to society. And yet, I couldn’t take my eyes off either.
“What a cosy little scene,” said Tahira coldly from the doorway, and it was as if someone had doused me with cold water.
“Would you like a cup of tea, beta?” asked Daya Bua politely.
“No, thank you. I’m here to steal Viren,” she said, looking directly at me. “For the rest of the evening, I mean.”
Oh, please. We all knew what the bitch meant. She was throwing down in public. I kept my face impassive and returned her stare calmly.
“I’m afraid I’m taken, Tahira,” replied Viren. “I’m spending the rest of the evening with my wife.”
Daima and Sufi gave him approving smiles, but Tahira looked furious before she forced a smile on her face.
“Are you guys doing anything interesting?”
“Sunaina’s feeling slightly under the weather after our little accident in the park, so I’m going to keep her in bed all night,” he said wickedly.
Daya Bua choked on her chai as Sufi covered Aisha’s ears. She couldn’t help giggling when Daya Bua shot Viren an admonishing look. Tahira, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to throw up.
“How dull,” she murmured. “Anyway, you know where to find me if you get bored.”
I wondered if I could get away with stabbing her with a kitchen knife. Probably not. So I bit my tongue and sipped on my chai.
I didn’t know why I was taking this so personally. I didn’t own Viren. He was free to spend time with the chudail if he wished to, but the way she went about staking her claim over him was disrespectful in the extreme. So what if she suspected our relationship was fake? It was still very rude of her to flirt with Viren so openly.
When he didn’t reply to her invitation, she slunk out of the room with a resentful glance at me.
“Come on, wifey. Drink up your chai and get into bed. I was serious about that part,” said Viren, and I almost dropped the mug in shock.
Wifey?
Who was this man, and what had he done with my stiff and formal husband who wouldn’t even touch me unless it was a matter of life and death?