Chapter 67
sixty-seven
. . .
When I vowed to stay away from Remo, it was with good intention, born from a need to protect us both.
I might not have wanted a baby at first, so intent on finishing my residency, but the moment I discovered I was pregnant, every maternal instinct fired up to protect them with my life, which was why I ran.
Going back to Japan and recovering for the last three weeks under Uncle Haru’s gentle care proved to be soothing, a balm for the chaos I’d left behind.
After sending Remo a text last night, though, my love for him fought those feelings, determined to let him rule my life again. Not like I had a choice since I was carrying his child and the man suffered OCD like no other.
Obsessive. Consuming. Dominating.
Regardless, I chose to return to Boston and pursue the engagement with Ajay for two reasons, believing he’d make a more caring father than Remo while hoping it might help me get my brother back.
But I knew Remo would never let another man take what belonged to him, and I wasn’t talking about the baby. His return text said as much.
Remo: You’re mine.
Defiant as always, I accepted Ajay’s invitation to dinner, certain that I was putting his life at risk if his initial confrontation with Remo was anything to go by.
Ajay chose a restaurant that looked like something out of a glossy magazine. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, pianist playing a soft melody, a place that whispered luxury, safety and devotion. The man had style. Pity, I didn’t want it willingly.
The moment I reached his table, a weird sensation floated down my spine. Almost like a portent to danger I should avoid.
Ajay stood to greet me, immaculate in a dark suit, smile gentle and warm as always. “Ishika,” he breathed. “You look beautiful.”
Waving aside my inhibitions, I forced a smile. “Seeing as I didn’t give much thought to what I should wear, that’s a compliment,” I tried for friendliness, but my reply came out all stiff and awkward, as if my mouth to filter decided it was betraying Remo.
He chuckled, soft and disarming. “Then I’m honored you still outshine the room without trying.”
I suddenly felt bad. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”
“All good.” He pulled out a chair for me. “Sit.” I sank gracefully into the plush chair. “I’ve ordered wine but if it’s not to your liking, we can order something else.”
“Thank you.” I accepted the glass of red he held out, silently taking in the scene.
We were seated at a private table tucked into a corner, a candle flickered between us, turning his features soft, charming.
An almost perfect setting for lovers. About to take a sip, I remembered I shouldn’t be drinking and set the glass down.
“Something wrong?”
“Do you mind if I ordered a juice instead, I took some meds earlier, don’t want to mess with them.”
“Meds?”
“Just antibiotics,” I lied smoothly, the falsehood slipping out with the ease. “Still healing.” I’d mentioned the shooting to him when he called so as not to get his hopes up if he planned anything strenuous.
Ajay studied me for a moment, his gaze lingering on the untouched wine glass before he nodded, accepting the explanation.
“Of course. Health comes first.” He signaled the waitress again, ordering sparkling water with lime and a glass of passion fruit.
“We want you in peak condition for the wedding.”
The word hung in the air like a threat. Wedding.
I forced a smile, nodding, but my mind drifted away from the candlelight and the soft piano melody.
It drifted to blue eyes and rough hands.
The way he’d looked at me the night of the shooting, the raw fear in his voice when he thought I was dying.
It fought against the maternal instinct screaming at me to run, to protect the life growing inside me from his world.
But God, I missed him. It was a physical ache, a hollow space in my chest that only he seemed to fit.
“Ishika?” Ajay’s voice cut through the fog. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at the candlelight for too long. “Sorry,” I murmured, taking a sip of the water that somehow appeared, to hide the tremor in my hand. “Just tired.”
“You’re always tired,” he said, his tone sharpening slightly before he reached across the table, covering my hand with his. His palm was damp, his grip too tight, possessive in a way that made my skin crawl. “You need to let go of Remo. He’s dangerous, unstable.”
Yet he was the only man I felt safe with. “He saved my life,” I replied, pulling my hand away under the guise of adjusting my napkin.
“He put you in that position in the first place,” Ajay countered, his smile not reaching his eyes.
He stood, rounding the table. I stiffened, my instincts screaming at me to move, but I locked them down, wishing Dia was here tonight. She’d know what to do, would’ve hurt him before he got close.
