The One She Was Warned About (11 page)

‘Tell her I’m sorry,’ he mouthed, and Priya relayed the message faithfully.

‘He can go boil his head!’ was the short and rather inelegant response.

Priya almost groaned aloud in despair. Of all the things to say! No wonder Shweta ended up with all the boring Siddhant types if this was the way she treated her men.

Nikhil’s mouth was twitching with amusement, though—telling him to go boil his head sounded more like the fiery Shweta he knew than the ice maiden who’d put the phone down on him.

He’d realised he’d overstepped the mark the instant he’d made that remark about two-timing, and he was heartily sorry. He’d felt insanely jealous, though. He didn’t believe for a moment that she had any feelings left for Siddhant, but the thought that she’d seriously considered marrying him when she wasn’t even attracted to the man was a perpetual thorn in his side. It all boiled down to the same thing—Siddhant was eligible and he wasn’t. Even if he did convince Shweta to marry him she’d always feel she’d settled for second-best. If he had any pride he’d give up on her, but the thought of spending the rest of his life without her was unbearable.

‘Ask her if I can speak to her,’ he said to Priya.

‘No, he bloody well can’t!’ Shweta yelled from inside the room. ‘Tell him to go away or I’ll call the cops.’

There was silence outside the room for a few minutes, and then Shweta heard the front door shut. There was a tentative knock on her door, and Priya said, ‘He’s gone.’

‘Good,’ Shweta said grumpily. Shouting at Nikhil had lessened her anger somewhat—and in hindsight she could understand his being upset. Though she still couldn’t see her way towards forgiving him for the accusation he’d made.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Are you sure he’s gone? Because if he isn’t I’ll call your mom right now and tell her all about your boyfriend.’

‘He’s gone,’ Priya said. ‘Stop threatening me.’

Shweta got up and opened the door. Priya studied her carefully. ‘You look like a homicidal maniac,’ she said. ‘Go and comb your hair, for heaven’s sake. What was the hullabaloo about?’

‘I had a fight with Nikhil,’ Shweta said as she hunted for a comb.

Priya rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Fancy that—I’d never have guessed.’

‘He said I was two-timing him with Siddhant.’

‘I did tell you that dinner was a bad idea,’ Priya said. ‘Though keeping loverboy on his toes isn’t a bad strategy either. By the way, I don’t think he’s gone—I didn’t hear his car start. He’s got one of those expensive jobs, hasn’t he? The engine sounds quite different. I noticed that when he pulled up in front of the building.’

Shweta went to the window. Sure enough, Nikhil’s car was still there. She pulled the curtains together decisively.

‘He can wait there all night if he wants,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to let him off so easily.’

Priya looked impressed. ‘Remind me to take lessons from you on putting boyfriends in their place,’ she said. ‘That is if you still have a boyfriend at the end of this.’

Shweta was also privately beginning to wonder if Nikhil would still be around after the way she’d behaved. Perhaps she should let him in after all. Then his words came back to her and she stiffened her resolve. She hadn’t asked him to wait outside—he should have listened to her and gone away for a while.

She drifted into an uneasy slumber after Priya left the room. Weird dreams plagued her, in which she ended up marrying Siddhant. Only at the last moment Siddhant slipped away, to be replaced by a giant alarm clock. After the fifth such dream she woke with a start. The luminous hands of her watch told her that it was three in the morning. Unable to stop herself, she got up and went to the window. Nikhil’s car was still there.

‘I give up!’ she said in annoyance, and switched her phone on. Dialling Nikhil’s number, she watched him as he sat up and took the call.

‘Hey, Shweta,’ he said.

His familiar voice sent little tendrils of longing through her. ‘Why are you still here?’

‘I’m not going until I get to see you and apologise,’ he said. ‘I was way out of line—I got jealous and lost my head.’

Shweta felt her resolve melt further at his admission. ‘There was no reason for you to be jealous,’ she said. ‘If anything, I should be the one throwing jealous tantrums about you spending all your time with models and actresses.’

‘I know. But what can I say? I’m not always rational.’

‘Will you go home now?’

