Chapter Eleven #2
"I know." His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "And I'm trying to be worthy of that. Trying to be the man you deserve instead of the man fear and grief made me."
"You're getting there." She managed a watery smile. "Slowly. But you're getting there."
They sat in silence for a while, hands linked, the air between them clearer than it had been in months.
"I have something for you," Sidharth said finally. "Come with me?"
Twenty minutes later, they were in his car, driving through the city. Advika had no idea where they were going, but for once, she didn't mind the mystery.
They stopped in a commercial district she recognized—not far from where Sinfully Sweet had been located. Sidharth led her to a building she'd passed a thousand times, never really paying attention to it.
"This way." He unlocked a door, gesturing for her to go first.
Advika stepped inside and froze.
It was a bakery. Fully equipped, gorgeous, and roughly three times the size of her old location.
Commercial-grade ovens lined one wall. Massive marble counters stretched across the space.
A walk-in refrigerator hummed in the corner.
Display cases waited to be filled. And in the back, she could see an office with a desk and computer.
"What... what is this?" Her voice came out as barely a whisper.
"Your bakery." Sidharth handed her a set of keys. "Your old place wasn't secure enough. Too exposed, too vulnerable. This building is owned by one of my companies. Top-of-the-line security system. Cameras, alarms, panic buttons. I've already hired two guards who'll be here whenever you are."
"You bought me a bakery?"
"I bought you a safe place to do what you love." He moved to stand beside her. "You gave up Sinfully Sweet when you married me. I can't give that back to you—that was yours, your creation, your dream. But I can give you this. A place to start fresh. To build something new."
Advika's eyes were burning with tears again. She walked through the space, trailing her fingers over the counters, opening oven doors, examining equipment.
Everything was perfect. Professional-grade, thoughtfully arranged, clearly designed by someone who understood what a baker needed.
"Meera and your old staff have already agreed to come work here," Sidharth continued. "If you want them. And the apartment upstairs has been converted to a secondary office and storage space, but we can make it into a small café area if you prefer."
"You talked to Meera?" Advika spun to face him.
"I wanted to get the details right." He shrugged, but she could see the pleasure in his eyes at her reaction. "She was very helpful. Also threatened to castrate me if I hurt you again, which I respect."
Despite everything, Advika laughed. "That sounds like Meera."
"So?" He looked almost nervous. "What do you think?"
Instead of answering, she crossed the space between them and kissed him. Poured everything she was feeling into it—gratitude and love and hope and joy.
When she pulled back, they were both breathless.
"It's perfect," she whispered. "It's absolutely perfect. Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me—"
"Yes, I do." She cupped his face in her hands. "This is the first time anyone has ever given me something just because they wanted to make me happy. Not because they had to, not to control me, not as a transaction. Just... because you care."
"I do care." The words seemed hard for him, but he said them anyway. "More than I know how to express. This—" he gestured around them "—this is me trying to show you what I can't quite say yet."
"It's enough." She kissed him again, softer this time. "For now, it's more than enough."
They spent the next hour exploring the space together. He showed her the security features, the updated electrical system designed to handle the load of commercial equipment, the ventilation system that would keep the space from getting too hot.
"When can I start?" Advika asked, already mentally planning what she'd bake first.
"Whenever you want. The permits are all filed, the inspections passed. It's ready."
"Tomorrow," she decided. "I'll call Meera tonight, start inventory tomorrow, and hopefully open within a few weeks."
"No rush," he said, but she could see he was pleased by her enthusiasm.
On the drive back to the estate, Advika found herself smiling for the first time in weeks. Real, genuine happiness bubbling up in her chest.
"What?" Sidharth asked, glancing at her.
"Nothing. Just... thank you. Really."
His hand found hers across the console, squeezing once. "You're welcome."
The next few weeks brought a shift in the household dynamics.
Advika threw herself into setting up the new bakery.
She spent her days there, working alongside Meera to organize inventory, test equipment, develop new recipes.
Sidharth had meant it about the security—two guards were always present, rotating shifts, but they stayed unobtrusive, letting her work without feeling watched.
And Sidharth... changed.
