Page 1 of Forged By Fate

CHAPTER 1

SUNAINA

“Itold you we should have tied nimbu-mirchi to our suitcases,” growled Sufi, leaning over the edge of my balcony.

“What’s wrong now?” I asked wearily.

It seemed like the drama with this vacation would never end. All I wanted was a peaceful family holiday. Because it was probably the last one I would ever have with my family. In a few months, we were going to be splintered into before and after. Into factions. Even if we tried to keep it civil. And the hard-won peace of the past two and a half years was going to go up in smoke.

“Guess who just swooped in on her broomstick?” he asked as he threw himself angrily onto my bed.

“Viren’s aunt and uncle have already gatecrashed our holiday,” I said. “There’s nobody else left.”

“Tahira Mundhra,” he spat. “She just drove up in a taxi.”

My stomach plummeted at his words.

Wonderful! This was all that was required to take this holiday from dismal to fucking puke-worthy.

“Aisha is going to be hopping mad,” was all I said, though.

“So should you,” said Sufi, giving me a keen glance. “The way she clings to your husband is disrespectful, Sue.”

“My fake husband,” I reminded him.

“Well, she doesn’t know that. In her eyes, you and Mr C married for love. So there’s no excuse for the way she keeps throwing herself at him.”

“She does it because he allows her to get away with it,” I said bleakly as I slapped on some makeup.

“Well, sheisone of his oldest friends. And she’s related very closely to his aunt. He can’t throw her out on her ass without offending her family.”

“I know that. But I still don’t see why he has to allow her to grope him the way she does,” I grumbled.

“Sweetie, stop,” he screeched. “You’ll take your eye out with that mascara wand, and we want to scratchhereyes out. Not our own. You still haven’t learnt to do your own makeup even after three years.”

“I don’t like putting all this gunk on my face,” I said as he took the mascara wand from my hand and did his usual magic with it that made my eyelashes look thick, long and curved instead of spidery.

“Yes, I know your usual style is just lip balm and kohl, but you promised me you would make an effort tonight,” he replied, brushing some highlighter over my cheekbones and just under my brows.

“I don’t see the point,” I mumbled as he handed me a tube of Dior lip gloss in a shimmery red.

“Babe, you’re the wife of Viren Chaudhry - music mogul and billionaire. You need to look the part tonight.”

“Why? It’s just a night out with you,” I said, wondering why Sufi had insisted on playing my stylist for the night.

“Mr C is coming too,” he replied, and my heart skipped a beat.

Then I rolled my eyes at him. Viren had never joined us on our nights out. Not once in all these years.

“And pigs will fly,” I said dryly, spritzing myself with Chanel No. 5. If it had worked as a mood elevator for Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast At Tiffany’s, it had to work for me.

I breathed in the familiar scent and waited for it to work its magic, but tonight, even my favourite perfume was completely useless. All I could think of was that Sufi and I were going partying in London, while Tahira had just arrived to entertain my husband. Had he planned it that way?

I shook the thought off and stared at myself resolutely in the mirror. Viren had the right to entertain himself in any way he wanted. As did I. Our marriage was one of convenience. Fake. In name only. And more importantly, temporary.

We had both signed an ironclad contract that set an expiry date for our marriage. This farce was supposed to end six months after Viren formally adopted his niece Aisha as his daughter. We first had to prove that we had been married for two years before we could apply for adoption as a couple. After the divorce, the contract stated that I would relinquish all my parental rights to Aisha in return for a very hefty financial settlement, which was fair to Viren. But it was going to destroy me completely.

We had applied for adoption recently, and the social worker was going to visit us next month. Hence, the quick family vacation in London before our lives changed forever. We surprised Aisha with tickets to her favourite singer’s concert at Wembley yesterday, and Viren had hired a grand English manor in Knightsbridge for the rest of the week.

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