“Good,” I murmur. “I like that.”
Her light brown eyes say more than her lips ever could. They’re expressive, honest. She doesn’t even realize how much they reveal.
“Now, my dear fiancée,” I say, letting my knuckles brush against her cheekbone. She flinches, and I notice the fear lingering in her gaze as she looks at my hand hovering over her cheek from the side-eye.
It's imagination,I guess.
Ever since I saw her today, I’ve wanted to touch her. I’m trying to control myself, I really am—but I fail. She shudders beneath my touch and I can’t deny how much I like the effect I have on her. “I recall giving you a black card the day before yesterday, Is that correct?”
She nods, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity.
“Then why is my bank balance the same as that day?” I ask, voice low and threatening.
“Um... I didn’t use the card,” she says cautiously.
“And why not? I specifically told you to buy whatever you want, didn't I?” I grip her chin gently.
“Maa didn’t let me pay,” she says quickly.
“Maa?” I ask. As far as I remember, her mom wasn’t supposed to go with her; that's what Maa said, that she wanted to spend time with Shivani so that she could get to know her better. I see a panic flash in her eyes. She quickly averts her gaze.
“Um... I’m sorry, your mother told me to call her ‘Maa.’ If you don’t like it, I can—” I silence her with a finger on her lips. They’re soft. Plump.
“Stop. You’ll do what you like. You don’t need my permission.” I make that crystal clear. I like hearing her call my mother ‘Maa.’
Now that they’ve bonded, I know my mom will always take her side—and I’m not complaining. That’s exactly what I want. But I have to admit it will sting just a little knowing how quickly my mother is going to change teams.
“What did you buy?” I ask.
“My wedding dress,” she says, swallowing hard.
“Can I see it?” I can’t help but ask. The thought of seeing her in that dress sets my mind racing. I don't know what dress she bought, but one thing I am sure of is that she will look gorgeous. She's stunning, after all, the kind of woman who could stop traffic.
Her eyes widen, and she twists her fingers, her eyes darting toward the floor. I wonder if she’s hiding something—or just too afraid to speak her mind. She shakes her head slowly, “No. Absolutely not.”
My brow lifts in amusement. Did the shy, timid Shivani just say no to me?
I’m surprised. And amused. She’s terrified at the idea of me seeing the dress when I could probably see her in anything—especially a wedding dress, considering we’re getting married.
I laugh. “You do realize I’ll be seeing you in it on our wedding day, right? Isn’t that the whole point?”
She nods. “It’s just... it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride’s dress before the wedding. Your mom said so.”
I try to hide my irritation. “Who made up that rule? And why are you listening to my mom so much? You’re my fiancée now, and I want to see the dress.”
Her face pales, lips trembling. She fidgets with her hands like she’s about to cry. “It’s... it’s a tradition. It’s considered bad luck if the groom sees the bride in the dress before the wedding. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say gently, my hand reaching out to her shoulder to calm her down. “You don’t have to be scared of me.” It bothers me that she’s scared of me. And how easily! I haven't even raised my voice at her. That’s not what I want; I do not want her to be afraid of me.
“Listen, Shivani. Except for my family—and two idiotic friends I have—I’ve never really let anyone into my personal space. Especially not this close. If I ever act rude or harsh, it’s not about you. It’s just... a habit. Don’t say anything at the moment,because that may make the matter worse, but later, tell me if I’ve said something that hurt you.” I haven’t had anyone in my life, not really, not since college. Sure, I’ve had meaningless sex—but no woman has ever stepped into my office or my bedroom. This is new. And I really want to try. I want to give her beautiful things. Things she deserves.
I see her shoulders relax, her breathing ease. She looks up at me, her eyes soft but unreadable.
“Thank you,” she whispers. She bites her lower lip, like she wants to say something more but isn’t sure if she should.
“Say it, Shivani.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cheek.
“It’s just... downstairs, when we were eating—you were smiling and laughing. I didn’t know you had a soft side.”
