‘Because I can’t lose him,’ Nidhi said in a strangled whisper.
Vikram felt an uneasy prickling at the back of his neck. ‘What do you mean?’
Nidhi paused, as though assessing her words. ‘Papa had two heart attacks after you left, Viks. The first one happened a week before my twelfth-standard board exams and the second one happened when I was in Mumbai.’
Vikram stared at her in shock. ‘That’s why you moved back to Delhi?’
She nodded. ‘I can’t lose him, Viks.’
Vikram took a deep breath. ‘I get it, Nidhi. Trust me, I do. I grew up without parents and it’s not something I’d wish on anyone. But the solution isn’t to spend the rest of your life with someone you don’t even like, let alone love.’
‘If it makes Papa happy, it’s worth it,’ Nidhi said, feigning conviction she didn’t feel.
‘The two things aren’t related, Nidhi,’ Vikram said, uncharacteristically calm. ‘Marrying someone your father approves of isn’t a guarantee of his good health.’
‘I’m not willing to take a chance.’
‘You’re being ridiculous!’ Vikram bit out, tightening his grasp on her shoulders.
Nidhi was as shocked by the force of his words as she was by his harsh grip. She swallowed and pushed her chin up. ‘Let me go, Vikram.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘You can’t marry him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because.’
Nidhi gave a mirthless laugh. ‘“Because”? That’s a convincing argument.’
‘You want a convincing argument? I’ll give you a convincing argument!’ Vikram growled, right before his mouth swooped down on hers in a possessive kiss. He cupped her face in his hands, claiming her lips with a passion that stunned her. The kiss was hungry and intense, but it was also coaxing. Like he was actually trying to convince her that he was the only man in the world she should ever kiss.
And he was very, very convincing.
When Vikram lifted his mouth, Nidhi’s fingers instinctively flew to her lips to stifle a moan.
What a waste of the last twelve years, she thought. Because damn, this man could kiss.
Her entire body trembled with anticipation and she yearned to taste him again. She longed to fuel the fire that had started as a small ember over a decade ago and blazed into a full-fledged inferno the moment his lips had touched hers.
Vikram pulled her into his arms and she burrowed into his neck, breathing the rough, masculine scent of him, feeling the thundering of his heart against hers.
After a few moments, when sense prevailed, the first emotion to wash over Nidhi was guilt. She lifted her head and drew away, walking past him to take a seat on the edge of his bed. ‘This is wrong,’ she whispered, staring at her hands.
‘This is right, Nidhi,’ he said huskily.
‘I can’t do this to him,’ she choked.
‘You barely know him,’ Vikram said, trying not to lose his cool.
‘Not Kuku! I mean Papa. I can’t do this to Papa,’ she said miserably.
Vikram’s restraint broke and his voice shook with fury. ‘Your father is a tyrannical busybody who thinks it’s his birthright to interfere in the lives of others!’
‘That’s unfair!’ Nidhi flung back.
‘Really?’ Vikram said with cold disdain. ‘Then twelve years ago, why did he proactively seek me out to tell me what you had said about me.’
Nidhi’s face flushed with embarrassment. ‘Why are you bringing this up now?’
‘Because we never talked about it. We need to talk about it,’ he said firmly, sitting next to her.
‘I thought we were over it!’ she cried, feeling humiliated.
‘I never got over it, Nidhi,’ Vikram said quietly. ‘I was heartbroken.’
Nidhi raised her shocked gaze to his. ‘You were heartbroken? You were the one who broke my heart!’
‘What are you talking about?’ he said harshly. ‘Your father told me that the only reason you were friends with me was because you felt sorry for “poor little orphan Vikram’’. And you only kissed me out of pity.’
‘No,’ Nidhi said in a choked whisper. ‘No!’
The realization that followed hit Vikram like a ton of bricks. He saw the torment in Nidhi’s eyes and he knew. He knew that every word Balraj Marwah had spoken to him that night when he was fourteen and hopelessly in love with this sweet, loyal girl had been a lie.
‘You didn’t say that,’ he stated flatly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘I didn’t, Viks. I would never—’
‘I know,’ he said gently, pulling her into his arms.
