CHAPTER 11
Abhay set the file on Samarth's desk with a heavy thump.
"That was fast," Samarth said, reaching for it.
"When you want something done immediately, we work fast." Abhay crossed his arms. "You're not going to like what we found."
Samarth opened the file. The first few pages were standard—Kabir Malhotra's business license, tax returns, property holdings. Clean, successful, legitimate.
Then came page fifteen.
"Sealed juvenile records?" Samarth looked up.
"From when he was seventeen. Assault charges. The victim was a girlfriend who claimed he got violent when she tried to break up with him."
"Claimed?"
"The charges were dropped. Her family suddenly had money for a new house. Her medical bills were paid in full. And she signed an NDA."
Samarth's grip on the file tightened. "Keep going."
"Three years ago, sexual harassment complaint from an employee at his company. She claimed he cornered her in his office, made inappropriate comments about her body, tried to kiss her."
"And?"
"She resigned the next day. Received a severance package worth six months' salary plus a glowing recommendation. Also signed an NDA."
"How many NDAs total?"
Armaan, who'd been standing by the window, spoke up. "Seven that we found. Could be more."
"All women?"
"All women he worked with or dated. All with similar stories—aggressive behavior, inappropriate touching, inability to take no for an answer."
Samarth's blood ran cold. "And the packages sent to Nimisha?"
"The sex shop owner recognized the photo we showed him," Abhay said. "Man matching Kabir's build bought those items two days before the package arrived. Paid cash, wore a hood, but the build matches."
"Could be coincidence," Armaan said, but his tone suggested he didn't believe it.
Samarth's laugh was cold. "I don't believe in coincidence."
He stood, pacing to the window. His sister was planning to marry a predator. A man who stalked women, harassed them, bought them off.
A man who'd sent explicit items to Nimisha.
A man who wanted his wife.
The rage that flooded through him was ice-cold and absolutely lethal.
"What's your play, boss?" Abhay asked.
"We need more. Solid proof that connects him directly to the packages. Evidence that can't be explained away."
"And if we can't get it?"
"Then I'll handle it my way." Samarth's voice was deadly calm. "But I'm not letting Tanisha marry him. And I'm sure as hell not letting him anywhere near Nimisha."
"Speaking of Mrs. Ranawat," Armaan said carefully, "her security detail reports Kabir tried approaching her at the market yesterday. They intercepted before he could get close."
Every muscle in Samarth's body went rigid. "He what?"
"Followed her to the bookstore. Tried to 'accidentally' run into her. Her guards created a barrier."
"She knows?"
"No. We kept it subtle."
Samarth closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. "Double her security. I want eyes on her every second she's outside this house."
"Already done."
"And put surveillance on Kabir. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to, every breath he takes."
"Boss, if we're caught surveilling a potential family member—"
"I don't care." Samarth's eyes were black with fury. "My sister's safety and my wife's safety trump family politics. Find me the proof I need to destroy him."
After they left, Samarth sat alone with the file, staring at the pattern of abuse.
Seven women. Seven NDAs. Seven lives disrupted because one man couldn't control himself.
And now he'd fixated on Nimisha.
The thought of Kabir's hands on her, his eyes on her, his sick fantasies about her—
Samarth's hand curled into a fist, crushing the edge of the file.
Someone was going to die over this.
He just needed to be smart about who and when.
That Afternoon - Master Bedroom, 2:47 PM
Nimisha was folding laundry when Samarth entered their bedroom—unusual for the middle of the day.
"We need to talk," he said.
She set down the clothes. "About?"
"Your security."
"I already have security. Two very large men who follow me everywhere."
"It's being doubled."
Her brows rose. "Doubled? Why?"
"Because I said so."
"That's not a reason."
He moved closer, his expression serious. "Someone's stalking you, Nimisha. The packages weren't random. Someone is watching you, following you, learning your routine."
Fear flickered across her face. "You know who it is."
"I have suspicions."
"Tell me."
"No."
