Married for One Reason Only

by Dani Collins

  “Jalil has arranged a press conference at a hotel near here,” Vijay said as they settled in the SUV. “You’re up for it?”

  No. She wanted to go somewhere private to reevaluate all her life choices, but she didn’t think she had the option to refuse.

  “Of course.” She had already approved the press release and memorized the statement she would make. “I warned my parents what was happening, but do you really think people will care that much? I mean, beyond reporters.”

  He looked at her as if she was very naive. “I do. Yes.”

  He didn’t say anything else, but it wasn’t far to the hotel. Their car was met in the parking garage by four burly, expressionless men. Four. Plus two people wearing hotel security badges.

  They were shown through a private corridor and past an open door to a kitchen, where a curious silence fell as they walked by. An excited babble rose in their wake.

  She looked to Vijay and noted that his whole demeanor was on alert.

  “Kiran wanted to be here, but I asked her to stay at the office so I can give my full attention to you and your safety.”

  She began to realize he was actually working, wearing the role of protector in the most basic way. It was sweet, but she grew intimidated as they approached what sounded like a thousand voices beyond a wall. She unconsciously tightened her hand on the crook of his elbow.

  As they reached a pair of doors where a handful of people were waiting, one looked up and made a noise of surprise.

  Jalil turned and did a double take. He covered his mouth, and his dark eyes filled with tears. “Beti,” he breathed as he held out his hand to her. “You look just like her.”

  “Please don’t make me cry.” She caught his hand in both of hers. “Not yet.”

  They both laughed emotively, and he squeezed her hand so hard her rings dug into her fingers, but the pain helped her keep hold of her composure.

  Someone offered to touch up her makeup while Jalil went into the room. The babble of voices nearly knocked her over, but they abruptly went silent as he was introduced.

  Jalil began to speak in Hindi.

  “He’s explaining that he had suspicions Lakshmi had a child,” Vijay translated for her. “And that she gave up the baby to protect her career, that she feared she and her baby wouldn’t be accepted if she kept it.”

  “I can only speak English or French,” Oriel whispered in belated panic.

  “English is fine. When Jalil called this, he said most of it would be conducted in English. Now he’s saying he’s confident Bakshi was not the father.”

  “Has Bakshi been found?”

  “No, he’s still in hiding.” He cocked his head. “He says he has confirmed that Lakshmi had a daughter because he has found her. You’re up.”

  Oriel’s knees wanted to give out. She swallowed the worst stage fright of her life. It’s just a runway.

  Walking for an audience had never bothered her beyond a few twinges of nerves, but her entire body became encased in ice. Her limbs felt disjointed as she allowed Vijay to escort her into the ballroom.

  A collective gasp rippled over the hundred or so assembled reporters. Cameras flashed in a violent strobe. A babble of incomprehensible questions assaulted her ears.

  She wore a resemblance, she told herself, in the same way she often wore an haute couture gown. That was what people were looking at, not her.

  Her training came to her rescue, and she managed an aloof confidence as she joined Jalil at the podium and flashed her warmest smile.

  “Good afternoon,” she said as Vijay’s men stepped in front of the microphone.

  The room fell silent again.

  “If you were surprised to learn that Lakshmi Dalal gave birth to me, you know exactly how I feel.”

  It was exactly the right note of humor and humanity to win them over. The flashes continued, but she felt the shift in the room. The acceptance.

  She read her statement and took a few questions. Then Jalil’s people ended the conference by providing contact information for further questions. As she walked out, someone was asking the reporters to please respect their privacy.

  Jalil came with them in their car so they could have a few more minutes to chat. He knew she had been traveling for nearly a full day and needed time to take all of this in, so they made a date to have dinner with him and Kiran in a few days’ time.

  As she and Vijay were dropped off, Jalil said he would continue on to “make a report to Kiran.”

  “Make a report,” Vijay scoffed as they entered the elevator with the doorman who brought her luggage.

  “Does it still bother you that they’re involved?” she asked.

  “No,” he allowed. “Jalil is insisting they take their time because he worries about the age difference.”

  “So did you,” she reminded him.

  “True, but I’ve since seen that their personalities are well-suited. If they wished to marry, I would support their decision.”

  He was speaking very objectively, reminding her of the night he’d asked her what her expectations of marriage were. Passion wasn’t a deal-breaker, he had said, but she had hoped it was still alive between them. So far, desire seemed the furthest thing from motivating his urgency in bringing her here.

  Doubts were digging claws ever deeper into her as he opened the door into a penthouse and thanked the doorman, instructing him to leave the luggage in the entranceway.

  “Oh. Wow.”

  Vijay had told her over their daily video chats that he had found an apartment they could live in right away, with the option to buy. From the outside, the building had looked unremarkable, but this was a tasteful, modern oasis with endless views of the sea.

  “It was renovated last year by one of our clients. It was actually two units and he combined them.” Vijay pointed at the loft to indicate it had two floors. “I made him an offer on condition you approve.”

