CHAPTER 13
The engagement party planning had taken over the entire house. Tanisha was in full bride-to-be mode, her excitement infectious to everyone except Nimisha.
And Samarth, whose expression had been carved from ice since Kabir arrived an hour ago.
The family had gathered for what Saroj called a "casual evening"—which meant formal clothes, catered food, and enough champagne to float a yacht.
Nimisha wore a simple but elegant salwar kameez in dusty rose, her hair in a neat braid. She'd positioned herself near the bookshelves, trying to be invisible.
It wasn't working.
Kabir's eyes kept finding her across the room.
"Nimisha, come help me with the dessert selection," Tanisha called. "You have good taste."
No, I don't, Nimisha thought. If I had good taste, I wouldn't have fallen in love with a man who can't love me back.
But she stood, moving toward the dessert table where an array of sweets had been laid out for tasting.
She was examining a particularly elaborate gulab jamun when she sensed someone behind her.
Too close.
"These look delicious," Kabir said, his voice low, intimate.
Nimisha stepped to the side, putting distance between them. "They do."
"Though nothing as sweet as you look tonight."
Her stomach turned. "That's inappropriate."
"Is it?" He moved closer again, effectively cornering her against the table. "I'm just complimenting my future sister-in-law."
"Kabir—"
"You look beautiful tonight, Nimisha." His eyes traveled down her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "That color suits you. Soft. Delicate. Like you."
"Thank you." She tried to move past him. "If you'll excuse me—"
His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. "Stay. Talk to me."
She froze, panic flaring in her chest. His grip wasn't painful, but it was firm. Possessive.
"Let go," she said quietly.
"We're just talking." His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. "Samarth is very lucky to have you. Though I wonder if he appreciates what he has."
"Remove your hand."
"In a moment. I wanted to tell you—"
A low, menacing growl cut through the pleasant chatter.
Bruno.
The massive dog appeared from nowhere, positioning himself between Nimisha and Kabir with lethal precision. His lips pulled back, revealing impressive teeth, his entire body radiating threat.
Kabir released Nimisha's wrist immediately, backing up with nervous laughter. "Hey there, boy. We're just having a friendly conversation—"
Bruno's growl deepened, his dark eyes fixed on Kabir with unmistakable promise.
Touch her again and die.
The room had gone silent, everyone staring at the tableau.
"Bruno, stop it!" Tanisha's voice was sharp with annoyance. "Kabir wasn't doing anything wrong!"
Bruno didn't move. Didn't even glance at Tanisha.
His entire focus was on protecting Nimisha.
"Bruno," Nimisha said softly, her hand resting on his massive head. "It's okay."
The dog looked up at her, his expression clearly saying: No, it's not.
"Bruno. Here." Samarth's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
The dog didn't obey.
For the first time in his life, Bruno ignored a direct command from his master.
Samarth crossed the room in seconds, his dark eyes taking in the scene with terrifying precision.
Nimisha, pale and shaken.
Bruno, positioned protectively.
Kabir, too casual, but his hand still raised like he'd been touching something.
"Remove your hand," Samarth said, his voice deadly calm.
"I already did," Kabir said with an easy smile. "We were just chatting, and your dog got a bit overprotective—"
"My dog," Samarth interrupted, "doesn't get overprotective without reason." He looked at Nimisha. "Did he touch you?"
She hesitated, not wanting to cause a scene.
Bruno answered for her with another growl.
"I barely touched her wrist," Kabir said, laughing nervously. "Just a friendly gesture—"
"There's nothing friendly about touching another man's wife." Samarth's tone could have frozen hell. "Especially when she's clearly uncomfortable."
"I wasn't uncomfortable," Kabir protested. "Was I, Nimisha?"
All eyes turned to her.
She met Samarth's gaze, saw something fierce burning there.
Tell me the truth, his eyes demanded.
"I asked him to let go," she said quietly. "He didn't."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
"It was just a moment," Kabir said quickly. "I was mid-sentence, got carried away—"
"Bruno," Samarth said, his voice softer now. "Stand down."
This time, the dog obeyed. But he moved to Nimisha's other side, still creating a barrier between her and Kabir.
Satisfied.
"I don't understand what his problem is!" Tanisha said, her voice rising. "Bruno has never acted like this. Kabir is going to be family!"
"Bruno senses threats," Samarth said, his eyes never leaving Kabir. "He always has. And he's never been wrong."
The implication hung in the air.
Kabir's smile tightened. "Surely you're not suggesting I'm a threat? To my own future sister-in-law?"
"I'm not suggesting anything." Samarth's smile was cold. "I'm stating facts. My dog doesn't trust you. And I trust my dog's instincts more than I trust anyone's words."
"Bhai, you're being ridiculous," Tanisha said, moving to stand beside Kabir defensively. "He wasn't doing anything wrong!"
"He touched my wife without her consent."
"It was just her wrist—"
"I don't care if it was her fucking pinky finger." Samarth's control finally cracked, his voice hard. "She's my wife. No one touches her without permission. Especially not a man she's clearly uncomfortable around."
"I'm not uncomfortable—" Kabir started.
"She is." Samarth's eyes were black with rage. "I can see it. Bruno can sense it. The only people who can't are the ones too blinded by your charm to see the predator underneath."
