Page 46 of One Hellish Desire

I take a quick shower and head to Vikram’s room. Hariya mentioned he’s been in there for a long time. The Holi party is over, and the guests have left Ratna Mahal. I want to see Daadi too, but I need to give this man a piece of my mind first. I knock on the door, but it’s ajar, so I let myself in. He’s nowhere in sight, but I hear movement inside the bathroom.

“Vikram, come out. I need to talk.”

He doesn’t respond. I pace in his room, my patience wearing thin. I bang on the bathroom door again.

“You can’t hide from me. Just come out and face this.”

“I’m not hiding, just taking a shower, Cub,” he shouts from inside. “If you don’t believe me, the door’s unlocked. You can come in and check yourself.”

I step back, contemplating his challenge. Is he that confident I wouldn’t check that he left the door unlocked? Maybe he really is showering, but my patience is running out. I knock again, slower this time.

“Vikram, just come out or else...”

I hear the overhead shower running. He’s probably telling the truth. My irritation peaks when his phone rings loudly on his bed. Obviously, he can’t answer it, so I pick it up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello,” I snap, unable to control my tone. I don’t want to be rude to whoever’s calling, but my frustration with Prince Pompous is spilling over.

“Where is Vikram?” a woman’s voice demands.

“He’s taking a shower; I’ll ask him to call you back.”

I’m about to hang up when she interjects.

“Then what the hell are you doing there while my son is showering?”

Son? I glance at the caller ID and see “Mom” displayed. Damn! It’s Meera Singh Grover, Vikram’s mother. We haven’t met much, but I know she’s fiercely possessive of her husband and son.

“Who am I talking to?” she shouts.

I now understand where Vikram gets his attitude.

“I’m Maahi. Sorry, I didn’t check the caller ID before answering.”

“You shouldn’t have touched my son’s phone.”

Now I’m annoyed.

“The ringtone was annoying. Otherwise, I have no interest in Vikram or his belongings.”

I sound rude, but I can’t help it.

“You are Maahi? As in the orphan Maahi?

My stomach clenches. Did she just call me an orphan? I am, but she didn’t need to tag me with that label. I don’t respond to her insult. She can’t affect me. Before I can process another reply, Vikram snatches the phone from my hand. He’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair, face, and chest.

“Mom, I’ll call you later,” he says keeping his gaze locked on me.

I should turn away, maybe even leave, because he’s almost naked, and it bothers me. But I’m rooted to the spot.

“I’ll call you back, I promise. Bye,” he promises his mother before disconnecting and tossing the phone on the bed.

“You can’t do that. Don’t answer my calls. Ever,” he warns.

“Your mother warned me the same. I’ll keep that in mind.”

His face softens, probably seeing the guilt in my eyes for taking his call. But when his gaze lingers on the color still staining my hair parting, my anger reignites.

“Do you know what you did out there?” I mutter.

---