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And this bold, fierce woman who could go toe to toe with him was even more irresistible than the quiet, timid thing she’d been back then.
“Are you hiding, Zara?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” she replied, not looking away from her examination of the stars.
“I noticed you haven’t been off your feet for a moment since all the rituals began at dawn.”
Surprise painted over her face that he’d even noticed.
He shrugged. He didn’t need to articulate that he was, as always, obsessed with her.
“I take my role as the naive bride’s champion very seriously. It hasn’t been easy to shield her from the World War III her stepmother and your mother—” she hesitated and surveyed him quickly “—want to begin. Naina’s determined to satisfy everyone around her. To keep everyone harmonious. Even though Vikram has told her more than once that this wedding is all about her. So it falls to me to be the one who stands up to them.”
He walked into the nook and she stood up fluidly. “You’re a good friend to Naina.”
A flash of anger flared in her eyes before she chased it away. “Don’t sound so surprised, Virat. Like I told you, I’m not some one-dimensional vampy villainess.” She continued on before he could respond, her chest rising and falling with anger. “What is really strange is that you of all men want to box me into one category. Aren’t you the brilliant genius known for his three-dimensional portrayal of women? Hmm...is she a murderer or a sweet homemaker? No, she’s both!”
It was this bold way she had of calling him out on his own preconceptions that drew him to her. She was right. He did keep trying to box her in. But the alternative was that she’d continue to consume him. And that was unacceptable.
Virat leaned forward to meet her eyes. “I don’t think you’re a vampy villainess, whatever that means.” The truth of her statement lay heavy between them in the dark silence. He hated being wrong. And yet, he had a feeling he was continually putting his foot wrong with Zara. “It’s not a huge leap to think there might be awkwardness between you and Bhai’s newfound love. After all, you and he have been linked...”
“There has never been a whisper of physical attraction between me and Vikram. We let the media make more of our friendship than there really was because it served our purpose.” The words fell into the silence with the force of a gale.
Virat felt as if he’d been smacked in the face. Not because of the clarification she provided after all these years but at the relief that poured through him like a gushing river. He hadn’t realized how much bitterness he still nursed inside that Zara had chosen Bhai over him because Vikram could give her career a boost unlike anything Virat could have done for her at that time. But had she chosen Vikram, truly?
There was a clear disconnect between his version and her version of the past. Suddenly, the entire foundation he’d been standing on for a decade seemed full of holes.
This time, her anger wasn’t hidden at all. It blazed out of her eyes and the twist of her mouth. “If you think I just swapped you for Vikram when I got bored or...”
He had no idea what she saw in his face but the fight deflated out of her. She blinked, as if fighting tears, her hand slightly trembling as she pulled her hair away with both hands in an incredibly graceful movement. “Of course. That’s exactly what you thought. It’s how little you think of me.”
Before he could blink, she was moving away. “I can’t take this, not today.”
He wrapped his fingers around her arm, stopping her. “Zara, wait!” She turned her face away from him and he let her. Something in him rebelled at the idea of hurting her. Of being the reason for a strong woman like her to be brought low. “I didn’t mean to hound you out of here. To throw recriminations at you.”
Her fury only increased. “No, for ten years, you have simply looked through me. As if I didn’t exist. As if our entire history together was erased. I would have welcomed recriminations, because at least that meant you were giving me a chance to explain. But I didn’t deserve even that much in your eyes, did I?”
“You were the one who left, Zara,” he said gently, as if that small fact hadn’t rocked his life like an earthquake. “You accepted a movie offer from Bhai and left.”
“Because I was trying to build a career and you—”
“Ms. Khan, is that you?” interrupted a soft female voice from outside the arched doorway. Zara’s breath fell on his cheek in a soft stroke and Virat barely held his temper in check. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with gushing girls who thought his and Zara’s romance was a sparkly fairy tale they all could take part in.
“Oh, Ms. Khan, I don’t know how to thank you for inviting me. I’ve already met so many people,” the woman continued, stepping into the dimly lit nook. And then her gaze fell on Virat and his hand around Zara’s arm and their heads tilted together. “I... Oh... Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Raawal. I didn’t see you there or I’d have never—”
“Don’t worry, Meera.” Her fingers on his wrist, Zara pulled his hand away from her arm. Her gaze held Virat’s with a bold challenge that made his spirit sing. As he watched, she pushed away the naked hurt on her face until there was nothing but sweet charm. “I forgot what an important man my fiancé is and was bothering him with the most inconsequential thing from a long time ago,” she said, looping their arms together and turning them around to face the woman.
After she’d left him, he’d no choice but to pretend she didn’t exist. He’d used her betrayal as fuel to push him to reach for ever greater heights. His anger with her had felt so justified.
But Virat wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Except the fact that with each moment they spent together, he wanted this Zara with a desire that defied explanation.
Zara felt the swift rise of Virat’s irritation in the very stillness that came over him. If he had the reputation of being a demanding bastard on the set, he had zero tolerance when it came to the tabloid media. It stemmed from being used as evergreen scandal material every time his mother or their family or his movies came up in the news.
The whole “Was he a Raawal or was he Vandana’s illegitimate son?” debate was a piece of news that had been cycled over and over again for its shock value.
“Mr. Raawal is delighted for your interruption. Aren’t you,jaan?” she said, pouring flirty charm into her voice, clasping his jaw with her palm.
The endearment made his jaw tight like tar packed into a road, and delight bloomed in her chest. It was like pawing a predator who was only playing nice for a limited time.
