Married for One Reason Only

by Dani Collins

  As she had been for much of her life.

  Her throat closed and her eyes grew hot. She could hardly speak.

  “You’re a romantic,” she chided.

  “I am not,” he said with indignation. Then, with gentle affection, he added, “But I think you are, given your games here. I don’t know what sort of white horse or dream castle I can offer you that you can’t buy or make or achieve for yourself, but we’re going to be a family. I think we can make a strong one if we go all in. I think we can make it work, even though it won’t be ideal.”

  That was really what a family was—wholehearted, unconditional commitment. She knew that. It was how she already felt toward their child, and she believed he felt the same. It only made sense that they would close that final link between them.

  The hollow pang that had sat in her heart all her life said, But he doesn’t love you, and he’s said he won’t be able to love you too. It hurt quite a lot to acknowledge that, especially when that same ache made her fear she would never be loved, that there was some flaw in her that made it impossible for her to be cherished the way she longed to be.

  That was something she had to resolve within herself, though. She had to believe she was worth being loved and not put it on others to prove it. Besides, maybe Lakshmi hadn’t been given a choice about giving her up. By revealing that, Vijay had already gone a long way to helping her heal all those old insecurities inside her. She was grateful to him for that.

  The even starker truth was, even if he never loved her, she knew she could love him. She was already halfway there. Maybe he hadn’t been completely honest when they first met, but in the time since, he’d been considerate and protective and open in a way that must have been difficult for him. She admired the man he’d made of himself and knew she wasn’t done learning who that man was.

  It was terrifying to let her heart make such a huge decision for her, but she moved to perch on his bent leg and cupped his stubbled jaw. Her voice shook with unsteady emotion.

  “Yes, I will marry you, Vijay.”

  He closed his arms tightly around her. His hot mouth captured hers. It was sweet and so intense it would have been frightening if he hadn’t been so tender about it.

  As tears of joy and trepidation burned behind her closed eyelids, she heard a faint cheer go up.

  They broke away to see the family of tourists had been watching from a distance.

  She and Vijay tipped their heads together in embarrassed laughter. Then he grasped her close to balance her while he got them both upright on their feet.

  As he slipped the ring onto her finger, he said, “I’d prefer to marry as soon as possible.”

  “I have a few days of vacation left.” She wrinkled her nose. “How do you feel about eloping?”

  “Done.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY MARRIED IN a brief civil ceremony in Gibraltar. Oriel wore a cream-colored skirt with a pale rose top that set off the golden tones in her skin. Vijay was in a gray suit and tie. Their wedding was short, solemn and profound. Vijay hadn’t approached his marriage lightly, but he hadn’t expected such a depth of pride and satisfaction once their rings were on their fingers, either.

  It felt like a beginning, a fresh one that held more promise than he’d allowed himself to believe in for a long time.

  They returned to the chateau, where they called Kiran. She happened to be with Jalil, so they told them their news at the same time they told Oriel’s parents. Everyone was ecstatic to hear a baby was on the way.

  “I’m going to be an auntie.” Kiran clapped with delight. “I can’t wait to hug my very own sister!”

  “I’m excited for that, too, but I have commitments in New York,” Oriel said with an apologetic glance at Vijay. She had told him that as they’d been on their way to the registry office. “I have to meet with my agent, tell him everything that’s happened. Figure out what my career will look like moving forward.”

  “Oh, but... Vijay, I thought you were coming home?” Kiran asked.

  “I am.” He had barely finagled this week in France as it was. The building up of the Asian division was fully underway, and he’d been paid to ensure it went smoothly.

  He didn’t like starting their marriage apart, though. It felt like they were getting off on the wrong foot, and his worst niggling doubts had resurfaced. He was trying to tell himself this was the sort of test that would be good for them in the long run—provided they passed it—but the separation still annoyed him.

  “Vijay is bringing copies of everything my parents have on my adoption,” Oriel said. “Perhaps you and Jalil can find something that ties back to Gouresh Bakshi. My parents are happy to make inquiries on this end, but we don’t want to misstep and tip him off that you’re investigating how he might have behaved with Lakshmi.”

  Jalil was pleased with that lead, and they soon signed off.

  The rest of the day was relaxed, and Vijay tried not to think about the fact that they were flying in different directions the next morning, but when they made love that night, they were both more aggressive than usual. Oriel laid claim to him with her mouth and hands. He did everything he could to imprint on her that they were one.

  They were both sweaty and near comatose after, but she woke him in the night, kissing him with a frantic urgency that lit his fire all over again.

  He pried her nails out of his hair and pressed her hand to the mattress, pinning her with his weight. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid something will happen and I won’t see you again.”

  “This won’t be like last time.” He sucked flagrantly on her earlobe and settled himself with proprietary ease between her soft thighs. “You’re my wife.”

  He was an absolute Neanderthal because he loved saying that. My wife. Mine. “I would travel the world to come after you now. Don’t you know that?”

  “I’ve always been fine traveling on my own. I like not answering to anyone, but it suddenly seems very lonely.”