  If she hadn’t been feeling as though there was an invisible wall between them, she would have thrown her arms around him and squealed with delight.

  The decor was understated, the furniture chic but comfortable. Sliding walls of glass were the only separation between indoors and the wide terrace that overlooked the Arabian sea. The dining, living and kitchen area were all one airy space with plenty of room for Kiran’s wheelchair if she decided to come live with them.

  Oriel and Vijay had discussed it, and Oriel had no problem with sharing their home with Vijay’s sister. She had often roomed with complete strangers at different times and always made it work. Once the baby came, she would probably be very glad for an extra pair of hands. Besides, judging from the way things were going with Jalil, Kiran wouldn’t be with them for long.

  For now, Kiran had chosen to stay in the lower level of a duplex that she and Vijay had called home for several years. The neighbors all treated her like family, and the home itself was fitted for her chair. Plus, Kiran said she wanted to give the newlyweds their privacy.

  For what? Oriel had to wonder uneasily.

  There was an elevator to the upper floor, but they walked up the floating staircase to a loft with a small sitting area beneath a skylight. They passed two spare bedrooms and a home gym before entering a master suite fronted by a wall of glass. It opened onto a private terrace that had a small landscaped garden as well as another stunning view of the sea.

  Oriel moved to the part of the rail that was protected by an overhang and instantly imagined walking out here every single morning, drinking coffee, tasting the day.

  “You’re not saying anything.” He was still wearing that watchfulness. She was beginning to think it had less to do with his security persona and more to do with whatever was going on in his own head. But what was that?

  “It’s incredible,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You know it is.”

  “The sec
urity system is first class,” he said dryly as he joined her at the rail. “The location is excellent. One of the best maternity hospitals in the city is nearby.”

  “That’s good,” she murmured.

  They both stood there watching the rain.

  “Oriel—”

  “Do you want me here?” she asked over him.

  “What?” He angled to look down his nose at her. “Of course.” His voice was brisk, though, and his gaze went out to the gray horizon, where low clouds hung against chopping waves. “Why do you ask?” His demeanor was as cool and colorless as the rain.

  She felt callow admitting it. Defenseless because she couldn’t hide the fact she was hurt. “You didn’t...kiss me when I arrived.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t laugh at her. She might have gone straight back to the airport if he had. Even so, as he looked at her with vague bewilderment, a scorched self-consciousness rose behind her breastbone.

  “We’re not like Europe. Public affection isn’t customary here.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t even thought of the cultural differences she would face with this move. She might look like she had been born here, but she was French. Being demonstrative in public was very natural to her. “I have a lot to learn.”

  “We’re a nation of people who live in multigenerational homes, so it’s kept behind closed doors out of respect for our elders. I honestly don’t recall ever seeing my parents kiss, not because their marriage was arranged. It just wasn’t done.”

  “Oh.” She started to relax, but realized, “You still haven’t, though.” Fresh shyness struck, and her cheeks stung with a painful blush. “Kissed me, I mean.”

  “I know.” His voice had returned to being clipped. He moved back to the door into the bedroom.

  Her heart lurched at the way he was putting that distance between them.

  He lightly tapped his loose fist on the frame. “I hate myself for asking, but I have to.” He pinned her with his steady gaze. “Who was he?”

  She was taken aback. “Who?”

  “The man whose dreams you were making come true.”

  She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know—”

  “Lunch. You left Payton’s office and you were going to meet an old friend for lunch.”

  “Yosef!” she recalled, then stood tall with instant outrage. “He’s nearly seventy, Vijay. He gave me my first magazine shoot, and yes, I wore a negligee back then, but he never once made me feel cheap about it. Unlike you. Do you really think I was stepping out on you days after we married? Mon Dieu, when you said you didn’t trust easily, you should have explained you meant there was none at all.”

  She tried to brush past him into the bedroom. He put out a hand to stop her, and she thrust his arm away. She glared at him, daring him to touch her again.

  “I don’t want to be like this,” he said through his teeth.

  “Then don’t,” she threw back at him and stalked toward the bed. “Should I feel the sheets?” She patted the blankets. “See if they’re still warm from whoever you’ve been with?”

  His mouth tightened. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. There was no one between meeting you in Milan and finding you in Cannes, either,” he clarified.

  “Same.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Do you believe me?” Let him try and say he didn’t.

  “Damn it, Oriel, I had someone cheat on me. I know it’s weak of me to be suspicious, but I can’t stand the idea that I might not be seeing what’s right under my nose.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw before dropping his hands onto his hips. He stared out the open doors as though seeing a past he couldn’t change.

  She was still angry, but an even more insidious sense of threat crept into her.

  “Who? How long were you together?”

  “Her name is Wisa. We met at university and wanted to finish our degrees before we married.”

  “So you were...” She had assumed he would have a romantic history, but, “You were engaged?” She covered the sick knot that arrived in her middle.

