Bollywood Fiancé for a Day (17 page)

Truth was, she had never been attracted to Munish. Never desired him. Never felt anything when he kissed her.

Had she been so intent on pleasing her father that she'd ignored even the necessity of facing that? She'd been too shy to bring it up with her groom-to-be. Somehow she'd even tended to lay the blame for it at her own door, concluding she simply wasn't capable of feeling the passion depicted in romantic flicks and novels.

Zaheer had shown her differently.

Different
was an understatement.

Being swept away by sheer thrill, feeling all tingly and alive when he came near her was new. Yet to trust that feeling above the security of marriage and commitment must be like letting go of a sturdy ship in favour of a dinghy in a brewing storm.

Utterly foolhardy.

His insight and his tenderness surprised her. Beneath all that cocky sureness existed a man who wanted her to explore her limits, a man sensitive enough to prod her held-back tears, comfort her in his rock-steady arms, not be repulsed by her crying…The feeling that evoked made her throat constrict. Sensitive as he had been about his mother, he was also hardened by his father's indifference. On his own admission, he almost hadn't been able to face a pretend engagement. True commitment was his phobia, his Kryptonite. He wouldn't get within a light year of it.

Which should make her topsy-turvy heart sit up and take note.

She punched her pillow and turned it over to find a cool spot. Just the fact that she was admiring him today didn't mean she was on the verge of falling for him.

But it could be dangerously easy…

No!

She'd tried to find oblivion in Zaheer's arms. Selfishly using him in her weak moment.

He had known it, and sensed what she was hiding. Oh, why couldn't she seem to hide anything from him? He saw through her every defence.

Was it that necessary to hide her true feelings, though?

She had been afraid to let people see her hurt, even her family. And the burden had grown inside her till it had become unbearable.

Zaheer was right. She'd been repressing her feelings for far too long. It was time to lower those defences. Lighten up a bit. Have some fun and enjoy her life before it was too late.

* * *

‘What? You wouldn't be staying for Saira's
phera
?'

Vishakha paused in the act of putting her clothes in the travel bag. Zaheer had called her in the morning, or more properly at noon, to ask how she was—a gesture she'd tried not to make much of—after all, he seemed to be helpful to everyone, including her fawning cousins. An inherent part of being a charming superstar, perhaps.

Or rather just being him.

She'd asked to come with him to Mumbai. He'd mentioned that the party where he planned to showcase her would be later in the week but didn't question her desire to leave home immediately. She made up her mind she would enjoy Mumbai for a bit before that. On her last visit she hadn't spared the time to look around, feeling compelled to come back for the wedding. But now things were different. Or maybe her perspective was.

Before she'd met him, she couldn't have thought of saying this to her mother.

‘No,' she said to her mom's query, her voice firm. It felt good to say that. Decisive. Well, at least she sounded decisive even if she didn't feel that way.

‘She's coming to visit this afternoon, you know, the post-marriage round.'

The gentle reproach in her mom's voice made her drop the jacket in her hand and walk around to her. ‘I told you what happened last night. This…' Her breath caught. Words weren't easy but somehow she had to find the will to say them.

Last night had made her realize a lot of this situation was her own fault. It wasn't the people around her but she who'd always stood aside out of a desire to please everyone and maintain the security she craved. Trying to keep everything butter-smooth in her home and, at its focal point, between her parents.

Well, their relationship maintenance wasn't her duty. She wished she'd thought of that before.

‘How can you ask me to stay for Saira, Mom? It's hard for me to be even in the same room with her, after what she did.' She faced the older woman. ‘And you know that, even though I've been trying to be nice about it. And she hasn't once, not once, showed any remorse over it. Until she realizes and apologizes for her part in the ending of my engagement, we can't mend our relationship. Part of it is your fault because you've always pushed me to keep her happy so now she feels she can do what she wants and walk all over me. Mom, you have to stop feeling guilty about loving your own daughter.'

