Page 18 of Forged By Fate

Sufi merely snorted in reply.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now. Both of you. So quit whining and blow your nose one last time. You need to get better in time for an exhibition at the National Gallery tomorrow night. I think we should go full glam this time. Black tie for Mr C and a Valentino gown for you with red lips,” he mused.

“Why is Aunty Tahira still here?” grumbled Aisha.

“She’s your Daadi’s guest, beta,” said Daya Bua gently.

“She’s never going to leave, is she?” asked Aisha in despair.

“Looks like it,” said Daya Bua, with a meaningful glance at Viren.

“What canIdo? I can hardly kick her out when Chachi invited her to stay,” he said defensively.

Hmph! He could if he wanted to. I gave the back of his head an extra strong glare as I walked past him on my way to the kettle. This house must have been built by giants, I groused silently as I stood on my tippy toes to reach for a mug.

I felt a sudden warmth behind me and Viren reached up quite easily to grab the mug for me.

“Here you go, shorty,” he said with a grin as he handed it to me.

I took him and slammed it on the counter before I threw in a masala chai teabag and filled it with hot water. Viren stared at the contents of the mug in horror.

“Why are you drinking that crap?”

“Because my throat hurts, and I have a cold,” I said crankily.

He rolled his eyes in response and snatched the mug out of my hand before he fished the teabag out and threw it in the bin. He poured the tea into the sink and pulled out another mug.

“What are you doing? I needed that tea,” I complained.

“That wasn’t tea. That was dirty dishwater. I’ll make you a proper cup of masala tea to soothe your throat,” he said, and I gaped at him in surprise.

“You?”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding offended.

“Viren Chaudhry, the billionaire and music mogul who has staff to cater to all his needs, is offering to make me a cup of tea. It’s enough to make anyone’s head spin,” I said snidely.

He rolled his eyes again and nudged me out of the way with his hip. I ignored the heat that sparked up my body from that playful little touch and stared at him suspiciously.

“Are you trying to poison me just because you want to avoid the divorce settlement?”

“For fuck’s sake, go and sit down before you make my head explode,” he snarled, and I smirked at him slowly.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Now it was his turn to sound suspicious.

“For what?”

“For the tea. And for saving my life earlier.”

His gaze dropped to my lips, and I could swear he bent his head a little. Daya Bua coughed loudly from the kitchen island, and we jumped apart with a start.

“I’ll go and sit down,” I said hastily, as Viren began grating some ginger into a saucepan.

What the hell was wrong with me, I wondered, not for the first time since I had married this man. How could I forget that Aisha was in the room? As for the whole bending his head for a kiss thing, it was just wishful thinking. I had made that mistake before, and look where it led us. But I hadn’t imaginedthe hungry look in his eyes as he stared at my lips, and for some reason, I couldn’t get it out of my head.

“What is Viren doing?” asked Daya Bua in surprise.

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