Page 90 of The Defiant Wife

He knew. He knew the entire time. Instead of calling me childish. Instead of exposing my prank . . . He somehow turns it into something that leaves me completely speechless.

I don't know what to do with that. Suddenly very aware of how embarrassed I am, I take an awkward step backward.

A mistake. My heel catches the leg of the armchair behind me.

"Oh!" I lose my balance.

For one terrifying second, I prepare to hit the marble floor.

I never do. Before I can fall, Veeraj is already moving. One second he's behind the desk. The next, his arm is firmly around my waist.

He pulls me toward him with surprising ease until I crash lightly against his chest.

The world stops. One hand is still around my waist. The other steadies my shoulder. My fingers instinctively grab the front of his shirt.

I can smell cedar and the faint scent of his cologne. He's breathing a little harder than before.

So am I. Neither of us moves. We're standing far too close.

His eyes search mine for a long moment before his brows lift slightly.

"Do you always fall like this, Trouble?" he asks softly. His voice is quieter than usual. Almost gentle.

My brain has completely stopped working.

Thankfully, my mouth hasn't. "Yes," I whisper, unable to look away from him. " . . . if you're always there to catch me." The words leave my mouth before I can think.

The teasing smile I expect never comes.

Instead . . . Something changes. Right in front of me. A slow flush climbs up his neck. Then reaches his cheeks.

Veeraj Singh Shekhawat . . . The man who never reacts . . . Is actually blushing.

His grip around my waist tightens ever so slightly. His eyes don't leave mine. "I will." His voice is steady. "You're my wife, Diya." He says it so simply. So honestly. "I'll always catch you."

My heart forgets how to beat properly. Everything around us disappears, none of it matters anymore. All I can think about is the warmth of his hand around my waist, the colour on his cheeks . . . And the impossible realization thatOperation: Break the Stone Princehas finally worked.

The only problem . . . I'm the one who feels completely undone.

31. THE GEOGRAPHY OF SCARS

VEERAJ

It's sometime after three in the morning when a strange noise pulls me out of a light sleep.

At first, I think I'm imagining it.Then I hear it again.

A soft, broken whisper.I turn my head toward the other side of the bed.Moonlight slips through the sheer curtains, filling the room with a pale glow.

Diya is tangled in the sheets, tossing restlessly.She's mumbling something I can't understand. Her breathing is uneven, coming in short, shaky breaths.

Then I see it.

Tears.They're sliding silently down her face even though she's still asleep.

My chest tightens. I've seen this woman walk through life with more courage than most people I know. But right now . . . She looks so painfully small.

"Diya," I say quietly.