“You look tense,” Ajay murmured, standing behind my chair. His hands settled on my shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle. “Let me help you relax.”
“I’m fine.” I shot to my feet, shrugging off his touch that felt coldly weird. “I just need to freshen up.”
“The bathrooms are down the hall,” he said, pointing. His voice was smooth, but his eyes had cooled, the charm slipping to reveal the steel beneath.
I walked away, feeling his gaze burning into my back.
The hallway was empty, carpeted in plush velvet that swallowed the sound of my heels.
I reached the powder room and slipped inside, locking the door.
I leaned against the sink, breathing hard, staring at my reflection.
Pale. Tired. Dark circles under my eyes.
A woman with a secret. I placed a hand over my stomach, soothing him.
A knock on the door made me jump, unaware I’d been lost in memories again.
“Ishika?” Ajay’s voice followed a second after. “You’ve been in there a while. Are you alright?”
“Coming,” I called, my voice shaking.
“Open the door.”
“It’s locked for a reason, Ajay. Privacy?” I didn’t hold back the sarcasm.
“Open it.” The command was sharp, no longer a request.
I unlocked it and pulled it open. He was standing right there, filling the frame. Not waiting for an invitation, he entered and door shut behind him, the click of the latch sounded like a gunshot.
“What are you doing?” I backed up until my hips hit the marble counter.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice low, venomous, crowding me against the sink “Since you came back. Since you got out of that hospital.”
“I was recovering.” I lied.
“You were with him.” He spat the word. “Don’t think I don’t know. Everyone knows. Remo Rossi doesn’t let go of what’s his. So why are you here? Why are you wearing my ring?”
“Because of Kai, remember? That was the deal.” I said, trying to sidestep him.
He blocked me, his hand slamming the wall beside my head. “You let him touch you, do disgusting things to you in front of me. But you won’t let me kiss you even after the engagement? I’m your fiancé. I have rights.”
“You have no rights,” I shot back, my voice hardening. “Not like that and not unless I say so.”
His face twisted, insecurity masking itself as rage. “He’s a monster, Ishika. I’m the one who’s safe. I’m the one who’s offering you a safe life.”
“Yet you’ve got me concerned in a public bathroom?” I snapped. “You call that safe?”
He blinked and for just a second I thought he’d pull back. Instead, he grabbed my throat, squeezing hard and forcing my face up. He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek. “Let me remind you who you belong to.” He tried to crush his mouth against mine, the pressure on my throat tightening.
I didn’t think, just reacted. My knee came, driving into his groin with precise, brutal force.
Ajay gasped, doubling over, his hands leaving me to clutch his crotch.
Stumbling back, he hit the door, his face turning a sickly shade of red.
He looked up, and the entitlement was gone, replaced by pure hatred.
“You bitch,” wheezing, he yanked the door open and screamed into the hallway. “Get in here!”
Two men appeared instantly. Large, suited, professional. They stepped into the small room, boxing me in.
“Hold her,” Ajay snapped, straightening and wiping his mouth.
They grabbed my arms, pinning them behind my back. I struggled, kicking out, but I was no match for them. Ajay walked over, pulling a small syringe from his jacket pocket. The liquid inside was clear.
“What is that?” I demanded, my heart hammering against my ribs. I twisted, protecting my stomach.
“Something to help you remember your place,” He smirked, nodding to his men. “Hold her still.”
“Ajay, don’t—” I struggled, but he didn't listen.
Stepping close, the needle glinting under the vanity lights, he shoved my sleeve up and plunged it into my arm.
I cried out from the fear enveloping me, the cold liquid entering my vein, spreading fast.
“Take her home,” Ajay ordered, stepping back, adjusting his cuffs.
My knees buckled. The men yanked me upright as the room began to tilt, the edges of my vision blurring, the lights stretching into long, bright streaks.
I tried to fight, tried to call for help, but the drug weighed down on me, smothering my responses.
My thoughts slowed and my limbs turned into lead.
As they dragged me out of the bathroom, through the quiet restaurant, and into the night air, the last thing I saw was Ajay watching from the doorway. Unsmiling, he looked like a man who had just declared war.
And I was too weak to stop him.