"Samarth, that's enough!" Saroj's voice was sharp. "You're being incredibly rude to our guest."
"He stopped being a guest the moment he put his hands on what's mine."
The possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable.
Nimisha's breath caught.
"This is insane," Tanisha said, tears in her eyes. "You're going to ruin everything! You're jealous because I found happiness and you're stuck in a loveless marriage—"
"Tanisha." Raghbir's voice cut through his daughter's tirade. "Enough."
He'd been watching silently from his chair, but now he stood, his presence commanding immediate attention.
"Kabir, I think it's best if you leave for tonight," Raghbir said calmly. "Let tempers cool."
"Sir, I assure you I meant no disrespect—"
"I'm sure you didn't. But my son's wife was uncomfortable, and my grandson's dog is ready to tear your throat out. Those are two facts I can't ignore." Raghbir's tone was polite but absolute. "We'll discuss this tomorrow when everyone is calmer."
Kabir had no choice but to agree. He left with Tanisha escorting him out, shooting daggers at Samarth as she went.
The moment the door closed, Samarth turned to Nimisha.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. Just... uncomfortable."
His jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth grind. "He will never come close to you again."
"Your sister is marrying him. You can't control—"
"Watch me." His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "I don't care if he's marrying the Queen of England. If he touches you again, I'll break every bone in his hand."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice made her knees weak.
"Why do you care?" she whispered.
"Because you're mine to protect."
Not I love you.
Not I can't stand to see you hurt.
Just mine to protect.
Possession, not affection.
She nodded, swallowing her disappointment. "Thank you. For believing me."
"Always." He released her, stepping back. "Go to our room. I'll be up shortly."
She obeyed, Bruno following at her heels like a shadow.
Master Bedroom - 10:47 PM
Nimisha had showered and changed into her nightgown by the time Samarth entered their bedroom.
She was sitting on the bed, brushing her hair, when he closed the door with deliberate care.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked again, like he needed to hear the answer multiple times to believe it.
"No."
"Did he touch you anywhere else?"
"Just my wrist."
"Show me."
She extended her arm. There was a faint red mark where Kabir's fingers had gripped too tight.
Samarth's expression went deadly.
He crossed to her in three strides, taking her wrist gently in his hands. His thumb traced the mark with infinite care.
"I'm going to kill him," he said conversationally.
"You can't."
"I can. I will."
"He's marrying your sister."
"Not if I have anything to say about it." He lifted her wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to the mark. "No one hurts you. No one touches you. No one makes you uncomfortable in your own home."
The gentleness of his touch contrasted sharply with the violence in his voice.
"Your mother thinks I'm causing drama."
"My mother doesn't see what I see."
"What do you see?"
He looked at her then, really looked at her. "I see a man who can't keep his hands to himself. Who makes you uncomfortable. Who sends you sick packages and follows you to bookstores."
Her eyes widened. "You know about the bookstore?"
"I know everything." His hand moved from her wrist to her face. "Your security reports to me. And they reported that Kabir has been following you. Watching you. Getting too close."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was gathering evidence. Building a case. Making sure I could destroy him completely before I struck."
The cold calculation in his voice should have scared her.
Instead, it made her feel safe.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now?" He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers. "Now I make sure he never gets within ten feet of you again. And then I ruin him so thoroughly, he'll wish he'd never heard the name Ranawat."
"And Tanisha?"
"Will hate me. But she'll be safe." His eyes were hard. "I can live with her hatred. I can't live with the alternative."
"Which is?"
"Her married to a predator. Or you getting hurt." His hand slid into her hair. "Both are unacceptable."
She closed her eyes, breathing him in. "You're being protective."
"I'm being possessive," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Protective means I care about your safety. Possessive means I want to kill any man who looks at you wrong." His lips brushed her temple. "I'm definitely possessive."
"And protective?"
His silence was answer enough.
She pulled back slightly. "Why can't you just say it?"
"Say what?"
"That you care. That I matter. That this is more than just duty and possession."
"Because I don't know how," he said, raw honesty in his voice. "I don't know how to be anything other than what I am. Hard. Cold. Violent."
"You're not cold with me. Not always."
"In bed, you mean."
"Not just in bed." She touched his face, making him look at her. "When you read my book. When you asked about my writing. When you protected me tonight. That's not cold."
"That's selfish," he corrected. "I want to know what you do because you're mine. I protected you because no one else gets to touch what's mine. Don't romanticize it, Nimisha."
"Why not? You won't let me romanticize us, you won't let me hope, you won't let me believe this could be more. What am I supposed to do? Just exist in this half-life forever?"
He didn't answer.
She laughed bitterly. "That's what I thought."
She tried to move away, but his grip tightened.
"Don't," he said roughly. "Don't pull away from me."
"Why not? You do it constantly."
"Because I'm trying to protect you."
"From what?"
"From me." The words were torn from him. "From what I'll do to you if I let myself have you completely. From the monster I become when I care too much."
Her breath caught. "You care?"
"Nimisha—"
"Do you care about me?" She needed to hear it. Needed something to hold onto.
His jaw clenched. "You know I do."
"Say it."
"I—" He stopped, the words stuck in his throat. "I can't."
Tears burned her eyes. "Then show me."
"How?"
"Like this."
She kissed him, pouring a year of frustration and longing into it.
And he kissed her back like a drowning man finding air.