‘I swear, I never—’
‘I know, Nidhi,’ he said in a ragged whisper. ‘I know.’
She sobbed against his chest, drenching the front of his shirt with her tears, and Vikram let her cry. He rubbed her back and whispered softly. ‘I’m here, Nidhi. I’m right here.’
She cried like her heart was about to break, and Vikram held her, powerless to comfort or console her. He cringed as Mangal’s words came back to him.
‘Every morning the dustbin was full of used tissue papers.’
A wave of anger swept through Vikram—at her callous, heartless father. And then he remembered Nidhi’s guilty expression that night.
‘Is it true, Nidhi?’ Vikram had asked. ‘Is that really how you feel about me?’
Vikram raised her chin with his index finger and gazed into her eyes. ‘So what exactly did you admit to that night? What did you tell your father?’
‘I told him that I loved you.’
Amid his astonishment, a wave of pleasure shot through Vikram. But he didn’t have an opportunity to process either emotion, because another sob shuddered through Nidhi and when she looked at him through her veil of tears, desolate and defeated, Vikram had to physically fight back the tears forming in his own eyes.
He gathered her gently in his arms, and for a brief moment, Nidhi felt like she was fourteen again, sitting on his porch and crying in his arms, taking comfort in his embrace. Except that he was no longer a gullible, powerless little boy. He was a man—a strong, self-assured, but also unbelievably gentle, man.
‘I c-can’t believe Papa would d-do that to me,’ she hiccupped. ‘You were my best friend.’
‘I still am,’ he said with such finality that a fresh set of tears welled up in her eyes.
He shook his head and cupped her face in his hands. ‘Don’t cry, Nidhi. I can’t take it any more,’ he begged, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Nidhi made a valiant effort to hold back her tears. She clung to him to keep from crying, to keep from falling apart. She rubbed her cheek against his shirt and slid her hands over the muscular width of his sculpted shoulders, trying to absorb some of his pain.
She lifted her gaze to his and the stormy intensity in her eyes was his undoing. When she raised her mouth to his, Vikram inhaled sharply. When she brushed her lips over his, he groaned. When her tongue darted boldly between his lips, he lowered her on to the bed, giving her complete control of his mouth. And his heart.
I love you, he thought.
He swirled his tongue around hers, exploring the warmth of her mouth, learning the taste of her. It was the moment he had built up in his head for years. How many times had he woken up unable to breathe, panting, gasping from a dream in which he was doing exactly this? And more.
Nidhi belonged with him.
I love you.
The words rose inside his chest, strangling him with their need to be said.
Nidhi’s eyes locked with his, as though she had heard the unspoken proclamation. And that’s when Vikram saw it. The forest fire in her eyes. Except this time it wasn’t anger that had set her eyes ablaze. It was desire—unconcealable and untameable. She moulded her body to his, fitting herself perfectly to his hard contours.
‘Vikram,’ she breathed softly.
And in that moment, Vikram felt complete. Just a kiss
with Nidhi had shattered him like nothing he’d ever experienced. They were both completely clothed and yet Vikram had never felt so wholly satisfied in his life.
‘Stay with me,’ he whispered. She hesitated and he pressed his mouth to her collarbone. ‘Stay . . . please.’ She was about to voice another concern, but he pre-empted it by placing a finger on her lips. ‘You can jump over the gate in the morning,’ he said, flashing one of his famous crooked smiles.
And just like that, Nidhi was convinced. ‘Okay.’
Vikram let out a breath of relief and touched his forehead to hers. ‘Thank you.’
Vikram woke up in bed, alone.
He smiled at the first thought that crossed his mind.
‘I told him that I loved you.’
His eyes snapped open.
Nidhi had loved him. And whether she was ready to admit it or not, she still loved him.
Vikram had felt it last night, in the way she responded to his kisses. And he had felt it several times over the last month, in every suppressed smile and every teasing remark. Heck, even in every snarky quip and sarcastic insult that came out of her sexy mouth.
Unfortunately, Nidhi’s opinion of Vikram’s character was vastly influenced by what she had read in the papers. But she was smart enough to realize that there was seldom more than an iota of truth in tabloid gossip.
