by Swati MH
Surrender to the Stars
Fated Love Book Two
Swati M.H.
SMH Publishing
Copyright © 2021 by Swati M.H.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Cover: Cover Me Darling
Editing: Silvia’s Reading Corner
Publicity: Give Me Books PR
Author’s Note
Content warning: This book is intended for a mature audience. It deals with themes related to fertility and conception.
To Kar, the calm to my storm.
“You don't find love, it finds you. It's got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what's written in the stars.”
Anaïs Nin
Contents
Prologue
1. Cassie
Present Day
2. Vik
3. Cassie
4. Cassie
5. Vik
6. Cassie
7. Cassie
8. Vik
9. Cassie
10. Vik
11. Cassie
12. Cassie
13. Vik
14. Cassie
15. Vik
16. Cassie
17. Cassie
18. Cassie
19. Vik
20. Cassie
21. Cassie
Six Years Ago
22. Cassie
Six Years Ago
23. Vik
24. Cassie
25. Vik
26. Cassie
27. Cassie
28. Vik
29. Cassie
30. Vik
31. Cassie
Epilogue
Also by Swati M.H.
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Never miss a thing!
Prologue
Cassie - One Year Ago
As Venus enters Leo, your life may start to feel like a romantic comedy this week, Taurus, when a chance encounter with a sexy stranger leads to major fireworks.
“May I have this dance?” His low, raspy voice in my ear and his mouth barely touching a strand of my hair sends a shiver down my spine before I turn to face him.
I have to focus on steadying myself in my heels as I take in his chiseled features, rock-solid towering frame, and lush dark hair. He’s the poster child for tall, dark, and handsome, and he knows it.
Hell if I’ll ever admit it out loud, though.
His gaze has followed me all night--from when I mingled with other wedding guests to when I gave a toast to my best friend and her new husband--like he’s assessing me for a threat. His eyes forage below surface-level, trying to reach the depths of my soul.
But I know better than to be entrapped like an inconsequential squirrel by a fickle, hungry hunter--burning gazes be damned. I hear Misha’s voice behind me. “Be careful, Vik. I’m watching you.”
He chuckles softly. “Relax, little cousin, I’m asking her for a dance, not a night in my bed.” His fingertips gently glide along my arms, making every hair stand on end, before encircling my waist. He lowers his head again, ensuring that I’m the only one who can hear his voice. “Not yet, at least.”
This guy . . ..
I scoff and reluctantly place my hands on his shoulders. We sway naturally to the slow song Avni asked the DJ to play. “I’m pretty sure I made it clear to you at the henna party last night that I’m not easily seduced by flashy suits and perfect smiles.”
“Glad you noticed,” he says, displaying that gorgeous crooked smile as I chide myself for inflating his already swollen ego. “I didn’t take you as one to be easily seduced, but I don’t mind working hard if that’s your thing.”
I look up at him, hovering a foot above me, disbelief clear on my face. “Are you serious right now? Do those lines actually work on women?”
Vik’s hands slide a touch lower, fluttering above my panty line, and I narrow my eyes at him. His smirk says he knows exactly what he’s doing while his eyes dare me to move his hands. But I can’t . . . or maybe I won’t. My body begs me to listen to the smoke alarms going off in my head.
Damn it! It’s not fair that he looks like a Calvin Klein model and acts like an over-confident ogre.
“You’re absolutely stunning in Indian clothing. I think you might be stealing attention away from Avni.”
My best friend is hardly someone anyone could steal attention from. She’s flat-out gorgeous on a normal day, but on her wedding day, she’s ravishing. I watch her dance with Clark, her bejeweled, red, Indian dress swaying with her, completely consumed by him as if they’re alone in a crowd of two hundred.
It was her dream to have this wedding at the famous Lodhi Gardens in New Delhi and since I haven’t been anywhere outside of California, I was more than willing to fly here with her. “I don’t think she cares for anyone’s attention but Clark’s.”
Vik follows my gaze, watching his cousin wrapped in the arms of the man she loves, and nods. “Agreed. And what about you?” His milk chocolate eyes slide back to mine.
“What about me?”
“Whose attention do you care for?”
Not yours.
“No one here.”
Vik tightens his hold around me, leaving little room between us, and my arms inadvertently encircle his neck. “Want to know whose attention I’d like?”
“Someone who gives it freely to anyone willing?”
He laughs heartily. “You’re a little firecracker, you know that?”
“Luckily for you, I haven’t been ignited yet.”
His voice lowers again. “Oh, I think you have. And you’ve managed to leave sparks.”
Even if I tried--and I am trying--I wouldn’t be able to unlock my gaze from his. He licks his lips as his eyes slowly wander to my mouth, making my body temperature climb even higher.