He still wasn't openly affectionate in front of others. Still maintained his cold businessman persona during the day. But there were small differences that added up:
He'd text her during the day—just simple things like "How's the baking going?" or "Don't forget to eat lunch."
He started coming home earlier, timing it so they'd have dinner together.
He asked about her day and actually listened to the answers, asking follow-up questions about recipes and staffing decisions.
One evening, he even showed up at the bakery unannounced, claiming he was "in the neighborhood," though they both knew he'd gone out of his way.
He'd sampled everything she'd made that day, offering thoughtful feedback, and she'd caught him smiling at her flour-dusted appearance with something that looked dangerously like fondness.
Even the nights changed. The sex was still intense, passionate, but there was more tenderness now. He'd hold her after, stay the whole night, and sometimes they'd just talk in the darkness—about nothing and everything, building the foundation they should have built from the start.
Nisha noticed the shift, of course.
"You're spending a lot of time with her," she commented one morning at breakfast, her tone carefully neutral.
"She's my wife," Sidharth replied without looking up from his paper.
"You gave her a bakery."
"She's a talented baker. It made sense."
"And the guards? The security system that costs more than most people make in a year?"
"Her safety is important."
Nisha's jaw tightened, but she said nothing more.
She'd been noticeably quieter since the luncheon incident, especially after Sidharth had a private conversation with her that Advika hadn't been privy to.
Whatever he'd said, it had worked—at least partially.
Nisha still wasn't warm, but she was less overtly hostile.
Progress. Slow, painful, but progress nonetheless.
The business dinner came three weeks after Advika's bakery opened.
It was a necessity—politicians and business associates Sidharth needed to schmooze, deals that needed to be made, appearances that had to be maintained. Advika had been getting better at these events, learning how to navigate the shallow conversations and political maneuvering.
She'd worn a deep sapphire blue gown that hugged her curves before flowing to the floor. Sidharth's eyes had darkened when he'd seen her, and he'd pulled her into a heated kiss before they'd left, murmuring "You're stunning" against her lips.
The event was being held at a five-star hotel. Advika recognized many of the faces now—politicians she'd met before, business associates who'd attended their wedding, members of other families in their world.
And then there was Ambassador Rohan Mehra.
He was in his early forties, handsome in a distinguished way, with silver threading through his dark hair and warm brown eyes.
He'd been seated next to Advika—a deliberate choice by the hosts, probably, putting her next to someone diplomatic and charming rather than in the usual power-broking conversations.
"Mrs. Singhania," he greeted her warmly. "A pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard wonderful things about your bakery."
"Ambassador Mehra." She accepted his handshake. "Thank you. We just opened a few weeks ago."
"Please, call me Rohan. And I'd love to hear about it. I'm something of a dessert enthusiast myself."
He was pleasant, engaging, asking thoughtful questions about her baking process and flavor combinations. He listened when she talked, laughed at her jokes, and treated her like an actual person rather than just the mafia king's wife.
It was... nice. Refreshing, even.
"You know," he said over dessert—an uninspired chocolate mousse that made Advika mentally critique every element, "the embassy is hosting a cultural exchange event next month. We're looking for a caterer who can do both Indian and French pastries. Would you be interested?"
"That sounds amazing," Advika said honestly. "It would be great exposure for the bakery."
"Wonderful. Here—" He pulled out a card. "My direct number. Give me a call next week and we can discuss details?"
Advika took the card, already mentally planning what she could create. "I'll definitely—"
"My wife won't be available."
Sidharth's voice cut through her thoughts. He'd appeared behind her chair, his hand settling possessively on her shoulder. His voice was pleasant enough, but Advika could feel the tension in his touch.
"Oh?" Rohan looked between them, clearly picking up on the sudden shift in atmosphere. "That's unfortunate. I was hoping—"
"She has prior commitments." Sidharth's grip tightened fractionally. "I'm sure you understand, Ambassador."
Rohan's eyes narrowed slightly, but his diplomatic training held. "Of course. Another time, perhaps." He stood, nodding to both of them. "Lovely chatting with you, Mrs. Singhania."