"Samarth—"
"I'm handling it." His hands cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "But until it's handled, you follow the security protocols. No arguments. No sneaking away. Understood?"
"I'm not a child."
"No, you're my wife. And you're in danger." His jaw tightened. "So you'll let me protect you, or I'll lock you in this house until the threat is eliminated."
She should be angry at his high-handedness. Should protest his controlling behavior.
Instead, she found herself asking, "Are you really that worried?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No equivocation.
"Everyone will know you think I'm important now," she said quietly. "The family. The staff. Everyone will see—"
"You are important." His thumbs stroked her cheeks. "You're—"
He stopped himself, jaw clenching.
"What?" she prompted softly.
"You're my wife," he said finally. "That makes you important to this family. To our image. To our legacy."
There it was. The qualifier. The distance.
Not you're important to me. Just you're important to the family.
She pulled away from his touch. "Right. The family image. Can't have a scandal."
"Nimisha—"
"I'll follow the security protocols," she said, returning to her laundry. "I have no desire to be kidnapped or worse."
He stood there for a moment, and she could feel his gaze on her back.
Then: "That's not what I meant."
"Yes, it is." She didn't turn around. "It's always what you mean. I'm an asset to be protected. A possession to guard. The family's reputation walking around in a saree."
"You're more than that."
Now she did turn. "Am I? Then what am I to you, Samarth? Specifically to you, not to the Ranawat family or the business or the image you project. What am I to you?"
The silence stretched.
She'd asked this before. Never gotten an answer.
"That's what I thought," she said when he didn't respond. "The security can stay. I'll be a good girl and follow all the rules."
"Damn it, Nimisha—"
"Is there anything else? I have work to do."
He stared at her for a long moment, something conflicted warring in his expression.
Then he left without another word.
Nimisha waited until she heard his footsteps fade before sinking onto the bed, her hands shaking.
She'd pushed. Had demanded an answer she knew he couldn't give.
Because if he admitted she meant something beyond duty and obligation, it would crack the carefully constructed walls he lived behind.
And Samarth would rather die than show that kind of vulnerability.
That Night - 11:56 PM
Nimisha couldn't sleep.
She kept thinking about the packages, the stalking, the danger Samarth seemed convinced she was in.
About Kabir's wandering eyes and Bruno's protective growls.
About the fact that her husband was going to extreme lengths to protect her but couldn't admit she mattered.
She was staring at the ceiling when the bedroom door opened.
Samarth entered, already stripping off his shirt.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
"No."
He climbed into bed beside her—rare for him to actually sleep here lately.
The mattress dipped under his weight. She could feel the heat of his body even though they weren't touching.
"I can't tell you who I think is stalking you," he said quietly into the darkness. "Not until I have proof."
"Why not?"
"Because it would complicate things. Cause family drama before I'm ready to handle it."
Family. Of course.
"But I need you to trust me," he continued. "Trust that I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe."
"I trust you to protect the family assets," she said. "I always have."
He rolled toward her, his hand finding hers in the darkness. "You're not just an asset."
"Then what am I?"
His fingers threaded through hers. "I don't know how to answer that."
"Try."
"You're..." he paused, struggling. "You're the woman I think about when I shouldn't. The face I see when I close my eyes. The reason I can't focus in meetings because I'm wondering if you're safe."
Her breath caught.
"You're the one person who's gotten under my skin despite all my efforts to keep you out," he continued, his voice rough. "And it terrifies me."
"Why?"
"Because people I care about get hurt. Because caring is weakness in my world. Because—"
He stopped, but she heard what he didn't say.
Because I don't know how to care without destroying.
"I'm not asking you to love me," she whispered. "I know that's impossible. But maybe... maybe you could stop pretending I mean nothing."
His hand tightened on hers. "You don't mean nothing."
"Then what do I mean?"
Instead of answering, he pulled her against him, his arms wrapping around her with surprising tenderness.
"Sleep," he murmured against her hair. "I've got you."
It wasn't an answer.
But it was something.
And for tonight, she'd take it.