CHAPTER 27
SIMRAN
I storm to the car, my heels clicking against the pavement like thunderclaps, echoing my rage.
“Take me home,” I say to Abhay, my voice tight with anger.
He hesitates, his eyes flicking over my shoulder to Vishnu, who’s trailing a few steps behind, and my patience snaps. “I don’t want him in my car. Either drive me home, or I’m calling a cab.”
Vishnu’s jaw tightens as he silently gestures for Abhay to go ahead. Of course, I think bitterly, he has more important things to do—like investigating my friends and destroying my business relationships with his caveman attitude and paranoid behaviour. In one swoop, he’s managed to drive away both a friend and a valuable business associate.
As Abhay starts the car, I throw one last glare at Vishnu before getting inside. The door slams shut, cutting off his imposing figure from my view. My chest rises and falls, anger and frustration twisting my insides. How dare he ruin our wedding day like this?
Just last night, I thought everything had finally fallen into place between Vishnu and me—that we’d finally found some balance, some semblance of a partnership after everything we’ve been through. And now this.
My phone keeps buzzing with congratulatory messages and wedding wishes, each one feeling like a mockery now. How can I celebrate when I’m too busy worrying about the business implications if Zane really withdraws as our fashion consultant?
The moment we reach home, I head straight inside, my mood as dark as the evening sky. Veer is thankfully asleep, oblivious to the tension that’s hanging in the air. Claire gives me a knowing look, her subtle attempt at cheering me up falling flat against my mood.
The hours drag by with no sign of Vishnu. I know exactly what he’s doing—meticulously verifying every piece of evidence Zane provided, probably now realising that his suspicions were dumb and totally baseless. But the damage is already done. My business partnership is in ruins.
It’s late when Vishnu finally returns home. He’s on a call, his Bluetooth earpiece barely disguising the seriousness of his conversation. Veer, however, doesn’t care about his father’s stern demeanour. He crawls across his playmat toward Vishnu, his chubby arms reaching up for him. Even though Vishnu’s on a call, he scoops up our son and plants a kiss on his forehead before continuing his conversation. The sight, usually one that would soften my heart, only adds to my frustration. How can he be so tender with Veer yet so maddeningly overbearing with me?
I busy myself with finishing the last of my chores, trying to ignore the romantic ambience Claire has created in our bedroom despite my earlier protests. Scented candles flicker softly in the room, and rose petals are scattered all across the bed. The lighting is dimmed to create a cosy, intimate glow. But I’ve already decided—he won’t be touching me tonight, let alone sleeping beside me. After ruining our wedding day, I’m determined to make him regret picking today of all days to destroy my mood and my business relationships.
I change into the least appealing sleepwear I own—an oversized, basic button-up cotton shirt and loose pyjamas. There’s nothing remotely sexy about it. Let him take that as a sign of where he stands tonight. He’s still on the phone, talking to who I think is his dad, discussing tomorrow’s flight to India. His eyes keep finding me as he talks, trailing over my deliberately unsexy choice of sleepwear. I don’t care. Right now, I’m too angry and too hurt by his actions.
Yet somehow, despite my intentionally dowdy appearance, his gaze burns with desire as he walks over with Veer still in his arms.
“Dad wants to speak to you,” he says, holding out his phone.
I take the phone from his hand and immediately step away, needing a moment to compose myself before speaking with my new father-in-law. Pratap Walia’s warm congratulations make me wonder if he knows how his son has managed to ruin this day for me. I accept his wishes graciously, but when he mentions how excited he is to see us in India, my stomach tightens. If today’s drama is any indication of what awaits me there, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.
When the call ends, I deliberately place his phone on the table instead of handing it back to him. I take Veer from his arms, focusing all my attention on our son.
“Time for bed, little one,” I say to my son, heading toward my bedroom. Our bedroom .
“Simran,” Vishnu calls me from behind.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I cut him off, not even sparing him a glance. “Just... don’t.”
His presence looms behind me but he doesn’t push further. Good. Let him stew in the silence of my anger. Tonight, he should realise that actions have consequences, even for Vishnu Walia.
Veer sleeps peacefully on our decorated bed as I brush off the rose petals from it and arrange the sheets. He looks so serene, his little chest rising and falling with each breath.
When Vishnu moves to transfer him to his crib, I shake my head.
“Veer’s sleeping here with me tonight,” I say, my tone brooking no argument. I carefully position pillows on the other edge of the bed to keep our son safe and then settle on my side, determined to hold on to my anger.
