Guardian Knight

by Aarti V Raman

  Love was inconvenient and messy and made mincemeat of a man and he---

  “I love her.” It came out before he could stop the admission.

  “Alright, I said it. I love her. I love that stubborn brave woman. And I am scared. I am scared that she doesn’t want me anymore.” Brand was glowering at the smiling men.

  “My advice is you should tell her that,” Sebastian offered, blowing a ring out.

  “Did you hear me, pals mine? I am scared to death. She left me, with good reason and I have to apologize and…”

  “To be fair, you left her first,” Sebastian said logically.

  “You lied to her while you were sleeping with her. Smart women don’t put up with crap like that. Not that you would know about such women since, you know, thousand dollar hookers don’t count.” Henry grinned to show no offence.

  Brand glared at him.

  “You were almost dead when they brought you back, Brand. You would have, if she hadn’t sat and talked to your worthless, concrete brain,” Sebastian reminded him.

  “Low-blow,” Brand murmured, considering the idea for the first time.

  “If all that’s stopping you is the fact that you’re scared, then you’re on the right track.” Henry nodded approval. “How about we check in on you, in oh, about two weeks, telling you of the gorgeous businessman her mother has her sights on. He’s from South India, same community as the Naiks, old money, even has political aspirations. You know how much Akira loves politics.”

  Brand gave him a burning look. “You’ve been checking on her?”

  “Rumi has,” Henry replied softly. “Rumi’s shattered by everything too, you know. And she thinks Akira might give in to her mother’s peas this time, considering she is currently jobless and with a ruined career.”

  “Her career’s not ruined!” Brand defended her instantly. “Akira’s a brilliant reporter.”

  Henry put a hand on Brand’s shoulder, it was stiff as a rock. “Brandon, just go see her. Even if she kicks your ass. You earned it.”

  Sebastian burst out laughing.

  Brandon gave a ghostly smile. “I did earn it. And I suppose I should check up on her, shouldn’t I?”

  “Fuck, yes!” Henry hugged Brand in the acceptable manly way, one arm around a shoulder and a single clap to the back.

  A hug which Brand returned with only half his mind. The rest of his brain was busy plotting his next move.

  “Henry,” he said finally.

  “You have a tux I can borrow?”