She couldn’t see him clearly, but she could sense he was shaking his head. ‘Not till I see you.’

‘You’d better come up, then,’ she said in resigned tones. ‘You can’t spend the whole night in your car.’

She went out and opened the front door. He was there in a few seconds. ‘Your watchman was fast asleep,’ he said as he came in. ‘I don’t think this place is very safe.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have opened the door if you were a burglar,’ Shweta said. ‘Go into my room. I’ll lock up and join you in a minute.’

He was sitting on her bed looking suitably contrite when she came in. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said.

Shweta plumped down next to him. It was several days since they’d last been alone together, and her hands ached to touch him. It didn’t help that he was looking particularly appealing—his hair had grown out a little and was flopping over his forehead in just the way she liked, and he was wearing a shirt in her favourite shade of midnight-blue. There was a slight stubble covering his face, and that added to his rather dangerous attractiveness.

‘I can’t handle anyone being controlling or possessive with me,’ she said. ‘My dad isn’t possessive, but he’s always been controlling—it took me years to break away from his influence, even after I’d grown up and left home. I’m not about to let myself be bossed around again, with you telling me whom I should meet and whom I shouldn’t.’

‘I understand,’ he said, and it was clear he did. ‘It won’t happen again.’

It was getting more and more difficult to stay angry with him, and Shweta clenched her hands together in frustration.

‘I don’t even understand
why
you behaved the way you did!’ she burst out. He raised his head, an arrested look on his face. ‘I mean, I could have married Siddhant if I wanted to.
Why
would I dump him and start going around with you if it was him I wanted all along?’

Put that way, it was a difficult thing for him to explain—and in any case Nikhil wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her everything.

‘You were always thinking of
him
in terms of marriage,’ he said, struggling to put at least part of his thoughts across without offending her. ‘But marriage is the last thing on your mind as far as
I’m
concerned. I know you have your reasons. It’s just a little...difficult to deal with at times.’

‘You’re a prize idiot,’ Shweta said despairingly. ‘Of
course
I was thinking marriage when I thought of Siddhant! I’m pushing thirty. I want to get married and have a family. I haven’t ever had a serious relationship—all the men I know are good friends and not much else, and the few I’ve dated because I’m attracted to them turned out to be complete losers.’

‘Didn’t you consider an arranged marriage?’ Nikhil was genuinely curious now—he’d never thought about the whole Siddhant thing from this angle before.

‘There needs to be someone to do the arranging,’ she said dryly. ‘My father doesn’t believe in arranged marriages, so a marriage of convenience seemed the best bet till you came along.
That’s
why I was thinking of marrying Siddhant—he was pleasant enough, and he obviously wanted to marry me. And that’s a rare combination, let me tell you.’

‘Aren’t
I
pleasant, then?’ he asked, half-laughing, half-serious. Shweta looked into his eyes for a few seconds before getting onto her knees and leaning across to kiss him, slowly and lingeringly. It was the first time she’d had the opportunity to control a kiss in exactly the way she wanted—usually his reactions were so fast that she didn’t get to explore fully, at her own pace. Now, however, he let her do as she liked, leaning back to give her better access as she unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands across his chest, but not initiating anything himself. She gave a long sigh when she finally dragged her lips away from his.

‘No, you’re not pleasant,’ she said. ‘You’re maddeningly attractive, and you make me want to throttle you and make love to you at the same time. Sometimes I think I won’t be able to survive another minute if I don’t have you. And you’re there when I need you, and you’re so thoughtful most of the time that I can’t deal with it when you stop thinking and acting like an irrational idiot. So, no, you’re not pleasant. But I love you all the same.’

‘That’s good enough for me,’ he said, and there was a slight catch in his voice. ‘Only I warn you—I’m not going to give up on convincing you to marry me.’

She put her arms around him, and this time he did respond, with a speed and suddenness that left her gasping for breath. Much later she thought that if he’d asked her to marry him at that instant she’d have agreed like a shot.

EIGHT

‘Why aren’t you
agreeing to get engaged?’ Veena peered worriedly across the table at Shweta.

