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For her to get restless or bored or annoyed...which, he knew, would’ve been completely fair. What struck him was how he’d been comparing her to Rani and that was unfair to both women. For all he’d assumed she was fragile, Anya had her feet solidly on the ground.
If Meera was busy with something, Anya asked Simon if he wanted to have dinner together. If she was going on a day trip to play tourist and visit local spots on the one day Virat had decided he didn’t need her, she asked him if he’d like to come along. If Simon happened to be working late—which he mostly had to because he still hadn’t completely decided if he wanted to make Mumbai his new HQ—she dragged in her portable sketching table and her box of pencils and loose paper and worked alongside him in silence.
While Vikram’s PR manager put a tight quality control on what was leaked from the movie production site by the crew, a few pictures of him and Anya had made it to the social media sites. After the first baseless rumor, apparently, the media and the public were now quite fond of him and Anya as a couple.
And despite his resolution that he’d not send her mixed signals, that he wouldn’t take advantage of her generosity, Simon had complied with most of her suggestions. Basically, because—for all the lies he told himself—there was no one else he wanted to face over the dinner table. No one he wanted to chat with whether it was about Meera’s future or art, or even his own business.
The woman was driving him out of his mind, just as she’d promised she would. And after just spending an entire day in Thailand, bored to death at meetings and parties, Simon had begun to question why he was denying himself this spot of happiness and pleasure.
“Oh, God, Anya, do we have to go through this again?” Meera whined, bringing his attention back to the scene in front of him.
Dressed in a loose skirt and a shirt that she’d knotted below her breasts, Anya was taking Meera’s measurements. The groove of her spine bared by the shirt called his gaze every time she moved. “We didn’t actually discuss this, Meera. I simply mentioned it to your dad and you. Before either of us could decide, you went ahead and okayed the interview.”
Meera did the whole “rolling her eyes and blowing a pent-up sigh” routine. “I heard Vikram sir tell you that it’s better to get in front of this, instead of letting the media drive it. And Virat sir said he agreed.”
It was Simon’s turn to sigh. His daughter had a huge crush on both her uncles. Thank God she thought anybody older than twenty-one was gross.
“Yes, that’s true,” Anya said, her tone still worried but firm. For all her unconditional love for Meera, she never let the teenager treat her like a pushover. “But my brothers conveniently forget that they’ve spent their whole lives being the media’s darlings. And they’re men so they’ve always been given more leeway.” Anya sighed. “Not that they didn’t have their own challenges. I’m just saying they...don’t know what it is to be a young girl who’s unwillingly thrust into the limelight and is measured against her illustrious mother whether she wants to compete or not.”
Meera stilled, her eyes wide in her face.
“I don’t mean to infer that your...mother was anything like mine,” Anya said hurriedly.
“I know,” Meera said, her eyes full of understanding that felt far too mature for her age. “Okay, let’s go over everything ready for the interview next week. On the condition that you’ll let me wear the Louboutins Zara di gave you for your birthday gift.”
Anya’s eyes widened. “I haven’t even taken them out of the box, you greedy girl. Plus they’ll be too big for you.”
Meera wiggled her foot in front of Anya’s face. “I checked. I’m almost the same size as you. Also, we have identical-shaped feet.”
Her hand on Meera’s foot, Anya stared. A shadow crossed her face before she recovered with a big smile. “Fine. You can wear them. Once.”
Meera threw herself at Anya with a whoop and almost sent them both toppling to the floor.
With a strength he wouldn’t have guessed she held in her slender form, Anya righted Meera and herself and they settled safely on the floor and leaned against the bed.
Simon stayed at the door, unwilling to interrupt the scene.
“They’ll ask about working with my brothers,” Anya said, her tone serious. “They’ll dig for stories about your mom. And just when you’re relaxed enough, when you think you’re doing well, they’ll pounce with a question about me and...your dad.”
“To which I’ll say my dad’s single, Anya’s adorable and it’s nobody’s business,” Meera said with a teenager’s confidence that she could storm through every obstacle in her life.
“They’ll almost certainly ask what you think about having me as your stepmom.” Before Meera could reply, she continued. “I’m sorry that we’ve put you in—”
“My dad’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time, Anya. Why are adults so...thick?”
A deep sigh gusted through Simon. His daughter had gotten to the punchline far faster than he had.
Her mouth falling open, Anya seemed taken aback by Meera’s confident announcement. “I grew up with parents who didn’t care how their antics in public affected us. So if you’re upset, that’s perfectly valid.”
“Anya, for the last time, I’m not upset.”
“Okay. That’s good. Because I’d hate it if you were.”
“And I’d never think you’re trying to replace Mama. If you do marry Dad, we’ll be more like...friends.”
Anya frowned, as if realizing that she was fast losing control of the situation. “Please remember we told you that—”
“I knew something was going on between the two of you long before anyone else,” came back Meera. God, his daughter had a smart mouth on her. “Even before you were caught smooching in public.”