‘Vishakha, I haven't…I didn't…Oh my God.' Her mother looked at her with suddenly misty eyes. ‘I've expected a lot of you but…I do love you, you know that.'

‘Oh Mom, don't cry, please! I know you do. I just needed you to show it more.' She hugged the older woman tightly, her tears squeezing out as she was hugged back.

The talk long overdue came in disjointed phrases and cut strings of sentences but at least it was happening. Her mom's regret was genuine. Even slightly shocked. At the end of it, she hugged her mom again and they both wiped away tears. Something like a manacle around her heart slipped away. She only wished she hadn't waited for things to get so bad before she had had the will to act. To share her feelings.

She finished packing and said goodbye to her father. In a short while, she'd be leaving for Mumbai. With Zaheer.

She saw his number flash on her cell and her heart picked up its beat. There were several decisions she'd made last night. One of them was about being with him, spending more time with him, even though the attraction between them showed no signs of abating. Rather she'd taken the plunge and brought forward her Mumbai visit. Wouldn't it be wiser to go later on, as planned, the voice of caution prodded her. She needn't attend Saira's visit. She could go out with friends if she wanted to miss it. But she knew.

She wanted to let things be.

To stop running away from her feelings and face what she felt for Zaheer.

Would it be the right thing for her? Or the biggest mistake she'd ever made?

CHAPTER TEN

Mumbai, four days later

‘C
OMFORTABLE?'

‘With the air conditioning going full blast in a luxury sedan? Are you kidding?' Vishakha smiled across at him, crossing a peep-toe heeled foot over the other. ‘Of course I am.'

‘You look different.' Briefly he studied her.

She did, she knew. And she felt different too.

In a pair of small-waisted tie-dye blue and beige jeans and a white V-neck top in soft, almost flimsy fabric, she felt casual yet dressy at the same time.

Last night he'd taken her to the premiere of his latest film, a mystery thriller in which he'd challenged the genre typecast again.

It had been great fun. She'd been excited to be at a celebrity function but even more pleased that she'd been prepared for it this time.

Gatherings had always intimidated her and for once she'd squarely looked at the reason why. Because she was always afraid of looking like a frump.

The day they'd arrived in Mumbai, she'd immediately got into contact with the stylist who'd recommended she wear the blue chiffon gown for the Dream Date event. She had to shell out some hard-earned cash for some new clothes. But it meant she didn't look out of place at the glitterati event she'd attended yesterday. This morning, with Zaheer busy with some ad work, she had had another appointment with the stylist, to buy casual clothes this time. It had been extremely educating. She'd learnt that she wasn't top-heavy at all, unlike the impression she had carried so long, wearing loose
churidars
to avoid drawing attention to her curves. She'd also become accustomed to hiding beneath the white doctor's coat. To tell the truth, she'd always been rather disparaging about the power of dressing well. Flatteringly, the stylist had stated that her figure was a near perfect hourglass and recommended a range of fabrics which emphasized the slenderness of her waist and made the most of her curves. A sea change from looking fat and dumpy, as she'd become used to feeling. She loved the filmy chiffon blouses she'd tried on, the pencil skirts, the fitted tops in delicate, clingy fabrics, and also the exquisitely tailored
churidars
that made her wonder at what the mirror revealed. A joy to discover that not just old jeans and worn T-shirts but new designer clothes could be comfortable too. Not to mention flattering.

The warm look in Zaheer's eyes now infused new confidence in her. There was no need to hide or slouch; rather she felt the desire to revel in her femininity, which felt new and exciting.

As per their plan, they were taking every opportunity to be seen together in the public eye. Lunching at posh restaurants with items on the menu she couldn't even pronounce. Dining at chic places. Lingering at happening bars. On her first day, determined to break her usual routine of avoiding alcoholic drinks, she'd tried a Screwdriver and got blitzed. Well, trying to be different didn't mean completely transforming! Seemed she'd been wise all those years to stay away from alcohol.