How often had a brand appearance with a female celebrity turned into a ‘dinner date’? Or a conversation at a gym been reported as ‘couples’ spa’? Or a party he had shown his face at for barely an hour turned into a ‘booty call’? Ironically, Vikram’s interaction with the majority of women he was photographed with had been limited to a polite greeting.
True, he couldn’t deny that he had slept with a few women, but the number was nowhere close to what was estimated by the media. And if he’d had even the slightest inkling that he would find Nidhi again, he would’ve led his life very differently till this point.
His entire body hardened with pleasure as he replayed the events of the night gone by.
Nidhi always looked so proper and put-together that the memory of her hair sprawled on his pillow in a careless disarray made his heart leap with pride. He loved just how improper she had looked last night—wild, primitive, carefree. Just like the girl he had grown up loving.
‘I told him that I loved you.’
Twelve years ago, this beautiful, brave girl had admitted to loving him. And he had thrown that love in her face by telling her that she was a stupid tomboy whose kisses meant nothing to him. And that he hated her.
Although Vikram had tried to control his anger for Nidhi’s sake earlier, he now felt a fresh surge of fury at Balraj Marwah. The man’s ruthless sadism and selfishness made Vikram’s blood boil. Last night, Nidhi had turned her pleading eyes to him and whispered, ‘Maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding. Maybe Papa didn’t mean it?’
The most important relationship of Vikram’s life had almost irreparably been destroyed by that man, so Vikram was far from feeling charitable towards Balraj Marwah. But the pain in Nidhi’s eyes had made him swallow his scathing summation of her father’s connivance. ‘Maybe,’ he had gritted, even though he didn’t believe it.
Perhaps, Vikram thought with a twinge of humour, denouncing her evil father wasn’t the best way of endearing himself to the girl he loved.
The only girl he had ever loved.
Nidhi dropped her head on Risha’s coffee table. ‘I can’t do it.’
Risha stretched out her legs on the couch and took a sip of her Kingfisher Ultra. ‘Then don’t.’
Nidhi gave her a look.
‘Stop being a baby, Nidhi,’ Tanvi snapped impatiently. ‘Just say no.’
‘I tried!’ Nidhi whined.
‘Try harder,’ Tanvi retorted bluntly.
Risha gave Tanvi a warning look. Over the last hour, the girls had gone through two kathi rolls and two beers each, while Nidhi updated them on what they had started referring to as ‘The Kuku Catastrophe’.
‘You’re talking about the rest of your life, Nidhi. Marriage is no joke.’ Risha frowned.
‘I know,’ Nidhi whispered miserably. ‘But you didn’t see the bitter disappointment in Papa’s eyes when I told him I didn’t want to marry Kuku.’
‘So he’ll be disappointed for a while, then he’ll get over it.’ Tanvi shrugged.
What if he doesn’t? Nidhi thought to herself, as Tanvi continued, ‘And anyway, arranged marriage is for chumps. Learn from Risha, she has been avoiding matrimonials from her parents for years.’
‘Thank you, thank you!’ Risha grinned, blowing kisses to her imaginary fans.
Tanvi opened her mouth to say something, then stopped.
‘What?’ Nidhi probed.
Tanvi paused. ‘You have to learn to say no to your father, Nidhi.’
Nidhi nodded, absently picking at the residual pudina chutney in her plate with her index finger. ‘I don’t want to go out with Kuku again. He creeps me out,’ she admitted.
Risha raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s a bit . . . handsy.’ Nidhi cringed. ‘And it makes me uncomfortable. I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow night, but I really want to get out of it.’
Tanvi narrowed her eyes. ‘Brushing-his-hand-against-yours-casually handsy or attempting-to-grope-you-without-your-permission handsy?’
‘The latter,’ Nidhi admitted with annoyance.
Risha saw the temper flare in Tanvi’s eyes and quickly turned to Nidhi. ‘Did you tell your dad about that?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Because it’s not worth giving him another heart attack over.