  “Yes. The wedding was days away when we called it off. She was sleeping with my best friend. I found out as the rest of my life fell apart over my father’s crimes. The worst part is—”

  That wasn’t the worst part? She dragged her gaze up to his shuttered expression.

  “I realized later that she had likely been steered toward me in an attempt to have influence over me when I took control of my father’s business.”

  “Oh.” She touched the night table for balance. “That is awful.”

  “I don’t think she knew what was going on any more than I did.” He brushed a tired hand through the air. “On the surface, we seemed very compatible, nothing to raise my suspicion. I was the heir to a successful company, and she was the daughter of a local politician. I took my degree in business with a minor in electronical engineering. She thought I should plan to go into politics. That was our only bone of contention.”

  Oriel was still reeling. He’d been days away from a wedding. Relationships didn’t get that far unless hearts were involved.

  Vijay shrugged out of his jacket and threw it onto a chair in the corner.

  “After Kiran, Wisa was the first person I told about my father’s business dealings. Initially she supported my going to the police, but as our friends began to distance themselves, and she realized her uncle might be implicated, I caught her on a call with Madin. It was obvious they were involved. She said it was my fault, that I had ruined our future. Everyone’s future. That I drove her to Madin. We canceled the wedding, and she stuck me with the bills as a final slap in the face.”

  “Were you in love with her?” The question came out before she had fully braced herself for the answer.

  He met her gaze unflinchingly. “I was.”

  Her heart plummeted like a shot bird. “Are you still?”

  “No,” he dismissed firmly. “But I’m suspicious of that emotion, as you saw with my reaction to Jalil’s interest in Kiran.” He pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “I can’t help thinking it’s a smoke screen that people use to get whatever it is they really want.”

  That’s why he had asked her what she wanted from marriage. He didn’t intend to give her his heart. It was a surprising blow. He didn’t want to love her. Wouldn’t.

  She pressed a hand over the spot where she felt as though a knife was lodged in her chest. When she tried to speak, she had to gulp in air first.

  “Love can be used like that,” she acknowledged, hugging herself. “My first boyfriend was only using me to get close to my mother’s theater connections.” It still made her feel like the worst naive fool for not seeing it. “I fell for it because...” She worked to keep her mouth from turning down. “Because I wanted that big love. You know? The one.”

  He flinched and looked away guiltily.

  “Don’t. This isn’t about you and your limitations. This is something I want you to understand about me.” She hunched up her shoulders defensively. “I’ve always struggled with not feeling that I was loved enough. Otherwise she would have kept me. Right?” Tears rose in her eyes.

  “That’s not true.” His shoulders sank, and he came toward her, reaching to cup her elbows.

  She pressed her hand to his chest, holding him off.

  “Even if it was, you’ve seen how much my parents love me. They would do anything for me, which makes me feel even worse for having these fears. But it’s a normal thing a lot of adopted children struggle with. We worry that we were at fault somehow. It’s irrational and complex and confusing, but that’s how I realized I was susceptible to letting that feeling take over. Ever since that boyfriend treated me that way, I’ve been cautious about giving up too much of myself. I don’t like getting hurt, either.”

  He pulled his head back slightly as if her words had shaken him at some level. Then h
e gave a jerky nod of understanding. His hands tightened on her elbows.

  “I was only asking a question. It wasn’t an accusation. I don’t think you’re cheating on me. I just needed to hear from you that it was nothing.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Thank you.” His hands twitched as though he wanted to pull her close while still trying to give her space. “But Oriel, look at the lengths Jalil has gone to find you. He wouldn’t have done that if his sister hadn’t seemed tortured by losing you. You were wanted. You were loved.”

  Her composure crumpled, and she went into his arms.

  He held her secure, stroking her and saying, “I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you today. I want you all the damned time. Never doubt that.”

  She gave a small sob and looked up at him. “Even like this? All weepy and messy?”

  He framed her face in his warm, broad hands. “All the damned time,” he repeated.

  “Then kiss me.” She lifted on tiptoe and offered her tear-dampened lips.

  He closed his arms around her and opened his mouth across hers. As his flavor seeped into her senses, all her reservations eased.

  Then, as their kiss deepened, sharp need twisted inside her. Vijay slanted his mouth for a deeper seal, and between one breath and the next, their kiss yanked her into a maelstrom of want.

  For one moment, he let her feel the ferocity of his desire as he plundered her mouth, arms tight as he crushed her hips into the aroused shape behind his fly.

  He seemed to exert all his will as he made himself ease his hold and lift his head.

  “You should get some rest. You must be tired.”

  “What happened to ‘all the damned time’?”

  With an agile twist, he had them both on the bed.

  “Oh!”

  “Yes, oh.” He tucked her beneath him. “If you are too tired, now would be a good time to say so.”

  “I’m a little bit tired. You might have to do all the work.”

  “That, my beautiful wife, would be my pleasure.”