Mumbai was so different, she couldn't get over it. The city she'd heard described as Maximum city, Fusion town, Fifty Shades of Stray. She'd been intrigued to learn that it was named after the local deity Mumbadevi and it actually comprised a conglomeration of seven islands on the Konkan coast. Be it the towering skyscrapers, the crowded pavements or the art deco buildings at the Queen's Necklace, Mumbai had a face all its own and she'd relished discovering it with him.

Day three of their visit, he'd taken her to Lonawala. With lush green gorges and waterfalls down the steep hillside, it was breathtakingly spectacular. The climb made her dizzy and he stopped en route, sitting with her patiently while she waited for the medication he'd got for her to take effect. After they'd reached the top she'd felt better but the protective way he'd hovered over her had made her pretend just a bit to be under the weather, her cheeky side taking over.

What did that say about her feelings for him? Maybe she shouldn't dwell on that.

Today he was taking her to the film set which was nearing completion for his current film and reputed to be the most amazing of all designed sets in Bollywood. The historical saga of Rajput warriors was his only forthcoming project at the moment.

It was definitely huge. She gazed at the awesome structured fortresses, all looking fresh and new and absolutely authentic.

‘We're going to be filming the battle scene here,' he told her. ‘It's going to be a long one-off shot which requires the entire set to be constructed.'

‘It looks truly period,' she commented as he led her to the weaponry being used for the battle sequence that was being filmed.

‘The Rajputs were fierce warriors, trained to battle together or individually, to serve their clan till death. That's the prominent theme in the movie.' He showed her
khanda, aara,
javelin, all deadly-looking and awesome in detail, down to the carved handles. As they went outside again, in the distance she could see that the horses were being exercised and she couldn't help being impressed as Zaheer talked of learning swordsmanship and javelin-throwing for his role. Even if she hadn't already been impressed by his latest film, it would be quite obvious that he'd worked hard for this part and she began to revise her earlier disdain for his acting. Instead she felt a rush of pride at his enthusiasm, carried away by it as he talked of his role, his words becoming a rapid flow with the underlying excitement.

‘Dinner?' he asked as they began the return trip.

Conscious that her heart still beat fast from the tenderness she'd felt looking at the flush lighting his face as he'd talked of his latest project, Vishakha hesitated. Since they'd come to Mumbai, they'd shared nearly every meal but breakfast. She knew he'd been aware of her unwary regard several times at Lonawala but not mentioned it, maybe because of her pretext of being under the weather. She didn't want him catching on now.

He drove and her attention had been fixed on him rather than the road. During his absorption, she'd learnt, she could look her fill of him, albeit surreptitiously. Except for dinners and events necessitating a chauffeured limo, he always drove himself, usually his silver BMW, so it happened more often than not. His gaze cut across to her and she blinked, finally caught out. Yes, it was dangerous to be too much in his company. Even if it was for little more than a week, she would do better with a breathing space.

‘I'm tired,' she fibbed. ‘I think a quiet dinner would do.' She would go back to her hotel and order room service.

‘Quiet it is.'

Several minutes' worth of driving later, when her hotel showed no sign of turning up, she glanced at him, raising her brows. ‘Are we lost?'

His mouth curved. ‘We're going home.'

Home.
He lived in Versova, she knew, though she hadn't the faintest idea in which direction he was taking her. Finally, the car cruised down an Ashoka tree-lined driveway and stopped at a white and red brick beautifully structured house. In fact, a huge, sprawling bungalow flanked by clustering palm trees. Her heels clicked on the tiled pathway to the entrance. To the right, beyond the landscaped garden, she could make out the glimmer of the bluish reflection of a pool.

‘So you're fond of swimming.'

‘Of water.' He smiled.

Proved when he took her to the beach a few minutes later. While they'd sipped cool saffron-flavoured creamy
Thandai
in tall goblets, his cook had prepared and packed a picnic basket. A beautiful spread of golden sand and amethyst sea, secluded and all theirs, lay unfolded before them and Vishakha caught her breath at the sheer wonder of the setting sun slanting its orange rays over the waves.