  Henry grinned. “Fuck, yeah. I do.”

  ~~~~~

  Akira tilted the phone screen a little to the side, so she could finish stretching. Rumi’s worried face filled the screen.

  “You shouldn’t be doing that,” Rumi muttered.

  “What? Yoga?” Akira sat down in the lotus pose, feeling the chill breeze of Juhu Beach waft over her. One of the only things she loved about her parents’ pricey residence in this posh suburb was the proximity to the sea.

  She could come here to think and grieve and exercise when the mood took her. As it did, most days. Being jobless suited her, Akira’d discovered. She could sleep and scroll the internet for hours without it being life or death and…if she sometimes worried about her lack of passion and purpose, she figured being in several life or death situations was enough excuse to bum about for the next decade if she so wished.

  Certainly, her parents, God bless them, weren’t done fussing with her. Even though they didn’t know the full story of what happened in Monaco.

  “Yes. Won’t you pull some stitches or something?”

  Akira smiled. “I’m fine, Rumana. Please stop worrying about me.”

  Rumi frowned. “You sound just like Bra…” She bit her lip, contrite. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Akira sighed, and gave up the lotus pose. Allowed her body to slump into its original banana pose. “We can’t avoid his name like he’s Voldemort, you know. It’s okay, Rumi. He is Henry’s friend. There is no divided loyalty here.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “No, but,” Akira said firmly. “Also, I really hope he isn’t doing strenuous exercise so soon after surgery.” Six weeks, four days and three hours. She wasn’t keeping count, exactly.

  “Brand’s Brand. He is a law unto himself.” Rumi touched the screen in a supplicating gesture. “He doesn’t talk about it but he misses you. He misses you, Akira.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Akira snapped. “And don’t you dare defend him, Rumi. He is scum.”

  Rumi nodded instantly. “That he is. He knows that. And I’m not defending him, Akira. I’m just telling you what he’s feeling.”

  “It is of no concern to me what he’s feeling. Or not.” She was really proud of her steady voice. It could win her acting awards, while inside she crumbled like a Parle G biscuit dunked in lukewarm tea.

  It made no sense to her and she’d tried to talk herself out of it, but the stupid, pointless, everlasting love that had bloomed in her from the second she’d seen Brandon Rice still remained. It hadn’t withered to ashes from the weight of Sebastian’s revelations, Brandon’s death scare and distance sure as hell hadn’t diminished it.

  Was she still as furious with him as she’d been in Monaco? Yes. Every day. Every hour.

  But, unfair as it was, she loved him too. And she missed him too, damn him!

  “It’s obvious to me that you care,” Rumi pointed out gently.

  Akira glared at her. “Whose best friend are you, Rumi?”

  “Yours,” Rumi answered promptly. “And that’s why I am saying what I am saying.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “People make mistakes, sweetie,” Rumi said grimly. “Sometimes, really huge, devastating ones. But that doesn’t mean that we can't get past them. We can't grow up. We women are the ones with the brains, Akira. Use yours.”

  “He lied to me about everything, Rumi. Worse.” Hot tears rushed to her eyes, streaked down her cheeks before she could stop them. “He put Shanaya’s life in danger. How can I forgive him that?”

  “By forgiving yourself,” Rumi spoke rustily. “What happened to Shanaya isn’t either of your fault, sweetie.”

  Akira wiped her tears away and sniffed inelegantly. “Only you’d see through my rage to the self-loathing underneath.”

  Rumi smiled shakily. “That’s because we are ride or die, aren’t we?” She continued before Akira could answer. “And you deserve to be happy. With Brandon if that’s what you want.”

  “And what if I’m not what he wants?” she asked the question that haunted her. The one thing that fazed her unfazed will and confidence.

  Brandon Rice had never chosen her. He’d tolerated her, he’d desired her; he’d protected her above and beyond the call of duty. But none of that constituted love. Not the stuff people wrote novels or songs about.

  And even if it wasn’t romantic, idealized love, she still deserved to be chosen for herself. Faults and all.

  “Then make him want you,” Rumi said firmly.

  Akira chuckled at the sensible, comprehensive answer. It was so like Rumi.

  Have a problem, solve it. A guy isn’t in love with you, make him.

  Like it was logical. Like it was permissible.

  “Anyway, I…” Rumi’s eyes widened.

  “What?” Akira touched the phone screen in an instinctive gesture of panic. “What happened, Rumi?”

  “I have to go. Right now. I love you and I’ll talk to you…after.” Rumi was vague as she ended the call so abruptly, Akira’s heart thudded in her chest.

  “What the…” She muttered to herself, trying to redial her number. When the number came busy, she shook her head. “I’ll never understand that woman.”

  “Me too,” said Brandon from somewhere behind her.

  Fifty-Three

  Akira closed her eyes even as she whirled around to trace the source of the voice. Clearly, a symptom of hallucination because Brand couldn’t be her
e…in Mumbai. At Juhu freaking beach!

  She saw a tuxedoed Brand holding a bunch of flowers and a box of her favorite ice-cream.

  He straightened as he saw her.

  His eyes widened, and his hair, longer than before, blew across his face in the beach breeze.

  Instinctively, she catalogued all the changes in him in the first few seconds of seeing him.

  He was styled to within an inch of his life, in Armani, no less. His hair was longer which meant that he hadn’t had time from rehab to cut it. And thankfully, there were no scars from the cuts that Castle had given him.

  She’d worried about that. All that perfect masculinity marred by scars.

  He looked as vital and handsome as before, if a little leaner around the cheekbones. And there were dark circles under his eyes. Like he’d had a lot of sleepless nights.

  Good. She hoped he’d never sleep again without imagining all the horrible, horrible things he’d done to her.

  But she couldn’t hear his moving mouth. Hear anything right now. There was a strange rushing sound in her ears, like the tide crashing on the shore. Like her heartbeat sounding loud in her head.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she snarled.

  Brand’s eyes widened at her hostile tone but he answered deferentially, “I came to see you. Well, your mother and you, if I’m being precise.”

  “And let’s be precise, shall we?” Akira was shaking with the anger coursing through her, now that she knew he was real.

  He was here. He’d come for her.

  “Akira,” he began uneasily, taking a step toward her.

  “You lying sack of shit,” she said calmly. “Don’t you dare come near me.”

  Brand winced, halted his progress. “I’m sorry.”

  “What all can you be sorry for, Brandon?” she hurled at him. “Where should we start?”

  He huffed out a breath. “I am sorry you had to…do what you did in Monaco. For me. I’m sure you didn’t want to spend another second with me.”

  Akira laughed. And if it sounded bitter to her ears, then that was nobody’s business but hers. “That’s quite alright, Brandon. You’re welcome. Consider us even now. For all the times you had to save my stupid ass.”

  “Yes, well…” He again seemed unsure.

  Like he didn’t know what to say, and that was ridiculous. Brandon Rice could lie through every single one of his perfectly shaped teeth.

  It was unfair, so unfair.

  “If that’s all.” She turned to go, when he caught her arm.

  “Wait,” he said, almost desperately.

  “What?” She was exasperated now and it showed.

