Chapter 30
DAKSH
He dropped Kabir and the girls back to their home and left before Vedika could grab him again.
He knew that if she did, he’d grab her back and never let go.
This was getting out of hand. He needed to get home, pack his shit and get on a flight out of here.
And he needed to forget all about his brother’s ex-fiancée and the fact that she seemed to have imprinted herself on his brain.
This was wrong. Not her. She would never be wrong.
Not to him. But the timing, the circumstances…
all of it. It was wrong. And Daksh may be the family fuck up and his family may be completely fucked up, but even he could see what a trainwreck this would be.
That was even before he took into consideration the fact that her father looked at him with murder in his eyes.
So, the simplest thing to do would be to go.
Anywhere, it didn’t matter where. On a good day, Daksh was a nomad.
He had a base in New York but he was rarely home for longer than a week at a time.
This was the longest break he was taking from work and that was only because he’d needed it for the command performance at the ‘wedding that did not happen’.
But walking away from Vedika tonight had been hard, really hard. Leaving town without seeing her again? It would be exponentially difficult. But this wasn’t the first time he’d done the hard. Most days, he lived the hard. That was pretty much the cards life had dealt him.
The cab pulled up in front of his house and he paid the driver and got out.
The house was thankfully in darkness which meant he didn’t need to speak to anyone.
All he needed to do was pack and then head for the airport.
He’d look for the first, feasible flight out of here on the cab ride after dropping a message to his mom and brother, wishing them goodbye.
It was when he walked past the living room that he realised that his quick getaway under the cover of night was in jeopardy.
“Where have you been?” Ashish sat in a large, winged armchair, shrouded in darkness, his voice holding an extra edge to it tonight.
“Sorry I’m late, Dad,” Daksh quipped, walking over to where his brother sat and turning on the light. Shit. His brother was a mess.
He wore loose tracks and no shirt. His hair stood up in spikes, his eyes were red rimmed and his breath stank of alcohol. It wasn’t just his breath, Daksh realised. The smell seemed to come from his very pores.
Resigned to his fate, Daksh sat down in the chair across from him. “How long have you been drinking?” he asked, quietly.
“What else is there to do?” Ashish asked, swinging his glass around, whiskey sloshing over the rim. “The fucking Thakkars have ruined me.”
No, he’d ruined himself, Daksh thought but didn’t say. He’d had the world in his palm and the idiot had played roulette with it.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“No, Mom,” Ashish retorted, mimicking Daksh’s earlier response.
Daksh sighed. “What are you doing Ashish?”
Ashish leaned forward, his drink sloshing violently in the glass with the movement. “What are you doing Daksh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daksh kept his voice level.
“What was that picture you took last year? The one that was in that famous exhibition?”
“The hyenas scavenging a fresh kill?” Daksh asked, a faint throb beginning at his temple.
“Yeah.” Ashish pointed his glass at him. “That’s what you are. A hyena picking at my leftovers.”
“Careful,” Daksh said, the throb turning into a pulse, his anger a dull roar in his blood.
Ashish’s mouth twisted in a smile. “Fuck you man. Fuck you! I knew the minute she walked in at dinner and looked at you…I knew then that my engagement was over.”
“Your engagement is over because you screwed her over,” Daksh told him, fury leaking into his voice.
“I had no choice!” Ashish got to his feet, his temper rising to meet Daksh’s.
“You always have a choice,” Daksh told him.
Ashish shoved him, his hand, damp with whiskey, slipping off Daksh’s shirt. “Fuck you.”
Daksh gripped his wrist, holding him back. “Cut it out.”
“Are you fucking her? Did you fuck her in Goa?” Ashish was yelling now.
“No, you fucking idiot,” Daksh roared. “I would never do that to you. Or to her.”
“Then why does she look at you like she’s considering tearing your clothes off?” Ashish’s eyes glittered with angry tears. “She has never once looked at me like that. Even the few fucking kisses I managed to steal were like a chore she needed to get done with.”
“Then why the fuck did you propose?” Daksh gritted out.
Ashish laughed, a bitter sound. “Sex I can get anywhere. Where else would I get a walking, talking blank cheque?”
Daksh punched him even before the thought formed completely in his mind. Ashish went flying, landing spread eagled on the centre table. A thin trickle of blood dripped down his jaw. He wiped at it disbelievingly and looked up at his brother.
“Are you fucking in love with her or something?”
“Love with whom?”
Dread slid through Daksh as their father stepped into the room, glancing askance at the overturned furniture and Aakash who was now dripping tiny droplets of blood on to the carpet.
“Vedika Thakkar,” Aakash spat. “Fucking bastard stole my girl.”
“I didn’t-“ Daksh began but his father was already turning towards him, eyes gleaming with interest.
“Well, well, well,” Prasun Mathur said, “maybe you are not so useless after all.”