Nikhil was out of town for the day, and Shweta had offered to come over and spend time with Veena after work. Now, after ten minutes of being cross-examined by Veena on every possible aspect of her relationship with Nikhil, she was wishing she’d stayed back in the office.

‘I’m not sure if he’s really in love with me,’ she said.

When they’d woken up the morning after they’d made up he’d turned to her and said, ‘You know, you’re the only person I know who’s been really, really angry with me multiple times and hasn’t ended up calling me an illegitimate bastard.’

Evidently he thought that was the ultimate proof of her goodness as a human being, and that had further confirmed her opinion on why he wanted to marry her. He might not be conscious of it himself, but he felt that he was safe with her—she knew everything about him, and she accepted him the way he was. In Delhi he’d told her that the only girl he’d been in a long-term relationship with had broken off with him when she found out he was illegitimate. He’d made a joke of the incident, but Shweta couldn’t help feeling that it had affected him badly. And the facts spoke for themselves—since then he’d had one meaningless fling after another.

‘I don’t know why you think that,’ Veena was saying. ‘He’s crazy about you. He can’t stop singing your praises.’

Shweta sighed. This was why she hadn’t wanted to come. She didn’t like discussing Nikhil with anyone—and especially not his stepmother. She wasn’t even sure why she was holding out, not agreeing to marry Nikhil, when every cell in her brain was crying out to her to say yes. For the last few days she had been wondering if she’d made a mistake—Nikhil had displayed every sign of being deeply in love with her.

‘It’s complicated,’ she said finally.

Veena stayed silent for a while, then she asked diffidently, ‘Does Nikhil talk about his parents?’

‘Not much,’ Shweta said, feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘I get the impression he’s not on good terms with them.’

‘No, he quarrelled very badly with his father when he visited us last. But I know his father would forgive him if he just made the first move—called him up, or visited us in Kerala.’

‘From what I understand, Nikhil thinks it’s his father who needs forgiving,’ Shweta said sharply.

Veena looked even more distressed. ‘He doesn’t understand... It’s my fault. I should speak to him, but it’s so difficult...’

‘I don’t think it’s your fault at all,’ Shweta told her. ‘Let’s talk of something else, Veena Aunty. I don’t think Nikhil would be very happy if he knew we were discussing his parents.’

Veena changed the topic, but after dinner she came back to it again. ‘Shweta, I know you think you shouldn’t get involved, but it would help so much if you could speak to Nikhil once. He’ll listen to you—he cuts me off every time I bring up the topic.’

Privately Shweta thought that Nikhil would cut her off as well—and a lot more rudely. Persuading Veena of this was way beyond her powers, though, and Shweta found herself agreeing to try and speak to him.

At least one person seemed happy, she thought gloomily as she left the flat—Veena was beaming. Clearly she thought Shweta would have everything sorted in no time.

Nikhil got back to Mumbai the next day, and he called her almost as soon as he landed.

‘Can you get out of the office a little early today?’ he asked. ‘I thought we could meet up for a drink after work and you could come over for dinner with us afterwards—I was planning to order in so Amma gets a break from cooking.’

For once Shweta wasn’t looking forward to meeting him, and she almost chickened out before better sense prevailed. Given that she’d been stupid enough to promise Veena that she’d speak to Nikhil, she might as well get it done with.

‘I can leave by six,’ she said. Deepa was out for a meeting, and it was best to leave before she got back.

‘Great. I’ll pick you up from outside your office.’ He paused, then said softly, ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Umm...me too,’ Shweta said self-consciously.

There were multiple disadvantages to working in an open office—not least of which was everyone around her being able to hear what she was saying. She rang off as soon as she could, and went back to work—she’d dawdled a bit in the first half of the day, and would have to work like a beaver to be done by six.

Nikhil took her to a rooftop lounge bar in a swanky new hotel—thirty-four floors up, it had an amazing view of the Mumbai skyline on one side and the sea on the other.

The wind whipped at Shweta’s hair, and she grimaced a little as she sat down next to him on an elegant black sofa.

‘Don’t you like it?’ Nikhil asked.

‘Oh, I do,’ she said. ‘It’s just that if I’d known we were coming here I’d have dressed up a little.’