  ~~~~

  Brand was struck dumb for a single second just looking at her. For so long he’d dreamed of looking at her, talking to her, touching her. And in all his dreams she’d responded a little differently.

  A little more joy, a little less annoyance on her incredibly expressive and beloved face. Just a little.

  He supposed it came from dreaming about her telling him that she loved him. But maybe that’s all it had been. A pleasant dream.

  She looked delectable in her hot pink yoga pants and ripped tank top that showed off her newly toned body, thanks to all the working out. Her hair, rippling down her back in waves, blew on her face and Brand couldn’t help it.

  He reached a shaking hand and brushed it back.

  Akira slapped him in return, her eyes burning like molten gold. He flinched but didn’t waver. She did it again. Slapping the other cheek. And when that didn’t work, she punched his arm. Over and over, and for good measure, she kicked at his left shin.

  Tears streamed down her face as she hit him, her blows landing exactly where she wanted them to. Because she’d taken self-defense classes and knew where to hurt.

  And still he stood, like a statue. Accepting all her anger and her curses and her beating.

  “Fight me,” she whispered. As one of her kicks nearly took out his leg and Brand staggered back. “Fight me, you bastard. Feel something.”

  She sagged against him, and his arms came automatically around her. Bolstering her, holding her upright while his heart, it physically hurt in his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m so sorry, Akira. Sorry for so many things. For everything. For only trusting you with half the truth, and not even the right half. Sorry for not telling you about Sebastian.” In his haste and nervousness, his words lost their polish.

  His accent became rougher.

  Akira raised streaming, defiant eyes to his. And he cautiously, hopefully, used his thumbs to wipe her tears. Her face crumbled at the gesture so he spoke faster.

  “Sorry for using you as bait, using you, period. Sorry for every last little thing.”

  “You hurt me, Brandon. I thought you trusted me.”

  He tried to cup her jaw. “I trust you with my life, Akira.”

  She shook her head swiftly. “You don’t. You don’t.” Pain laced her words. “You never trusted me. Not when we were in bed, and not out of it.”

  He framed her face in shaking hands and this time, she let him. “I never trusted myself to keep the most amazing woman it’s been my incredible honor to know. But, I always trusted you, Akira. I’d not have taken you to that fucking yacht otherwise.”

  ~~~~~

  Akira considered the earnestness, the very logic of his statement, even as she cautioned herself against…feeling anything. Feeling hope, that insidious creature.

  “I accept that,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done, Brandon.”

  He nodded, solemnly, heartbreakingly beautiful. “I know. I’ll always regret not being honest with you from the first moment. From the very first moment.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because if I’d told you how I felt about you from the start, you’d know I wasn’t lying.”

  Akira’s heart kickstarted in her chest. She clutched at his arms and felt something tickle her nose. She frowned and looked at the stuff he still held. “What’s all this?”

  Brandon smiled. “Well, the ice-cream’s for you, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?” He gave her the dripping box and she accepted it, mystified.

  “And the flowers?” It was a very expensive bouquet full of colorful and exotic flowers. Nothing cheap or Indian, for that mattered.

  Brandon shrugged. “They’re for your mother. And before you get mad at me for it, Rumi told me to get something nice for your mother. She said that would soften your dad up and I needed his blessing if I had to do this properly.”

  Akira felt dizzy. “Dad’s blessing? What are you talking about, Brandon? You’re not making any sense.”

  Brandon brushed her hair back from her face and spoke quietly, wonderingly, ““You once asked me why I am compelled to save your life all the time.”

  She looked at him then. Way up at him, since she wasn’t wearing heels. And the world stopped, her heart stopped. At the way he was looking at her.

  Like he’d never seen her. Like he’d go on seeing her if the world ended. Only her.

  “Yeah. I asked for the damn moon too… doesn’t mean I am going to get it.”

  “It’s so you can save me right back, Ariana.”

  He told her softly, while he laid his hands on her shoulders.

  She didn’t. But tears did fill her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  Brand nodded. “That’s okay. I expected that. So, I have a plan.”

  The tears dried up at his casual words. “Plan?” She gave him a wary look. “What plan?”

  “My plan is to spend the rest of my life convincing you to trust me.”

  Hope flooded her chest in a tidal wave. Immediate and brutal. And she was in danger of being swept away in its undertow, joy. “Don’t you have your next security job lined up? Some other one percenter to save? Some country that’s on the brink of anarchy?”

  Brand shook his head. “I’ve retired from the worl
d-saving business. Handed over the reins to Luke. He’s ready. And with Jared the team’s still intact.”

  “Oh.”

  Brand brought his kissable lips within kissing distance. “Oh, yeah. Being around is all the danger and excitement I need, Akira Naik.”

  “So, we’re both jobless, then.”