Why won’t this song end already?
Avni’s concerned expression jolts me out of my hypnotic state. She and Misha warned me about their cousin last night, referring to him with choice words such as man-whore. I reassured them that while he came in the package of Adonis, I recognized him for exactly who he was--a swindler. Someone who could charm women out of their panties and leave them with only scraps of what used to be their heart.
Besides, I didn’t date surgeons, and I definitely didn’t date players. Now this player-surgeon-hybrid beast? I’ll be staying as far from him as he can throw me, and I don’t have a shred of doubt that he could throw me far.
I shake my head conspiratorially at her, assuaging her concern, and beg the heavens to make this song end. It has got to end soon because this man’s intoxicating cologne is wreaking havoc in my brain and threatening to break my will. Why isn’t this cologne considered contraband? What if someone harms themselves whilst breathing in its hazardous fumes? It’s a public safety concern!
“So, I hear you’re a NICU nurse at a hospital in San Diego,” Vik says, his fingertips setting my skin alight.
“Ah, so you don’t have selective hearing.” I’m sure he can see my lips twitch, begging to smile.
“Not when it comes to you, sweetheart.” His eyes heat up without warning and my traitorous body reacts conversely to the signals from my brain--waking up, warming up, tighteni
ng up.
His breath ghosts over my skin as he whispers, “When it comes to you, I hear everything--every exhaled breath and every pounding heartbeat. Like right now, I can hear the way your mind is working overtime to figure out how to get out of my arms and back to the safety of your friends. I can hear you trying, and failing, to convince yourself that there’s no chemistry here.”
Thankfully, the song ends--along with his words--and I’m able to resume breathing and normal brain function. I step away from him and his enticing smell. “I think you need to recheck your diagnosis, doctor. I haven’t failed to convince myself of any so-called chemistry. I know there is no chemistry here. In fact, in the next few seconds, you’ll be watching me successfully walk away from you to enjoy the rest of my night.”
Zing!
And with that, I’m off to find my friends amongst the crowd filling up the dance floor, not waiting for Vik’s response. I can’t move quick enough from his unsettling gaze, his statuesque frame, and his heady smell. One moment longer and I would have reached up and ran my hand through his thick black hair or grazed my thumb along the scruff on his jaw.
One moment longer and I might have licked him to stake my claim.
I give total credit to the drama classes I took during high school for my flawless performance tonight. If he could hear what was actually going through my head, we wouldn’t be anywhere near the dance floor . . . we’d be finding our rhythm on a bed somewhere.
This is my last night in New Delhi, celebrating my best friend’s big day. There is no way a devil adorning angel wings is going to take that from me, no matter how persuasive his velveteen voice might be. Tomorrow I’ll fly back home to San Diego while he goes back to New York.
Where he belongs.
Far, far away.
Cassie
Present Day
The moon in Taurus forms a trine with Jupiter and Venus this week, encouraging you to consider putting yourself out there when it comes to your love life. Take charge, Taurus! A potential companion awaits in the shadows, but the question is, will you fight fate as usual?
“Ooh, what about him? He’s cute. His face says he’s a gentleman, but his eyes suggest he’s less than one in bed.” Lynn stretches her neck to look at the picture on my phone. “Swipe right on him, girl.”
We’re on our second twenty-minute break in the nurses’ lounge after a crazy ten-hour shift, stuffing our faces with gummy worms and Diet Coke. I lean back in my chair to loosen the tension in my back from being on my feet all day. “I don’t know. It says here he’s an Aries. I’ve never really hit it off with Aries men. They’re just so damn angry and competitive.”
“Angry and competitive sounds really good if you put the words ‘in bed’ after them.” Lynn wiggles her eyebrows. “It also says here that he’s a banker, which means he’s got mon-ay.” My friend rubs her thumb and first two fingers together signifying money.
I groan, swiping left on the guy. “Bankers and surgeons are two professions I stay away from when it comes to dating. They’re pompous, promiscuous, and generally rely heavily on their wealth as opposed to their personality.”
Lynn shakes her head and bites another gummy worm. “I really don’t know why you’ve been single for the past seven years. It’s not like you’re that picky or anything.”
I shove her shoulder with mine, turning my attention to the next guy on my screen. “Shut up. I’m not that picky, and you know it. I just want to make sure we’re compatible from the get-go.”
It’s been a couple of years, but I’ve been on this astrology kick. I love learning more about my sun sign, Taurus, and what makes me tick through the analysis of my birthday. For example, being an earth sign, I know that I’m an easy-going, loyal companion. While I’m open to casually dating, I tend to want to establish a relationship after a few dates. I’m introverted, bookish, and genuine, which are all things I’ve noticed about myself, but seeing it written out has validated it for me. I even subscribe to a weekly astrological horoscope email that prepares me for the week.
