“You’re hogging my time, my attention, and most importantly, my wife,” I mutter, pointing an accusing finger at him. “She’s my wife first. You’re just... a new tenant who hasn’t signed a lease.”
Simba lifts his chin slightly, regal, smug even. God help me, the damn cat reminds me of myself. Same black eyes. Same intense, unbothered stare. Same attitude, like the whole world can go to hell and we wouldn’t blink. I must be insufferable.
I rub my face, exasperated. “Great. Now I’m arguing with a cat who’s basically a smaller, fluffier version of me.” We’re locked in a full-on staring match now, neither of us willing to back down. I swear he narrows his eyes at me, daring me to try and make him move.
“What are you two doing?” Shivani’s amused voice breaks our staring contest.
I glance toward the door to see Shivani leaning against the frame, arms crossed, an amused smile tugging at her lips. She’s wearing one of my shirts again, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and I feel my heart trip over itself.
“Are you having a meeting with Simbu?” She teases, laughter dancing in her voice. “Should I come back later? Looks serious.”
I sit up straighter, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, he’s been taking liberties. He thinks he owns the place. And you.”
She walks over, laughing, and ruffles Simba’s head affectionately before leaning down and brushing a kiss on my forehead. “Jealous much?” She whispers against my skin.
Yes.
I scowl, catching her wrist gently before she can pull away. “Very much. In case you haven’t noticed, he gets more cuddles than I do lately.”
She giggles and plops herself on my lap without warning, straddling me like she belongs there—because she does—and cups my face in her hands.
“Well, what can I say,” she mutters, teasing, “he’s less grumpy.”
I growl low in my throat, making her laugh harder. “You like my grumpiness,” I murmur, sliding my hands up her thighs, pulling her a little closer. “Admit it.”
She pretends to think for a second, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Hmm. Maybe a little.”
I tilt my head as I narrow my eyes on her, my lips brushing hers in a barely-there kiss. “Liar,” I whisper against her mouth.
She smiles into the kiss, her fingers threading into my hair, and just like that, the world narrows down to just the two of us. I kiss her deeper, pouring everything I’m feeling into it — the love, the jealousy, the stupid affection I have even for the damn cat because he makes her happy.
When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, breathing me in. “I love you, Rudra,” she whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, because I feel it in every touch, every look, every damn breath she takes. I wrap my arms around her tightly, pressing her to me like I can somehow keep her safe from the world just by holding her close. She sighs contentedly against my chest, her fingers drawing lazy circles on the back of my neck.
Then, just as I’m thinking the moment couldn’t get any more perfect, Simba jumps down from the chair and rubs himself against Shivani’s leg, purring loudly. I glance down, and there he is—the little furball—looking up at me like he knows. Like he understands exactly how jealous I am.
He stares at me, all smug and victorious, as if to say, She’s mine too; deal with it. I narrow my eyes at him. He had the guts to narrow his eyes back.
God help me, I’m losing to a damn cat.
48
SHIVANI
Frustration claws at me as I search for the perfect dress. But it isn't that simple, and it's all because of Rudraksh.
We’re getting ready for a business party. Rudra told me about it this morning—this morning—and I still can’t believe him. Who drops something like that hours before an event? I groaned, complained, and threw a pillow at his face, and he just smiled like the smug man he is.
"I swear, sometimes I think you enjoy stressing me out," I mutter, flipping through hangers in the closet.
From behind me, I hear his voice, lazy and amused. "I like the way you look when you're flustered. Hair all messy, cheeks flushed, that cute little pout—drives me insane."
I turn to glare at him. “Rudra, this is a business party, not your personal runway show.”
He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes dragging slowly over my body with an infuriating amount of heat. “And yet, you still manage to look like sin even in that faded t-shirt.”
My eyes narrow, and I huff aloud. “If I show up in pajamas, it’s your fault.”
