Free The Bollywood Bride by Sonali Dev Page B

on the adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins.
    “How is he, by the way? Your—” He swallowed. “I’m sorry, if he’s old enough to be your father, do you still call him your boy friend?”
    A horrible ache filled Ria.
    “Tell me, does he need his goons to do all his work for him? Or just beating the crap out of the poor fucks you’re done with?”
    Ria closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at him. Memories of his bleeding face, his battered, limping body, swam in her head. Ved’s bodyguards had tried to send him away when he came to see her after he returned from Brazil and found her gone. But he’d refused to back down until they let him talk to her, attacking them, over and over, like a desperate bird flying into glass. Finally, she had feared for his life and agreed to see him. She had let Ved hold her, pretended to want Ved’s arms around her even as her skin crawled and her stomach churned. Vikram had taken a beating without wincing, but the sight of her in Ved’s arms had broken him, as she’d known it would. He had walked away without a backward glance.
    Ria opened her eyes. He watched her, his eyes fixed on her face. For one fleeting second, she saw the pain tearing through her heart mirrored in his eyes.
    He took a quick step back, his jaw working furiously. “Damn it.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shoved his fingers through his hair, clutching the jet-black strands until his knuckles turned white. For the longest moment he stood utterly still.
    When he opened his eyes a curtain had fallen over them again. “You’re good.” He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “You’re really good. I didn’t stand a chance, did I? Hell, your sugar-fuckin’-daddy didn’t stand a chance, did he?” A short, mirthless laugh whooshed out of him. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I can see right through you now. Right fucking through you.”
    Her knees buckled. She sagged against the unyielding granite digging into her back. Deep dark exhaustion closed around her. This time the silence in the room was impregnable. Vikram gave her one last look, challenging her to say more, then walked to the table and picked up his bowl and brought it to the sink. She was still in his way, but it didn’t seem to bother him anymore. He leaned across her and dumped the bowl on the pile of dishes.
    Through the deadening hurt, his fresh musky scent washed over her. Another achingly familiar piece broke from the tangle of memories and clicked into place. She felt the thick steel of armor he’d drawn around himself and moved to get away from it. But he moved too, rushing to get away from her, and his arm brushed hers. All on its own, her body leaned into his touch.
    He jerked away.
    Mortified, she withdrew into herself. Breath gushed from him—short, heavy bursts as he backed away. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. But she heard the haste in his steps, heard him yank open the basement door and run down the stairs.
    For a long while she slumped there like a rag doll, hair spilling around her face, his footsteps ringing in her ears, his scent filling her senses, his touch gouging out memories that were thorns lodged too deep.
    She forced herself to turn to the sink and attacked the pile of pots and pans, seeking out each grimy patch of dried-up food and assaulting it as if it were the abomination. When the sink gleamed, each dish propped meticulously in the dishwasher, she turned to the countertops, spraying and scrubbing until her fingers wrinkled up like prunes. Everything gleamed, but nothing felt clean.
    I can see right through you.
    She stormed to the basement door and pulled it open. But she couldn’t make herself take a step down.
    What was the point? What could she say to him? I threw up in Ved’s toilet after you left. And I didn’t stop until I had passed out from it. Letting Ved touch me where you had touched me hurt so much, I’ve never