  “You’re not alone, priyatama.” He shifted so he could roam his hand across her stomach. He circled her navel with his thumb, then caressed up to her breast, cupping the warm swell. They kissed long and slow.

  When she reached between them and guided him, he pressed into her heat.

  They stayed locked like that a long time, shifting here and there, mostly kissing and caressing and reinforcing their bond. When he heard the sweet moan reverberate in her throat and her sheath clenched hungrily around his erection, he gave them both what they were aching for. He began to thrust with tender power.

  As the storm brewed, he felt her growing tense beneath him.

  “Wait,” he commanded raggedly, wanting them to hit the peak together. His lower back tingled, and a feral noise gathered in his throat. “Now.”

  Her voice broke on a scream of agonized pleasure. They seemed caught in the stasis of orgasm for eternity. Wave after wave rolled through him while her body milked at his. He lost track of which one of them convulsed or moaned, which sobbed or made wordless noises of bliss. He knew only that they were in this singular place together.

  And when they parted the next day, he went home with an empty ache inside him far bigger than the one she’d left in him last time.

  * * *

  A morose cloud descended on Oriel the minute she left Vijay. By the time she was in New York, she was struggling harder than she ever had in her life to find a smile.

  Her priorities had completely shifted. Her mind was around the other side of the planet, wondering what her husband was doing. Her most important goal had become a need to put down roots so her baby would have a home when they arrived. All of her work commitments became obstacles to what she really wanted.

  She sat down with Payton two days after arriving and told him everything.

  His jaw went slack, but he was very understanding.


  “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t point out that you could capitalize on the connection,” he said in the middle of their discussion.

  “No,” Oriel said firmly. “I know how many doors a famous mother opens, but I don’t want to do that to Lakshmi. I have a feeling she’s been exploited enough. No, the baby will be my priority for the next year, at least. I want to scale back. Cancel everything you can. If that means I have to start from scratch when I’m ready to work again, so be it.”

  “You will never have to worry about that, but I hear what you’re saying.” He promised to begin making calls.

  She phoned Vijay from the car afterward.

  “You sound upset,” he noted. “I thought you were going to try to work while you were pregnant, not choose the nuclear option.”

  “Yes, but as I sat there, I knew this was what I wanted. I’m teary because it was a big step, but it feels right. This way I can come to India and properly settle in. I haven’t stayed in one place for years.”

  “You can get to know this part of yourself before India knows who you are,” he teased.

  “Exactly. Has Jalil made any progress?”

  “My sister, the frighteningly brilliant strategist, suggested Jalil send out letters to people who worked on Lakshmi’s films, claiming he wants to make a biopic and request interviews. It’s been a slow process tracking them down. A lot have retired or moved on to other things, but as word gets out in that community, Jalil expects more people will come forward.”

  “That’s actually a great idea even if he didn’t have an ulterior motive. I would love to watch something like that. Could her estate fund it?”

  “I’ll call him tomorrow and mention it.”

  “Okay—Oh. I’m having lunch with an old friend, and I’ve just arrived at the restaurant.” The car pulled up to the curb. “He wants me to—”

  “Tell me you’re making my dreams come true.” The silver-haired man who had been formulating exclusive skin care products for four decades opened her door.

  “I’ll text you later,” she hurried to say to Vijay and ended her call.

  She let Yosef help her from the car and kiss both her cheeks. He had hired her for her first magazine ad five years ago, and she wanted to tell him herself. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to break your heart. I’m going on hiatus from modeling. If you want me to pay for lunch, I completely understand.”

  * * *

  Six days later, Oriel was exhausted. She had one more shoot tomorrow before she could finalize things with Payton and leave New York. She was in the middle of modeling skiwear, trying not to sweat makeup onto the furred hood, when one of the hovering assistants said, “There’s an urgent call for Ms. Cuvier.”

  Her mind immediately went to her parents. Oriel unwound from awkwardly grasping a pair of skis while standing in fake snow and took the phone.

  “Bonjour?”

  “It’s me,” Vijay said in a hard, flat tone. “Payton is on his way with someone from TecSec. Don’t leave until they get there. The news is out that Lakshmi was pregnant when she left for Europe.”

  “What? How?”

  “A cameraman from one of Bakshi’s film crews received Jalil’s letter about a biopic. He decided to cash in and sold the story that she was pregnant in My Heart Sings for You. It was her last film before she went to Europe, and it came out when she got back. He said she was sick on set, and everyone suspected. He assumed Bakshi was the father.”

  They had already debunked that. Oriel’s DNA test had said she had forty percent Scandinavian heritage. “Has Gouresh made a statement?”

  “No one can find him, but Kiran has set up a bunch of alerts, and your photo is already turning up in subthreads remarking on the resemblance.”

  “No.” She looked for somewhere to sit and sank onto a closed trunk that held equipment. “How is Jalil?”

  “Worried about them finding you before we have a chance to put protections around you. So am I. Payton said he can get you out of your last shoot if you want to. I’d like you here where I can see to your fences and firewalls myself. The alternative is the chateau, but...”

