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It wasn’t pity or sympathy. It was something else, something he wanted to drown in. Something he wanted to demand she give voice to.
Which was crazy enough in itself.
Vikram turned around and walked away from the damned woman with her far-too-blunt opinions and big eyes and from the house with its insistent mockery of what he should’ve been and what he had become instead.
Damn it, how had the woman gotten under his skin so easily? Why had it taken someone like her to point out the obvious truth of how far off course he’d veered? To make him suddenly understand the reason for his recent burnout?
Because he’d surrounded himself with yes-men and women. Because he’d made himself so powerful, so untouchable that there wasn’t anyone who would dare dig into him like she just had. Except Virat. And he hadn’t really listened to his brother.
Because in the pursuit of trying to fix everything their father had destroyed, he’d sold his soul in the process.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU’REHIDINGHERE...”
One bitingly truthful comment from Vikram Raawal had been enough to make Naina ache to take action. One small tidbit of gossip from her stepsister, Maya, that Naina’s ex was getting engaged had propelled her into doing this...
And now she was here. At a masked ball in borrowed glad rags, determined to have fun. The minute Naina had asked him, Virat had agreed to bring her to his parents’ latest charity ball, a mischievous smile lighting up his entire face. He’d always been friendly, charming but since her tirade at his older brother, he’d positively showered her with affection.
They’d arrived not two hours ago, waved in through the high gates into a beautiful winding pathway toward yet another bungalow the Raawals owned.
Naina took a glass of some frothy pink cocktail as she moved around the dance floor in the expansive ballroom.
Her eyes were going to be permanently stuck in a wide-eyed position from all the celebrities she had spotted so far. Even with elaborate, custom-designed, gem-encrusted masks, the stunning features of more than one actor and beautiful actress were obvious. And yet, there was a strange thrill in the air as most of the A-listers pretended as if they didn’t know each other.
Was that the attraction of a masquerade ball? Were these people so jaded that a pretend dress-up party passed for excitement in their frenetic, under-the-microscope lives?
Looking like one of them, even if every inch of her had been pinched, pushed, molded, painted, had been much easier than she’d imagined. Especially since Daadiji had tasked an entire team to dress Naina for the party.
The baby-pink A-line dress in chiffon, one of Anya Raawal’s own creations, had initially reminded Naina of a birthday frock her stepmother, Jaya Ma, had bought her when she’d been twelve. Full of layers and gauzy material, that frock had made Naina look like pink bubblegum. But since the elegant Ms. Raawal had been doing Naina a favor with this dress, she’d kept her mouth shut.
Once she had stood in front of the full-length mirror, Naina had quickly realized that Anya was a genius. The dress hugged her body from chest to waist and then flared wide, making the most of her short stature. With her unruly hair straightened to within an inch of its life, it fell to her waist in a long silky curtain.
With her hair not stealing the focus from her face and with cleverly applied makeup, her eyes seemed huge in her face. Even Naina had thought she looked almost beautiful.
After two dances and an introduction to one of her favorite writers, she’d insisted that Virat do his own thing. She’d realized from Daadiji’s sharp surprise he was even attending this party, that Virat usually gave a wide berth to anything related to his parents.
“I feel like I’m releasing an innocent doe into a horde of stampeding beasts,” Virat had said when she’d demanded if he was going to stick to her like last week’s gum.
“If you stand by me the entire time, shooting glares at any man who even looks at me,” she said with a smile, “I might as well freeze in place and look like one of these priceless sculptures that are dotted around. Please, Virat. I’m not as helpless as I look.”
That had done it.
She’d kissed him on the cheek, nodded obediently when he gave her strict instructions to text him when she was ready to leave, and then he disappeared into the crowd.
For the next half hour, Naina stayed on the steps going out into the balmy night, standing on the fringes of a group, listening to them argue the finer points of why remake mania had taken over the industry.
“You’re hiding,Ms. Menon,”said a deep voice in her head and she took a long drink of her cocktail in defiance. Damn Vikram Raawal. She wasn’t going to let the man have the last word.
Spotting another young actor that she thought was particularly cute, Naina edged along the perimeter of the dancing crowd, determined to introduce herself.
It wasn’t until an hour and a half later when Naina reached the huge library and closed the door behind her that she took in a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with Vikram Raawal.
No matter that he stood so separate from the crowd at the party, almost as if he was as out of place among these people as she herself. Which was ridiculous.
For one dazzling second, their eyes had met across the room, the rhythmic beat of the music around them in concert with her own heart. For one insane second, Naina had felt as if he’d actually seen her. The real her.
The usually dull, plump, bookish Naina Menon who stood on the sidelines and watched life pass her by. It felt as if he’d known that it was she beneath the mask.
