VIRAT
She sat on his ratty, ten-year-old couch and managed to make it look like a throne. Her blue and white dress spilled over the beige fabric, her long hair spilling down her back to trail over the back of the couch.
He itched to tangle his fingers in it, the silken weight of it one of his fondest tactile memories. Instead, he watched as Kabir rested a hand on the back of her neck and gently massaged her, an almost absentminded caress that neither of them seemed to notice. The top of Virat’s head was ready to explode from the sight of it.
Her phone pinged again and she glanced down at it, a bitingly cold smile stretching her lips.
“He’s getting antsy,” she commented, her red tipped fingers tapping at the phone as she composed a reply to Majid’s message. She flashed her screen at Kabir. “What do you think?”
Kabir’s eyes scanned the screen before he murmured, “You know best, babe.”
Babe. Virat’s stomach clenched at the husky endearment. Would it be the end of the world if he yanked the other man’s tongue out and choked him with it? Would his legion of fans keen with unending grief? Would Cara?
She looked up at him then, almost as if she’d heard his morbid thought. For a second, all they did was look at each other. And then, she held her phone out wordlessly. Virat leaned forward and took it, his fingers brushing hers. A microsecond of contact but he hoarded it, a magpie with his treasure.
His eyes clocked Cara’s reply in a heartbeat.
I am your midnight stroll down memory lane. Remember me?
His throat tightened, unvoiced emotion choking it. The events that led up to that night had always had a thin, filmy layer to it in his memories, one that Cara’s texts were setting fire to.
“It looks good,” he said, his voice level and steady, handing the phone back to her. This time she made sure their hands didn’t touch, and he felt the loss of that soft contact, keenly.
She tapped a finger on the screen, sending the message on its way. Her finger continued to tap a staccato rhythm against the glass of her phone screen. Cara has always done that when her nerves had gotten the better of her. Virat was about to say something reassuring, but Kabir reached over and covered her noisy finger with his hand, squeezing to offer comfort.
“So,” Kabir said now, smiling at the room. Virat could have sworn he saw the collective IQ of the women in the room drop as they sighed. Everyone but Cara, who was still looking at her phone like it contained the secrets of the universe. “Let’s talk about this group you guys want me to infiltrate.”
“There is a business awards event happening later this week,” Ishaan volunteered. “Ashish’s girlfriend is tipped to win something, so they’re bound to be there. That might work for the first meeting.”
“What would I be doing at a business awards function?” Kabir wiggled his eyebrows comically.
Mayukhi let out a trilling laugh that had Ishaan’s eyebrows shooting up. “Easy Kraken,” he murmured. “You’re going to pee yourself in excitement.”
“Shut up,” she muttered, flushing a bright red.
Virat watched Cara to see if there was any hint of jealousy or possessiveness but there was none. She was still staring at her phone, apparently tuning them all out.
“There is a hospital fundraiser event later this week,” Amay volunteered. “Naveen’s father is a primary donor so there is a strong possibility his wife and he will be there, if not the others.”
“Do you need a celebrity donor?” Cara asked, finally putting her phone away.
“We need all the donors we can get,” Amay replied quietly. “It’s for the new pediatric cancer wing.”
“Kabs,” she said and Kabir nodded, seeming to instinctively understand what she hadn’t said as yet.
“How much do you guys need? My office will send over the cheque tomorrow.”
“I’ll have the hospital team reach out to you.”
Amay looked like he would kiss Kabir in gratitude, Virat thought uncharitably. He would have donated to the hospital, if he’dknown they were looking for donations. But he hadn’t had that information, had he? It seemed he, the man whose entire business was information, didn’t have a lot of information when it came to Cara Ferns and any part of this mess.
“That’s done then. We should get going now,” she said, that familiar, remote expression on her face as she glanced around the room, her gaze skipping over him like he didn’t exist. “Kabs, if you have time in the coming days, you should catch up with the guys so they can brief you on the Dusty Devils before the event.”
“The Dusty Devils,” Kabir drawled. “I cannot believe people who are doing such twisted, serious shit call themselves something as ridiculous as Dusty Devils.”
“Well, they’re vicious, spiteful, power mad assholes with clearly zero creative thought between them,” Ishaan muttered.
“They were vicious, spiteful, power mad assholes when they were children,” Virat said quietly. “They’re powerful, vindictive adults with God complexes now. They believe their money, power and reach makes them untouchable, invulnerable, and it has.”