I don’t subscribe to the daily mail . . . that would be ludicrous.
Lynn shrugs and goes back to looking at her phone. She’s had a lot of luck finding dates on this app, and after she threatened to steal my phone, I finally downloaded it myself. I have yet to swipe right on anyone, though.
But that doesn’t mean I’m picky. It just means I’m careful, assessing, and maybe a little guarded.
Fine! Call it picky if you want, but I’m not apologizing for it.
It’s been a few years since my last relationship--seven to be exact--and while I’ve gone on dates here and there, I just haven’t found anyone compelling enough. And at twenty-seven, I don’t want to take chances going out of my comfort zone. I’m not in search of a one-night fling--that was never my sort of thing--I’m looking for someone stable, committed, and serious. Someone like me.
The next guy seems interesting enough. He likes meditation, Sci-Fi movies, and cooking. He has a square jaw and a perfect nose centered between bright blue eyes. I can’t tell if his hair is light or dark brown from this picture, but he’s styled it in a messy way that really suits him. He’s a restaurant owner too, which is a more unique career choice than many of the balding surf instructors I’ve seen on here. I bite the inside of my lip and contemplate whether I should swipe right or not. “Well, he’s attractive.”
Lynn leans over and examines the guy on my screen. “Major?” Her eyebrows rise up. “His name is Major?” She searches my eyes with a blank face. “So, let me get this straight . . . you’ll judge someone based on their sun sign but not on their first name? Seriously, Cass?”
She has a point. “Well, other than his name, he might be a good match. And, he’s a Scorpio. Tauruses always have good chemistry with water signs like Scorpios. Plus, my weekly horoscope said I’d meet a dark, gorgeous stranger. It’s only Tuesday, but maybe this Major guy is him!”
Lynn rolls her eyes. “Yup, he seems like a real catch. You guys can meditate and nap together.”
I shove her shoulder again and she laughs. After bravely swiping right on his picture, I text my best friend Avni. I have missed hanging out with her after work or surfing at the beach ever since she moved to San Francisco. She’s been married to Clark for a year, and I love when they come into town to visit, but I miss the days when our meetings weren’t so scheduled and rushed.
So, I finally swiped right.
I’m just throwing away the gummy worms wrapper and soda can when I feel my phone vibrate in my scrubs. Yay! Send me a screenshot. What does he look like?
Smiling to myself, I quickly grab a screenshot of Major and send it to her. He’s a Scorpio, too!
Oh, he is cute! Now what? Do you have to wait until he swipes right, too?
Yup. I’ll tell you if anything progresses.
A moment later, Avni’s text buzzes again. Okay. Hey, are you at work?
Yeah. I’ll be off in two more hours. What’s up?
So, you know how I told you that my cousin Vik moved to San Diego a few months ago for a fellowship at a naval hospital?
She’s worrying me. Yeah…
Well, I think he has to do rotations or something, and he’s now working at the same hospital you do.
I stare at her text for a good thirty seconds. Did I just lose brain to body functionality? My mind is both blank and buzzing, and I can’t seem to grasp my thoughts. He’s at the same hospital. Like . . . he’s here now? I’m already running late for the nurses’ station, so I type a quick reply and put the phone back in my locker. Great. Well, it’s not like he’s a NICU doctor, so at least the chances of running into him are slim to none.
Let’s hope for none.
Am I convincing her or myself? Remembering that Vik is an orthopedic surgeon, I let out a sigh of relief. There would be no reason for our paths to cross in this enormous hospital since he doesn’t work with premature babies.
A few minutes later, I’m at the nurses’ statio
n reading the notes on a new patient. The mom just delivered the baby a few hours ago--who was born preterm at twenty-eight weeks--and is resting in her room. After making sure I have all the necessary information on baby Braxton, I scrub my hands and walk over to the nursery to check on him.
Braxton’s tiny, of course, and is hooked up to a ventilator that’s helping him breathe since his lungs aren’t fully formed yet. His lids are closed and aside from the soft hum of the machine connected to him, he appears to be at peace inside his incubator. Just seeing his tiny body makes my heart clench. Even though I’m surrounded by sick babies, I still feel the heaviness in my chest when I’m holding their tiny bodies in my hands.
That heaviness never really goes away, either. But that’s my own burden to bear.
As I perform the routine check on him--examining his abdomen, heart, and making sure his vitals are normal--I notice that he’s holding his arm close to his chest. When I try to move it, Braxton visibly winces. Upon further examination, I also see a small bump on his collarbone. After noting my observations down on his rounding sheets as “possible flail limb,” I make a note for his doctor to submit an X-ray request.