‘I didn’t want to freak him out.’ Nidhi shrugged. ‘And maybe it was a weird one-off thing because he’d been drinking.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Being a creepy asshole is never a one-off,’ Tanvi snarled.
‘I agree. You need to tell your dad about it,’ Risha said firmly. ‘I seriously doubt he wants you to spend the rest of your life with a drunken lech.’
Nidhi pursed her lips. ‘It means a lot to Papa. He thinks Kuku is a “sensible” choice, and if I marry him, the law firm will stay in the family.’
‘I’m sure your dad cares more about your happiness than about finding an heir to his corporate throne,’ Risha said. ‘Right, Shorty?’
‘Right,’ Tanvi muttered unconvincingly.
Nidhi sighed in frustration. Why did Kuku have to be so obnoxious?
‘I have an idea,’ Risha began, and Nidhi felt a wave of affection at her friend’s enthusiasm. ‘How about you invite your dad on the date? Ask him to join you guys for dinner, so he can witness first-hand what a jerk Kuku is!’
Nidhi’s eyes lit up. ‘You want me to sabotage the date?’
‘Yes,’ Tanvi said emphatically.
‘No,’ Risha said, rolling her eyes. ‘I just want you to encourage Kuku to drink enough to show his true colours.’
‘I think I can manage that. Papa absolutely despises public scenes, so when Kuku starts misbehaving at the restaurant, it will automatically be a deal-breaker,’ Nidhi said hopefully.
‘Exactly!’ Risha chuckled, rubbing her hands with glee. ‘Now, here’s what you should do . . .’
Nidhi’s ‘date’ was not going as planned. Her father’s assistant had called to inform her that ‘Mr Marwah and Mr Kukreja will be stuck in a meeting till late’ and that he had cancelled the reservation at House of Ming and asked Mangal Singh to cook dinner at home instead.
So much for a public scene, Nidhi grumbled to herself.
She was about to reach for her phone to call Risha when a tennis ball whizzed into her room, thwacking her on the forearm. She winced and rubbed her arm, purposefully walking to her window to chastise the culprit. But the ‘culprit’ wasn’t a group of young kids playing on the street.
It was one annoyingly handsome cricketer, standing at his bedroom window with a bat in one hand, tennis ball in the other and a grin
on his face.
‘No wonder you’re off the team!’ Nidhi yelled. ‘Your aim sucks.’
‘On the contrary.’ Vikram smirked, throwing the ball in the air, smacking it with his bat and sending it careening into her room. It missed Nidhi’s ear by a hair’s breadth and this time she knew that was exactly what he had intended.
The arrogance of this man!
‘What do you want?’ Nidhi snapped.
‘I want to know,’ he said, reaching for another ball, ‘why you’re avoiding me. Again.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ she warned, watching him toss the ball in the air.
He caught it in his hand and lowered his bat. ‘So tell me.’
‘I’m not avoiding you,’ she lied, avoiding his eyes.
The ball came swooshing in through the window, ricocheting off Nidhi’s shoulder into her room.
‘Ow!’ she yelped, rubbing her shoulder. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘Answer my question,’ Vikram said, throwing another ball in the air and letting it see-saw on his knuckles before tossing it back up and catching it deftly in one hand.
‘I’m not avoiding you!’ she hissed. ‘And stop throwing your balls at me.’ Vikram burst out laughing and Nidhi flushed. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Pick up the phone,’ he said, reaching for his cell phone without moving his gaze from hers. He redialled the number he had tried half a dozen times since the morning.
Nidhi picked up. ‘You are so annoying!’
‘And you are driving me crazy with this blow-hot-and-cold attitude,’ Vikram said, sounding frustrated.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, turning around so he wouldn’t see the blatant lie on her face.
Another ball flew in and smacked her, this time on her behind.
She whipped around, her green eyes blazing with anger.
‘Okay, okay. Sorry!’ Vikram laughed, enjoying the fire in her eyes. This was his Nidhi. Well, not his Nidhi, but the Nidhi he had grown up with. Fiery, tempestuous, passionate.
‘I swear to God, Viks, if you do that one more time, I’ll close the window and never open it again,’ she threatened.
Man of Her Match Page 16