She was wearing a lime-green cotton
salwar kameez
, with matching leather slippers. Everyone else was in Western clothes, and there were a fair number of foreigners around. Nikhil himself was wearing an expensive-looking jacket over jeans and a white linen shirt, and his shoes looked as if they were designer-made.

His gaze softened as he looked at her. Her cheeks had turned pink and her hair was tousled by the breeze. She’d never looked prettier.

‘You look perfect,’ he said. ‘I like you better in regular clothes than when you’re dressed up with make-up on.’

Given that she’d spent a frantic ten minutes in the office loo, trying to do her face, that didn’t say much for her make-up skills, but Shweta laughed.

‘That’s because you’re used to hobnobbing with actresses and models all the time,’ she said. ‘It’s a relief being with a frump.’

‘You’re not a frump.’ Nikhil leaned across and touched her face lightly. ‘I always thought you were beautiful—even when you were in school and wore those hideous glasses with black plastic frames.’

Shweta put her head to one side. ‘That’s a bit difficult to believe,’ she said. ‘Sure you aren’t brainwashing yourself? Telling yourself you’ve always loved me and that it was fate, meeting me again...?’

‘I’m sure,’ he said, and tipped her face up to drop a kiss on her lips.

Shweta squirmed away—she was conservative enough to feel uncomfortable about kissing in public. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘There are other people around.’

He moved away a little and gave her an indulgent smile. ‘You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,’ he said.

‘I’m even cuter when I wallop people with my handbag,’ she retorted. ‘And that’s what going to happen to you if you try kissing me again.’

‘I have a violent girlfriend,’ Nikhil informed the server who’d just come up with their drinks. ‘If you see blood pouring out of my head you’ll know I’ve just been savagely attacked by her.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the man said gravely.

Shweta went scarlet. ‘He’s joking,’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And there aren’t any oranges in my sangria. Only enough apples to make a pie with.’

He peered into her glass. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll let the bartender know. I think the recipe we use doesn’t have oranges in it. Can I offer you something else instead?’

‘No, it doesn’t matter.’

She looked so disappointed that Nikhil laughed.

‘Why are you so stuck on the oranges?’ he asked when the server had gone away. ‘I think you injured that poor man’s pride, finding fault with his recipe.’

Shweta glared at him. ‘You’ll be the one injured if you make any more stupid remarks. And a lot more than just your pride.’

Nikhil laughed and threw up his hands in surrender. ‘I’m sorry...I’m sorry. Couldn’t resist it.’

Slightly mollified, Shweta sat back and sipped at her drink. She’d had sangria for the first time in Spain, and loved the way they made it there. It just didn’t taste as good without the oranges, but it would sound silly and pretentious to say so.

She was wondering how to broach the topic of his parents with Nikhil when she saw him take a jewellery box out of his pocket.

‘I got you something,’ he said.

He clicked the box open and there, nestled in black velvet, was a pair of exquisite diamond earrings. They matched the ring he’d given her earlier, and in the evening light the diamonds sparkled with all the colours of the setting sun.

‘They’re lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Nikhil!’ Taking them out of the box, she slid them into her ears.

Nikhil watched her and said, ‘I wish you’d done the same with the ring.’

She was about to give a flippant reply, but there was something in his voice that stopped her. ‘Nikhil—I’ve only asked for some more time,’ she said helplessly.

He met her gaze squarely. ‘You can have all the time you need. I’m not trying to pressure you into saying yes. It’s just that sometimes—well, sometimes I wish I didn’t have to wait.’

There was a short pause and Shweta kept on looking at him, scanning his eyes keenly. She’d come very close to agreeing to the engagement twice before, but doubts had held her back. Now she was almost a hundred percent sure that Nikhil was in love with her—the doubts were probably stemming from her own lack of self-confidence. There were risks, of course. Nikhil would never make a safe or comfortable husband, and with his lifestyle he would always be surrounded by women a dozen times more attractive than her. But which was better? Taking the risk of having her heart broken some years down the line, or making sure she got it broken right away by breaking up with him?