  “Maman is starting a new tour. I’d rather be with you.”

  “Good. I’ll start making your travel arrangements. Watch for a text.”

  She ended the call and handed the phone to the assistant.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Not really,” she said in a daze. “Let’s get what we can before I have to leave.”

  * * *

  Vijay’s new partner and the founder of TecSec, Roman Killian, arrived with Payton. Payton finalized the cancellation of her last contracts, and Killian escorted Oriel to her mother’s apartment, where she hurriedly packed. Then he brought her to the TecSec jet. His wife, Melodie, and their two children were already aboard.

  Melodie was excellent company, and the toddlers provided a lovely distraction on the flight to Paris, where the family disembarked. Each of the children gave her a big hug that jump-started all of Oriel’s maternal instincts.

  From there, she traveled with only a security detail and slept most of the way to Mumbai. By the time she was asked to sit up because the plane was descending, she had almost forgotten why she’d left New York in such a scampering hurry. She hadn’t found much online about Lakshmi’s possible pregnancy except a few sensationalized posts on gossip sites.

  Oriel had been reading up on her biological mother every spare moment, absorbing the details of Lakshmi’s life with greedy fascination, and had watched a few films with subtitles. Everything reinforced that Lakshmi had been very popular and treasured as well as a talented singer and performer, but she seemed mostly a South Asian phenomenon, not known well internationally.

  Watching her was a surreal experience. She seemed familiar, yet everything about her was completely different from the life Oriel had lived or the person she had believed herself to be.

  Now Oriel was landing in a country that, under different circumstances, would have been her nation of birth. Her identity. She was eager to discover if it felt like home, but a greater uncertainty confronted her.

  It was hitting her that she had completely overturned her life to be with a man who was still very much a stranger. As an only child, and one who had begun traveling for her career when she’d still been in school, she had a very independent spirit. It would be one thing to reshape her future around the love of her life. It was quite another to do it for passion. What if she’d made a horrible mistake?

  Landing under low, soggy clouds that looked cold and unwelcoming did not reassure her. Where was the undo button for life? She had a sudden urge to backspace all the way to Milan and make different choices.

  Not true, she assured the baby, patting where apprehensive butterflies were taking flight in her belly. She peeked out the window and saw Vijay on the tarmac below, stepping from an SUV with a practiced pop of a wide black umbrella.

  The air hostess pressed a button to lower the hatch that formed the stairs, and a dozen impressions hit her at once.

  The temperature wasn’t cold, merely rain-fresh cool. A gust brought in the fragrance of washed tarmac and wet earth. The patter of the rain was steady and musical, the humidity so tangible, her deep inhale rehydrated her, filling her with buoyant excitement.

  And here was Vijay, taking the stairs in an easy stride, arriving in the opening with the umbrella so he provided a shelter to step into. Masculine scents radiated off him with the warmth of his body—spice and coffee and the damp cotton of his shirt as she stepped out of the plane.

  She paused there, drinking in everything about this moment so she could remember it forever. She memorized the lights in the puddles and the green in the distance and the way her husband looked down at her, face filled with intriguing angles.

  He took her breath away when he looked at her in that hooded way, h
olding his sensual mouth so tense and serious. His dark lashes flickered as he stole a very swift, proprietary glance to her toes and back, revealing nothing about his thoughts.

  Even so, as she stood close to him, spatters of rain pelting them with the changeable wind, she felt as though she had arrived home—not because this country was in her blood, but because he was.

  She had missed him. This was the place she had to be. It was a profound realization and yet one more way she was losing a piece of herself to the unknown.

  If he had kissed her then, she would have laughed with joy, but a gust caught the umbrella and tipped it, sending a cold drizzle down her bare arm, startling her.

  “Monsoon,” he said. “Welcome to India.”

  She was so wrapped up in wanting him to show some sort of affection, she briefly thought the word was an endearment. As she realized her mistake, she ducked her head and wiped the trickle from her arm, embarrassed that she was behaving like a pubescent child wishing for a paper valentine.

  The truth was, she wanted a lot more. She was falling in love with him, she realized with a catch of alarm.

  It was too soon, too spontaneous, too new. It made her terrifyingly vulnerable when she had already sacrificed everything, but her heart had opened itself to him of its own accord. She had quit her old life because she wanted to be here, with him.

  And his reception to all of that seemed very lukewarm.

  Why don’t you want me? Why don’t you love me?

  She tried not to be crestfallen, but she was.

  “You are a true Mumbaikar if you’re willing to stand in the rain instead of running to where it’s dry.” He nodded an invitation for her to move ahead of him down the narrow steps.

  She dredged up an uncertain smile to cover her disappointment. “I am ruining an expensive pair of shoes.”

  Rain hit her ankles beneath the cuffs of her snapping wide-legged pants as she descended. Her sleeveless, light-knit mock turtleneck left her arms bare to the spits and spats that whipped off the breeze and stung her skin.