Page 113 of The Defiant Wife

I search her face for even the smallest sign that she's uncomfortable. There isn't one."Can I kiss you?"

For once . . . She doesn't tease me. She doesn't change the subject.She doesn't hide behind another joke either. Her eyes drift to my lips before meeting mine again. A tiny smile touches her face."Yes," she whispers.

It's barely louder than a breath. But it's enough.

I close the distance between us. My lips meet hers gently. Slowly. There's no rush.

No audience. No palace. No politics. Just her.

She melts into the kiss, and for a few quiet seconds, the rest of the world disappears.When I finally pull away, I rest my forehead lightly against hers.My thumb brushes softly across her warm cheek.

She looks just as dazed as I feel.I never imagined I'd become someone who steals kisses behind marble pillars.

I've spent twenty-eight years keeping people at arm's length.Avoiding attention.

Avoiding feelings.Avoiding moments exactly like this.But standing here with my wife . . . None of those old rules seem to matter anymore.

I smile to myself.

For the first time in a very long time . . . I don't care who's watching. Because somewhere along the way, without even realizing it . . . I stop protecting my heart from her.

I simply give it to her.

43. WORTHY

DIYA

The VIP enclosure at the center of the pavilion is everything I usually hate. Heavy velvet curtains. Gold-framed mirrors stretching to the ceiling. Crystal chandeliers. Fresh white lilies flown in from somewhere expensive.

Normally, I'd spend the next twenty minutes wondering how much money was wasted decorating one room.

Tonight . . . I barely notice any of it.

Because all I can think about is Veeraj's hand resting against the bare skin of my lower back. His palm is warm and steady, guiding me through the crowd without letting go for even a second.

Every time his fingers move slightly against my skin, a shiver runs up my spine.

My heart still hasn't recovered from the kiss we shared behind the marble pillar a few minutes ago.

I can still feel it.

The way he looked at me. The way he asked before kissing me. The way everything between us quietly changed.

I steal another glance at him as we walk.

He's completely at ease here. His black bandhgala fits him perfectly, making his broad shoulders look even broader. He walks through the room with calm confidence, greeting ministers, diplomats, and business leaders like he's done it his entire life.

People naturally make space for him. They listen when he speaks.

And I can't help smiling a little as I watch him.

He's handsome. Ridiculously handsome.

We stop in front of the Chief Minister. The older man smiles politely before extending his hand toward Veeraj.

The two of them exchange greetings and begin talking about development projects and state funding.

I try very hard to pay attention. I fail miserably. Instead, I find myself listening to Veeraj's voice. That deep, calm voice somehow makes even government discussions sound interesting.