Page 94 of One Hellish Desire

“No, you didn’t, but—”

“That’s it then. I think you got your reply, Cub,” he interrupts. “Is there anything else you wish to speak to your husband besides Devki Estate?”

Now he’s pissing me off.

“Nope,” I snap. “If you don’t want to speak about Devki Estate matters to me, I don’t want to speak to you either.”

“Perfect,” he sighs. “Saves my time. Got to go, Cub. Bye.”

And that’s it. The call disconnects. I stare blankly at my cellphone before dropping it back on the desk. I hadn’t expected Vikram to be so cold. He’s sending people to Devki Estate tomorrow, and I don’t know why, but that’s fine. I’ll handle it myself. If he thinks I’ll never find out what he’s plotting behind my back, he’s wrong. I’m the one who saved this estate and worked for its benefit all these years. I won’t let it all go to waste.

I’m about to make a few calls when a message beeps on my phone. It’s from Shyam Trivedi, and its contents are sure to keep me intrigued.

VIKRAM

Next Day

I admit I was rude to Maahi yesterday. She called to discuss my plans for Devki Estate, and instead of reassuring her, I told her to mind her own business. I lean back in my office chair, puzzled by my own thoughts. Should I apologize? Wait! Me, apologize? I’ve never apologized to anyone—not teachers, professors, business associates, or even my parents. Sure, I’ve made mistakes, but I usually cover them up. So why on earth do I feel like apologizing to my wife?

I shake off the thought and pick up my phone to video call Maahi. After a few rings, the call connects, but it’s not Maahi who answers. It’s Shyam Trivedi.

“Hello, Vikram Singh Grover,” he grins, and my blood boils.

“Where is Maahi?” I demand, scanning the café in the background. Why is Shyam with Maahi’s phone in a café?

“Maahi is in the washroom. She’ll be back soon. Why don’t you talk to me? I can convey your message.”

“Where the hell is my wife?” I stand up, ready to fly back to India and break his jaw if he’s been flirting with her.

“Vikram?” Maahi’s voice cuts through, and she snatches the phone from Shyam. “Why did you video call?”

“What are you doing with your ex-fiancé?” I glare at her, but she remains cool.

“You’re forgetting he’s my friend too.”

“Was,” I correct.

“Well, yes. He was. If that makes you happy,” she shrugs.

I take a moment to observe her. Even though she is away from me, in India, she hasn’t stopped dressing like a newlywed bride. She’s wearing sindoor, a mangalsutra, and a dark maroon salwar, probably one of her creations. My fingers curl around the edge of my desk, wishing I could touch her. It’s been only two weeks since our marriage, yet I can’t get enough of her.

“Go back home,” I command.

“I will go after I finish talking to Shyam.”

“Maahi,” I control my anger. “I said go back home.”

“Stop acting like a dominant husband. I know why I’m here, and I’m not conspiring against you. So, stop dictating me what to do. I’ll call you later. Bye.”

She disconnects the call, bruising my ego once again.

MAAHI

I disconnect the call and focus on Shyam.

“Thanks for coming,” Shyam smiles, but I don’t return it. His messages last week were troubling, and I’m here to end this.

“What do you know about the Devki Estate project?” I cut to the chase.

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