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“The resentful bastard in me says it’s because I’m me now. A powerful man in his own right.”
Zara flopped onto the settee behind her, her knees shaking beneath her. “Wow, so you think I came back to you because now you are of use to me again?”
“No. I don’t.” He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “You have nothing but my respect, Zara. But the past...” an angry groan fell from his chest “...is like an angry shadow that haunts me.”
“Then maybe you’ve become the very man you’ve hated your entire life,” Zara said softly. “Maybe you’re more like your father than you realize—a man who’s so caught up in the past that he ruins his own future.”
If she thought he’d mock her that she wasn’t part of his future, he didn’t. His gaze shifted away from her but not before she saw him flinch. His words when he spoke felt like they were wrenched from him. As if the very thought had haunted him. “You think that possibility hasn’t occurred to me? You think I’m not trying every moment to let the past go?”
And that was what these two days of respite had been. Zara knew he was trying to let things be. Knew she had pushed him into that place of hurt and irrationality. Knew that...he’d always tried to live his life guided by those very principles that had drawn him to her.
Frustration raked its nails through her at the specter of past always coming between them. She believed him that he wanted to get past it. But he never might. And that broke her heart a little.
Of course, Vandana Raawal had lied about Zara’s reasons for leaving. She’d spun the entire thing to make herself look better to her rebellious son. She had used the opportunity to get closer to the son she’d already hurt beyond repair.
After all, the absolute truth was Vandana had picked Zara’s audition tape from hundreds and put it in front of Vikram.
In a twisted world, she could even understand the desperate woman’s motivations. After all, when Vandana had approached Zara, she’d thought she’d been doing the right thing for her son. She had thought Zara wasn’t good enough for him.
But for Virat to have believed that Zara had taken money from his mother to leave him, that she’d been out to get everything she could, that their relationship hadn’t meant the world to her, that it hadn’t nearly broken her to walk away from the one man who’d made her feel alive again...that hurt.
The truth was, she hadn’t been ready for another serious relationship after her travesty of a marriage and her husband’s death. She didn’t even know who she’d been back then.
He came to her then, his long fingers falling on her shoulders gently. Her skin tingled with awareness. Every inch of her body prickled with that mixture of excitement and anticipation. A quiet joy that her mind would always associate with the very scent of this man.
“Zara,” he whispered, his breath coating her temple. “I’m not a small man who begrudges you the career you’ve made for yourself. I...” his jaw tightened “...don’t want to be...”
Zara pushed his hands away and stepped back.
She’d vowed to herself a long time ago that no man was ever going to make her feel small again. No man was ever going to control her happiness again. And she couldn’t let Virat do it to her, either, she thought bitterly. Even though there was a part of her that now understood how shattered he must have been to think she’d left him for money and to get a role in Vikram’s film.
“I’m ever so grateful that you slept with me even though this is what you think of me, Virat. I can’t tell you how—”
“Stop, Zara. I’ve tried to forget the past. I’ve forgiven you. I realize I was an idealistic prig back then. It doesn’t matter what I thought of you, of us. After ten years, I can see it as less of a betrayal and more as a powerless woman using everything she had to get ahead in an industry that rewards connections and power.”
“Wow, so you forgive me, do you?” Zara retorted, sheer fury pushing away the hurt that he’d think that of her. “Then let me tell you that you’re still an idealistic prig. You... You’re right. This was never going to be easy or fun or just a fling.” She looked away from him, feeling as if she was saying goodbye to him all over again.
She felt his chin rest on her head, his fingers tightening around her shoulders. Felt his harsh exhale stroke the skin of her neck. She desperately wanted to lean back into his hard body, to let him enfold her in those strong arms.
He was waiting for her to do just that. She knew. Letting her decide the course of this. Letting her know with that voluble silence of his that he still wanted her. That they could just bury the past here in this moment, thorns and all.
That they could continue this thing between them for as long as she pleased. That he wanted her, despite what he thought she might have done. Every inch of her wanted to lean back into him, to cover the distance.
She took a bracing breath instead and said, “I swore to myself a long time ago that I’d never cry again in front of a man. Please leave, Virat.”
The sudden cold kissing her spine told her he had left. And now that he was gone, she perversely wanted him back. Wanted him to hold her and kiss her and make love to her until she was too trembling and sated to think straight.
Zara didn’t cry. Exhaustion and that same nausea she’d been battling for weeks now began to set in, leaving her body sore and achy. But as she flopped down onto the bed and buried her face in the scent of the man she missed like an ache already, she wondered why she hadn’t simply told him the truth. Why she hadn’t simply defended herself.
Vandana Raawal had lied to her son. Outright, completely lied that Zara had taken money from her as payment to walk away from Virat. She’d not only convinced Zara that she wasn’t good enough for her son, that she was ruining Virat’s bright future back then, but she’d also broken her son’s heart with her own hands. Ruined his trust in Zara.
Even worse, she’d broken his trust in himself.
But however she looked at it, Zara knew she’d had a hand in it, too. Her inability to trust him back then, her fears about how her last marriage had turned out and her uncertainty about the future—hers and Virat’s—had made her run away from him. Had made her choose the easy way out, convincing herself it was the best thing for them both.
Was she willing to do the same thing again or was it time to finally tell him the truth about her past and about what his mother had done? She fell asleep, pondering the answer to that question, desperately missing Virat in her bed and in her heart.
CHAPTER TEN