Nikhil looked away first. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is way too heavy for evening conversation.’ He picked up the jewellery box and put her old earrings into it, held the box out to her. ‘Here—maybe you should put these away before you lose them.’

As she took the box from him she noticed that his hands were shaking a little—and his lips were compressed, as if he was suppressing a strong emotion with some difficulty.

‘Have you got the ring with you?’ she asked.

Nikhil’s eyes flew to her face. He shook his head, but his eyes were ablaze with hope. ‘I’m a little superstitious about carrying it,’ he said. ‘Does this mean...?’

‘It means, yes—I’d love to marry you,’ Shweta said. Nikhil promptly pulled her into his arms and did his best to kiss her senseless. Shweta emerged from his arms a few minutes later with her hair tumbled and cheeks aflame.

‘I told you not to kiss me in front of other people,’ she muttered, but she wasn’t really angry this time.

Nikhil looked completely unrepentant. ‘Special circumstances,’ he said. His eyes were sparkling with devilry and he looked magnificent, with sunlight glinting off the angles of his perfectly sculpted face and his lean, strong body draped across the sofa.

‘You know, this is a pretty nice hotel,’ he said. ‘What do you say to checking into one of the rooms and celebrating our engagement properly?’

It sounded too tempting for words, but Shweta frowned in mock annoyance. ‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘We’re not officially engaged until you give me the ring anyway. And I want to finish my drink.’

Nikhil watched her sip at the drink. Under his scrutiny she grew more and more conscious, finally spilling a bit onto her clothes.

‘Stop it,’ she said, swatting at his hand as he leaned forward and mopped at the stain with a spotless handkerchief. ‘You’re doing it on purpose—looking at me like that.’

‘Like what?’ he asked innocently, leaning back in his chair. ‘Can’t I even look at my fiancée?’

His eyes were dancing with unholy glee and Shweta frowned at him. ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ she chided. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

‘There
was
something I wanted to ask you, actually,’ Nikhil said, and his abrupt switch to a serious tone made her look up in surprise. ‘Would you object if Amma came and lived here in Mumbai?’

‘I thought she didn’t want to move?’

‘I’m going to convince her,’ Nikhil said, and there was a confident smile on his lips. ‘I was originally going to ask her to move into my flat, but now I think it would work better for all of us if I get her another apartment in the same building.’

It was the perfect opening, and in spite of her misgivings Shweta took it.

‘Veena Aunty’s not going to move here until you sort things out with your dad,’ she said. ‘She’s spoken to me a couple of times about it.’

Nikhil frowned. ‘I thought I told you—my father and I aren’t on speaking terms any more.’

‘That’s exactly what’s upsetting Veena Aunty. Look, I don’t want to interfere, but for my sake just give her a fair hearing, OK? I won’t bring the topic up again afterwards.’

‘I’ll speak to her,’ Nikhil said. ‘But right now I’m calling for the bill, and then we’re heading to my office so that I can retrieve the ring. I knew it was a good sign, finding those matching earrings.’

‘Yes, of course—
that’s
why I agreed to marry you,’ Shweta said. ‘So that I could get a ring to match my earrings.’

He laughed. ‘I’m too worried that might be true to ask questions,’ he said. ‘I know how important it is for you to have matching accessories.’ He looked pointedly at her lime-green slippers and bag, and Shweta made a face. ‘But let’s come back here after we get the ring—I do want to celebrate properly.’

As it turned out they didn’t end up going back—Nikhil remembered that the ring was in his flat, and that Veena was there, waiting for them for dinner.

‘OK if I tell her?’ Nikhil asked in an undertone when they reached his apartment. ‘I’m sorry about this. I completely forgot that she was here, that I’d even told her we’d come back for dinner.’

‘You told me,’ Shweta said, suppressing a smile. It was rather endearing, his having forgotten all the plans he’d made for the evening just because she’d agreed to marry him. ‘Let’s tell her—and let’s celebrate by ordering in the most expensive meal possible.’

To say that Veena was over the moon was an understatement. She hovered over Shweta and made gushing remarks and generally got in the way, but it was impossible to be annoyed with her because she was so genuinely happy. The only sour note was introduced when she asked Nikhil when he would tell his parents.