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Whether he meant to let her feel the heat in his words or not didn’t matter. Zara felt memories sliding into the present, claiming her senses, lodging inside her muscles. God, he’d been such an incredible lover. And it shouldn’t surprise her that within minutes of standing this close to him for the first time in a decade, her good sense wanted to fly away.
She waited for her heart to resume its normal pace. Tried to tell her swooping belly that the man was an incurable flirt. She bent her head and clicked the tiny button on his tablet closed. The screen turned black. “Ah...so you were telling the truth when you said you had to protect yourself from me? You’re afraid of what I might do to you.”
A smile curving his mouth, Virat leaned back into the seat. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, considering her. With one long leg, he pushed out a barstool for her to perch on. If Zara thought he might sputter at her innuendo, she’d have been wrong. This was not the Virat she’d known ten years ago—so full of raw emotions and intensity that it had been like looking at the sun. A man eager to prove himself to the world. Determined to leave the dirty rumors of his paternity behind.
This was a man who’d built and tasted success beyond his own wildest dreams. A man who lived his life by his own damned rules and no one else’s.
“Is that why you picked me for this role, Zara? Because you think you can play me however you want?”
Zara snorted. “No, I picked you because this farcical affair will help you, too. And because I believe that, despite your differences, you do care about your brother.”
A cold reserve entered his eyes. “So this is all about Bhai, then?”
Zara frowned. “It’s not just Vikram that needs my help right now.”
“I don’t need you to save me,shahzadi.”
“From the world? No. From yourself, yes,” Zara retorted. “You were kind to me when I was at the worst point in my life. Let’s just say I’m finally returning the favor. Maybe even taking the burden of talking some good sense into you off Vikram’s shoulders.”
“I forget how good you are at calculating your pros and cons. How risk averse you are. No wonder you and Bhai got along so well for so many years.”
Zara stared at the clear contempt in his statement. That Virat and Vikram had always had differences in their vision for Raawal House of Cinema was publicly known. But to sayshewas calculating was...unfair. She wasn’t calculating so much as she was risk averse. In both her career and in her personal life.
Especially when it came to men. Because she’d learned the hard way to be calculating. To deal with her head and not her heart.
Did Virat really believe the myriad rumors about her and Vikram’s on-off relationship that was purported to have lasted throughout an entire decade? Did he think she’d simply traded one brother for the other when the fancy took her?
The very thought made her sick and angry. No, to think Virat was still affected in any way by the past was nothing but self-indulgence.
Virat Raawal attracted women like honey attracted bees. Maybe because he was such a generous lover. Maybe because he didn’t play ego games like other men. Maybe because when he put his mind to it, he could be the kindest, funniest man a woman would ever meet.
He enjoyed the women who came to him and everything they offered. He gave them everything but his heart.
In the last ten years, he’d been through countless women, and she was a fool if she believed he’d been hung up on her even for a few days.
She shook her head, refusing to let the past cloud the present. “The point is, this situation you’ve created with your crazy antics with that minister’s wife is bigger than both of us. Vikram’s spent over fifteen years building up Raawal House of Cinema again, and he’s finally found some measure of happiness with Naina. He’s poured his heart and soul into this biopic, put everything he owns on the line. You’re out of control, and if someone doesn’t stop you, you’ll bring everything down.”
Virat’s mouth tightened. “If I’ve become such a big liability because of my recent actions, then Bhai will simply fire me and find a new director. Like you, he’s not sentimental.”
“I don’t think Vikram will fire you. Not when the production’s more than half done. Not when this project already has your brilliant stamp all over it. This biopic is not any average project that you two have butted heads over. This is about your grandfather. This is Raawal House’s magnum opus. This is a legacy that you and he will leave for generations to come...”
Zara softened her voice, knowing how long and how deep that old wound festered within him.
Virat Raawal’s paternity had been fuel for speculation in countless magazine articles for over two decades. It was the alleged reason for his parents’ scandalous second split, the reason for the huge chasm between his father and him, and it had been a painfully humiliating thorn in Virat’s side from a young age.
Because his mother—the famous Bollywood star of yesteryear Vandana Raawal—had had a secret lover after her first split with her husband. Then had come their publicized reunion and mere months later, Virat had been born.
For most of his life, Virat had had to contend with exposés and articles and trashy interviews speculating about his paternity. With his father’s cold rejection of him.
“Are you okay with being thrown out of that legacy, Virat?” Zara asked softly. “Have you decided that you don’t want to be a Raawal after all?”
He ran his hand through his hair and groaned. “Enough with the regurgitation of the same sentimental rubbish,shahzadi. Mama’s already put me through that speech, using the grand Raawal name to corral me.” He looked up, his eyes shining with unholy mirth. “Of course, what you’re offering as an incentive to behave is...clever.”
“I’m not offering you anything,” Zara blurted out, like a green girl afraid of the slick charm in his words.
The rascal grinned, having successfully baited her.
“So you trust me to behave as you want, then?”
