Page 23 of Entangled Vows
He fucking hated how she got under his skin. One look from her, and it was like his entire system short-circuited. He had spent years locking his emotions behind his cool façade, and she waltzed in like she owned him, tearing down every goddamn wall without even trying. It pissed him off how much she affected him. And the worst part… he couldn’t help it.
“Uh, Vicky?” Arjun’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You good, man?”
“She’s drunk,” Vikram said flatly, his voice as icy as the whiskey in his glass. Inside him, a fire roared, threatening to burn through his control.
“Who’s drunk?” Vaayu asked, leaning forward to follow Vikram’s glare. His eyes landed on Mahika. “You know her?”
Vikram’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something darker. “Yeah. That’s my fucking fiancée.”
The words landed like a thunderclap, silencing the table.
“That’s your fiancée?” Kabir asked, half in disbelief, half amused. “Well, if my fiancée were dancing like that with any man other than me—”
Vikram cut him off, his tone low and dangerous. “I’m going to put my fist through that bastard’s face.”
He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he pushed his chair back with such force that it scraped loudly across the floor. Each movement was tense, controlled only by the barely contained rage coursing through him. Each stride was purposeful and intimidating, his sole focus to rip his fiancée away from the slimy hands of the asshole who thought he could get away with touching her.
10
Mahika was completely lost in the rhythm, the music flowing through her like a rush of liberating magic. This wild dance with a stranger… it was exactly what she needed right now. If anyone had told her a month ago that she’d be swaying like a carefree diva in some nightclub, she would have laughed in their face, and probably thrown up her beer. But here she was, dancing like she had no care in the world.
It was fucking reckless, yes, but it felt so damn good. And truth be told, it wasn’t even the craziest thing in her life right now. No, that honour went to the fact that she was about to marry Vikram, of all people. Ugh. That annoyingly handsome, impossibly maddening, insufferable oaf of a man. She needed to forget all about him, at least for tonight.
Tonight was about her freedom. No judgments, no expectations. Just the music, and her. And she was damn well going to enjoy it.
The guy she was dancing with, however, seemed to think it was the perfect moment to get a little too handsy. His hand slid lower on her waist, a little too grabby for her liking, as though he was about to make a move she hadn’t invited. If he thought she was drunk enough to let him take liberties like that, he was sorely mistaken.
She wasn’t drunk. Just pleasantly buzzed, a little lightheaded from the glass of wine she’d had earlier, but not to the point of losing control. It had only loosened her up enough to have fun without worrying about what anyone thought. She knew exactly when she would shove Mr. Sticky Hands away. No way was he getting away with anything. She wasn’t stupid, and she sure as hell wasn’t desperate for the attention of a handsy moron.
Thankfully, her brother Mohit was sitting upstairs in the VIP lounge. Thank God, he’d offered to accompany her and promised her he’d let her have a night of reckless fun. Honestly, it was a relief. Not that she needed rescuing. She was no damsel in distress. But tonight, having someone looking out for her just felt... safe, comforting.
The guy’s grabby hands slid lower, and Mahika’s patience finally snapped. This asshole was about to learn the hard way. She was about to shove him off when, out of nowhere, the pressure on her waist disappeared. Before she could even react, her body was pulled into a sudden spin. The world tilted for a second as she was yanked against something solid. A grip like steel wrapped around her waist, which was possessive, hot, and impossible to ignore. And then... her front was pressed against a chest that felt as though it had been carved from stone.
A sharp breath snagged in her throat. Her eyes dipped to the space where their bodies were pressed together. She was caught off guard by the man who had pulled her flush against him like she was a damn magnet. For a beat, she forgot everything, too aware of the heat radiating off him, the breadth of his shoulders, and the teasing glimpse of skin revealed by the V of his shirt, where a small patch of skin was dusted with just the right amount of hair.
Damn.
The thought of running her tongue along that skin hit her with an intensity that left her breathless. It was the sexiest thing she’d seen in... well, her entire life. But before she could fully process that dangerous thought, her gaze travelled up—way up—to the face attached to the suit. She inhaled sharply, and her heartbeat stumbled over itself. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, only to find none other thanVikram, her personalAntichrist.
Her body froze, as if every muscle in her body was staging a full-on protest.What the hell was happening to her?Was it the damn dress she was wearing? Was that why she was feeling so... hot?Or the fact that his body was pressed against hers in a way that made her want to climb him like a damn tree. And just like that, she realised maybe, just maybe, she’d had one too many drinks to be thinking like this about herfiancé.
She stared into his intense eyes and saw his jaw clenched tight. The air between them positively crackled, like it might burst into flames at any second. She couldn’t move. Her body was caught somewhere between total shock and... oh God, was itdesire?
His hand was still gripping her waist, his fingers pressing into her side, not comforting, but like he was marking his territory. Mahika tried to step back, but the moment she moved, his hold on her tightened. Damn it. She couldn’t even breathe right now.
“Really? This is how you’re spending your night, Momo?” Vikram’s voice sparked with irritation, but underneath it, something darker simmered.
Mahika turned, meeting his stormy gaze with a glare of her own. “How I spend my night is none of your business, Grizz.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes burning with what looked dangerously like possessiveness. “It becomes my business when some random asshole has his hands all over my fiancée.”
“What? Are you jealous now?”
Vikram stepped closer, his presence a wall of fire, his breath teasing the shell of her ear. Her spine went rigid, and a burst of electric sensation tingled through her.
“I’m not jealous,” he said in a low, lethal murmur. “But no one, I mean no one touches what’s mine. Got it, Momo?”
Her stomach did a full somersault at his words. And when he dragged out that stupid nickname in that tone, it hit her like a punch wrapped in a sensual promise. Like he was branding her with something only he had the right to use. And that grated on her nerves because shehatedthat nickname. Or at least, she used to. Sure, she loved momos… but hearing it now… ugh.Ormaybenot so ughanymore.
