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Zara refused to let him play mind games with her. Even though her pulse raced with his every word, smile and touch. “What’s there to not trust? You need to distract the minister’s attention away from you. Vikram and Naina need to begin their wedded life not enveloped in dirty rumors. The biopic needs some good publicity after being continually stalled by people baying for Vikram’s blood. All of these reasons, I believe, should appeal to your good sense.”
“What if I still harbor hatred for you over how you threw me over a decade ago when greener pastures called? What if I take this chance to tumble you into love, and ruin you once and for all? What if—”
“I didn’t throw you over for any...” she faltered, the resolute conviction in his gaze stealing away her words. For a few seconds, Zara had no idea what to even say. What was he talking about? She wanted to demand he explain what he meant by that. But he wouldn’t. She knew that from the wicked look in his eyes. It was abundantly clear that he would enjoy seeing her squirm if she asked him. “It seems we see the past differently,” she said carefully, unable to curb those words. She didn’t give him a chance to say more. “Do I wonder why you’re constantly getting involved with unsuitable women? Yes. But do I worry that you’ve become a man who would find pleasure in a woman’s pain, in my pain? Never.
“As we get older, we become better prepared to deal with the world, we start wearing masks, we hide our fears, but at the core, we remain who we’ve always been. Isn’t that the gist of your national award–winning movie?”
“A woman with all the answers,” Virat said, finding comfort in her innate trust in him, despite everything. Maybe the fact that the entire world—including his mother—thought him a dangerous seducer of innocents had begun to grate. He was a rebel at heart but not how the world imagined it.
He was a decade older, wiser, and more cynical. The whole world thought him brilliant. And he was the first to admit he had a unique point of view. But that knowledge had come at a high price.
The more he saw of the world, the less he wanted to be vulnerable in front of it. It was only through the medium of film that he could share parts of himself. Truly, it was a lesson he’d been taught even as a nine-year-old boy, when his father had shown up for both Vikram and their younger sister, Anya, at the annual school day, but not for Virat. And at sixteen, when his father had called him his mother’s not so little dirty secret.
When he’d met Zara, he’d thought he’d met a kindred soul. A woman who was also looking for a place to belong. But Zara had proved to him that he wasn’t enough for what she wanted, only confirming what he’d always known about himself. He wasn’t good enough to be a Raawal.
And yet when Virat had stopped trying to please others, he’d found his own power. In his art and in his career. And in his personal life.
“No one really appreciates what it takes to be a well-informed woman,” she said with a long-suffering sigh.
He smiled. He shouldn’t be surprised that it was easy to talk to her. They had always had an inexplicable connection. An undeniable chemistry. A strange sort of magic happened whenever they came together.
After her screen test for the biopic—Virat wasn’t going to hire anyone without one—Bhai had seen the kind of performance Zara was capable of giving in Virat’s hands. He’d had to needle her, push her, draw her out to give her best to the role. Consummate professional that she was, she’d taken every criticism and suggestion he’d made with a grace he’d rarely seen on a film set.
And in the end, when Zara had tried that scene again, she’d been vibrating with energy and nuance. She’d been magnificent. Ever the businessman, his brother was counting on that alchemy to show up on the screen. With Virat at the helm and Bhai and Zara on screen, Virat had no doubt the movie would be extraordinary.
His own magnum opus. His legacy.
He couldn’t give up on the docuseries he’d started secretly filming that would expose the dirty underbelly of a lot of powerful men, but he didn’t want to miss the chance to add his name to the Raawal legacy.
Zara had hit the nail on its head. That she’d so clearly known what would motivate him to behave was like a thorn stuck under his skin. He didn’t want to be aware of how perceptive she could be when it came to him. He didn’t want her in his life at all. But since he was responsible for the rumors surrounding him and the minister’s wife, who was actually helping him to bring down her abusive husband, not sleeping with Virat like everyone believed, and because he did care about his brother and Naina, he would behave.
Because this served him, as well. And because, as he was discovering, there was a lot of fun to be had in tripping Zara’s confidence. In poking at the Queen’s untouchable poise. Already there was that slight buzz in his blood from just parrying words with her.
“If you’re signing up to be my keeper,” he said, meeting her eyes again, “the woman who will transform me from being a marriage-wrecking womanizer to someone totally respectable, you should know I’m not as malleable as I used to be.”
Color seeped into her cheeks but she held his gaze boldly. “You, malleable? Virat, you are the most intense man I have ever met. Even at twenty, there was this...energy about you. This vitality. This thirst to prove yourself to the world.
“Maybe your memories are skewed. Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself that I took advantage of a younger man. But I remember otherwise.”
“Do you? Remember, that is?” Curiosity overcame his resentment.
“I do. Regularly,” she said vehemently and then blushed. Her lashes fluttered down, her silky hair cooperatively falling onto her face. Her honesty added to that hum under his skin.
He held her gaze. “A fake romance where I end up dumping you in a few weeks’ time is only going to make me even more the villain. It’s bad enough your entire fandom thinks Bhai traded you in for a younger model. I can just imagine the headlines if they thought I was playing with you, too—‘Raawal Brothers bounce Zara Khan between them’ or some such rot.” He let his words sink in. “If this is to have the immediate positive impact we want it to have, we should announce our engagement.”
“Absolutely not!” Her stubborn mouth drew into a line, her eyes flashing fire. “An engagement is a step too far, Virat. I... Maybe you have no plans for your future other than playing games with other men’s wives, but I...”
“You what, Zara? You’re still waiting for your prince? Still waiting for your happily-ever-after?”
She flinched and looked away, and Virat felt a moment’s tenderness for her. Which was entirely misguided. He was still bitter about what she’d done ten years ago, but now he’d had years of experience working in the film industry, he did at least understand how valuable networking was if you wanted to get anywhere.
But nevertheless, he wasn’t ever going to buy into those flashes of vulnerability he glimpsed in her eyes sometimes. Not again.
“Think of it, Zara. If you truly want to pull the negative attention away from Bhai and Naina’s wedding next week, if you want to create some good PR for the biopic, then logically our engagement provides you with better value. Like Bhai’s super-sentimental sagas where you get action, drama and the romance of a lifetime all wrapped up in one,” he said, mimicking the reviews of Vikram’s last blockbuster.
A smile peeked from the edges of her mouth and she sighed. “Fine. You always could get me with your logic.”
He shrugged. “It makes sense. The minister and his powerful cronies will be distracted by my beautiful fiancée, who’s taming me away from their young wives. Once the biopic releases, we can slowly untangle from each other, pretending we both made a mistake.”