Without arguing, he heads to the bathroom, and the sound of the shower running fills the silence. I take my phone and scroll through more congratulatory messages on my phone, trying to distract myself.
When the door opens a few minutes later, I make the mistake of glancing up and my breath catches in my throat—he’s wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, slung low on his hips, droplets of water trailing down his chest. Heat floods my veins despite my resolve to stay angry. My hands freeze mid-motion, and I force myself to look away, but my traitorous body betrays me. I sneak another glance, watching him as he dries his hair with slow, deliberate movements. He’s fully aware of the effect he has on me, and that only makes it worse.
When he strides toward the bed, I immediately snap, “You’re not sleeping here tonight.”
He doesn’t respond; not even a flicker of emotion crosses his face. Instead, he climbs onto the bed, pushing me toward the middle as he settles behind me, tucking me close to his chest.
“Vishnu!” I hiss, trying to wriggle free, but his grip is firm. I might not be able to physically push him away, but I can certainly give him a piece of my mind. “This is not happening. You can’t just—”
“Hush,” he murmurs against my ear. “You don’t want to wake Veer, do you?”
I hate that he’s right. I glance at Veer, who stirs slightly but settles again, blissfully unaware of the tension between his parents. I turn to face Vishnu, ready to argue, but the intensity in his eyes makes my heart skip.
“I had no plans to even talk to you tonight, but here you are, forcing yourself into my bed like nothing happened.”
He doesn’t flinch at my words. There is not even a hint of guilt on his face. Instead, his thumb brushes against my cheek with an infuriating gentleness.
“Do you know what you did today?” I demand, though his thumb stroking my cheek is terribly distracting.
“Simran...” His voice is softer than usual, and his dark eyes hold mine. “I don’t explain my actions to anyone. Not even my father. Yet, I’m explaining them to you.”
Like that’s supposed to impress me. Huh! He isn’t doing me any favours.
“I had suspicions about Zane, and I couldn’t ignore them because you matter to me. Your life matters to me. I did what I had to do to verify those suspicions.”
“But you were wrong,” I counter, though my resolve is weakening under his touch. “You’ve ruined my business relationship with him.”
“Zane isn’t the only fashion consultant in this city,” he says, his thumb now tracing my lower lip. “You’ll find someone else.”
“He’s the best in his field,” I scoff. “That’s why I hired him. Do you even understand what this could mean for my business?”
Instead of answering, his gaze drops to my lips. His shifts closer, his body radiating heat, and his fingers slowly trace my lips, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
“I don’t want to hear any other man’s name tonight,” he interrupts, his voice dropping to that deep timbre that makes my skin tingle. “Not even for professional reasons. Tonight, I want only my name on your lips, Simran. Whether it’s a moan or a plea... you will utter only my name on our wedding night.”
My body again betrays me as his hand slips inside my nightshirt and cups my breasts intimately. A sharp gasp escapes me, but I quickly regain my composure. I grab his wrist and shove his hand away.
“You don’t get that privilege tonight.”
“It’s our wedding night,” he growls softly. “I get to make love to my wife.”
“Not when you’re responsible for souring your wife’s mood,” I retort, turning my back to him. But I can feel his gaze burning into my skin.
He draws me back against his chest, his leg sliding over mine to trap me in place.
“I told you earlier,” he whispers, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, “we Walias are very particular about following every ritual. At least let me kiss my bride tonight.”
“No,” I protest weakly, but he’s already pressing kisses to my hair, my nape, making me shiver. My resolve is crumbling, my body betraying my mind’s determination to stay angry.
His hand slips under my nightshirt again, and when I try to resist, he quiets me with a gentle ‘Just this.’
His fingers move with maddening skill, and I know I’m fighting a losing battle. I want to push him away, to hold onto my anger, but the warmth of his touch makes it impossible. I give up trying to resist, my breaths coming faster as his fingers work their magic, massaging and kneading my breasts until my defences crumble completely.
I let out a soft sigh, surrendering to the moment. He presses a kiss to my shoulder, his lips lingering as if savouring the taste of my skin.
“Go to sleep now,” he says, pressing feathery light kisses on my hair. “I know you are tired.”
He is damn right! I relax in his embrace as Vishnu snuggles closer, and soon, sleep begins to claim me. His arms tighten around me, holding me as if I’m the most precious thing in his world. And despite everything, despite my anger and frustration, I can’t help but feel the same.