Chapter 8
Dev
Veer has been staring at me across the desk for the last twenty minutes as if I’ve completely lost my mind. And, to be fair, he’s not wrong, given how I’ve been handling things lately. But I am not about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
So I ignore him and keep my eyes glued to the email on my laptop screen, pretending the contract numbers are far more important than his gaze.
When he doesn’t get a reaction out of me, he drums his fingers loudly on the armrest, one leg crossed over the other like he’s settling in for a long, theatrical performance of ‘Let’s Annoy Dev Until He Snaps.
’ Unfortunately for him, I’m just as stubborn as he is.
I deliberately keep my eyes glued to my laptop.
But Veer, of course, is Veer. Patience clearly isn’t in his DNA.
Several more seconds pass, and when I don’t give him the opening he’s fishing for, he finally uncrosses his leg, leans forward, plants both elbows on my desk, and breaks the silence.
“Okay, what the hell is going on with you, bro?”
I still don’t look up and keep staring at the laptop. “Nothing.”
Veer lets out a short laugh, the kind that says, ‘Don’t insult my intelligence.’
“Oh, really? Because you haven’t been ‘nothing’ since the day at the guest house.” He leans in closer. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, meeting his eyes for barely a second before looking back at the email. It’s a lie. A pathetic one. And Veer knows it.
He scoffs and leans back in his chair. “Oh, please, bro. Don’t give me that corporate-robot tone. It doesn’t work on me.”
I glare at him, but he doesn’t stop.
“But if you want me to spell it out,” he says, folding his arms, his eyes locked on mine, “then explain to me…” He pauses just long enough to get under my skin. “Why is my bro suddenly playing matchmaker and fixing Sonia’s marriage?”
I raise my eyebrow. “Does her marriage affect you?”
“No,” he answers flatly. Then he doubles down. “It doesn’t affect me. But it sure as hell affects me that my brother is taking an interest in matters that don’t concern him.”
I let out a quiet breath and sigh. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I? You, Dev Rathore, who never interferes in anyone’s personal business, suddenly swoops in and fixes Sonia’s marriage. That too with more interest than you show in multimillion-dollar deals.”
I roll my eyes. “Mr. Mehta was looking for a bride for his son, and I thought Sonia would be perfect.”
Veer laughs under his breath. “And since when did you start doing social service?”
Fuck, even I know I didn’t do any of this out of moral righteousness.
That’s not who I’m, and we both know it.
I fixed the marriage because it all started with Sonia.
Because her mess dragged Meera into one trouble after another.
I thought if Sonia was finally settled, maybe Meera would stop throwing herself into danger and bruising herself in ways that made my heart slam against my ribs.
So yes. This wasn’t about helping anyone. It was about closing every door, every chance she had of getting hurt, even if it meant I had to get involved myself. And that’s the part I’m not proud of.
“Let me guess. This whole ‘fix the marriage’ circus is because you’re attracted to her friend.” He points a finger at me. “That’s why you keep running every damn time she’s in trouble—even if it’s just to take her to the hospital.”
I slam my laptop shut. “You’re overthinking it.”
“Am I?” Veer arches a brow. “Then why are you suddenly acting like a knight in shining armour?”
“I saw a bad situation, and I fixed it. That’s it,” I snap.
“That’s not your style, bro,” he points out, smirking.
“She was in my pub, and it was my responsibility to make sure she was fine,” I grit out.
“Anyone could’ve taken her to the hospital,” he fires back. “And don’t give me that crap about responsibility.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw, but the idiot doesn’t stop.
“What really triggered you is that you’re completely, undeniably attracted to her. And you just can’t stand to see her hurt or in any kind of pain.”
My patience snaps. “Veer.”
He raises both brows. “Hit a nerve?”
“Drop it.”
“No.” His voice hardens. “And you know what else pisses me off? The fact that you gave our guest house to host the stupid ceremony.”
“You’ll get over it. I expect you to attend it and be a good host,” I order, and he narrows his eyes, his jaw stubbornly set.
“I don’t think I can play the good host. It’s better I stay out of it.”
I let out a slow breath, the kind that feels like it scrapes against my ribs. Of course he’d say that.
“You will be there.”
Veer shakes his head firmly. “I’m a Rathore. I don’t tolerate or entertain anyone who disrespects me or my family.”
“Let me make one thing clear. The ceremony is happening in our space. That makes us the hosts,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Then you host. I’ll pass.”
“If you pass, then you’ll face the consequences. Ones you really won’t want.”
The only reason I want him there is because I can keep an eye on him. The last thing I need is Veer doing something stupid. Something he always does whenever he’s unhappy or curious. And right now, he’s both. He’s not happy about the wedding, and he’s curious about my feelings for Meera.
Veer stares at me for a few seconds before murmuring, “I’ll be there.”
With that, he rises to his feet and leaves the room, muttering something about needing air, and slams the door behind him. I stare at the door for a long moment, run a hand through my hair, and force myself to calm down.
Just then, the intercom buzzes.
I press the button. “Yes?”
“Sir, Ms. Meera Sinha is here to meet you,” the receptionist replies.
Of course she is. Just what I was expecting.
“Send her in, and put all my calls on hold,” I instruct, ending the call as I lean back in my chair, eyes locked on the door, waiting for her to walk in.
Five seconds later, Meera strides in, her eyes locking onto mine.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, sweetheart?” I ask.
“Why are you doing this?” she snaps, crossing her arms as she stands in front of my desk.
“Doing what?”
“Don’t act clueless,” she fires back. “Sonia’s marriage. This sudden alliance. What are you planning?”
My brows knit together. “Planning? I thought you’d be happy for your friend.”
“Happy?” She laughs in disbelief. “You really think I’d trust any proposal you bring?”
“And why is that?”
“Because I know you,” she says, her eyes burning into mine. “You don’t do kindness. All you do is destroy.”
I rise to my feet and take a deliberate step towards her. “And all you do is accuse, without a shred of logic.”
Her chest rises and falls sharply, anger radiating off her. I pull in a deep breath and add, “Your friend is safe. She’s marrying into a clean family. Isn’t that what you want?”
And that’s the truth. The Mehtas are a respectable family. Their business dealings are above board, their reputation untarnished, and everyone who knows them speaks highly of their integrity. They’re loyal, disciplined, and nothing like the kind of dirt she’s imagining.
“What I want is the truth,” she bites out.
“And what truth do you think I’m hiding?” I ask, folding my arms.
“I don’t know! That’s the problem! But my gut says something is off. And I trust my gut more than anything you say.”
“Meera… this is good for her,” I try, but she shakes her head.
“No. Nothing about this feels good.” She doesn’t let go of my gaze. “And God forbid if this marriage is any kind of trap, then I swear, Mr. Dev Rathore, I will burn everything you’ve built to the ground.”
With that, she turns around and leaves without hearing me out.
My heart hammers, not with anger, but with something deeper, far more than mere attraction.
Because in that moment, I see exactly how far she’d go to protect the people she loves, and just how far my obsession has grown.