“I am so sorry, Meera. What you’re thinking… it’s not like that.”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Meera says with tired indifference, stepping further inside. She lifts her suitcase from beside the couch, places it on the table, and unzips it, pulling out her clothes with calm, precise movements. “You guys can carry on.”
My jaw tightens at her words, red-hot anger pulsing through me.
“Good to hear,” Esha coos at her, then turns to me, her fingers brushing my arm lightly. “Dev, let’s party tonight.”
“Fine,” I say, but my eyes never leave Meera.
“I knew you wouldn’t say no to me,” Esha beams, rising to her feet. “Let me quickly get dressed, then we both can—”
“Not just we,” I interrupt. “My wife will join us too.”
Her smile falters as she looks down at me. “But, Dev, she—”
“She is coming. Or you can cancel your plan,” I cut in, my voice leaving no room for argument.
“I’ll get dressed,” Esha huffs, stomping out without another word.
Meera pulls out her nightdress and zips her bag shut, then turns to me. “I know you can’t say no to your darling girlfriend, but I am not going with you two.”
I rise to my feet, my gaze locking onto hers. “You are coming with us, Mrs. Rathore.”
“I am not.” Her eyes harden. “Look, I’ve had a long day, and I am not dealing with this right now.”
At her words, I study her carefully. Her hair is slightly mussed, her peach salwar suit rumpled, her face tired.
“Where were you the whole day?” I ask, my tone edged with both concern and command.
“None of your business.”
I step towards her. “It’s my business to know everything about my wife.”
“Really?” she snaps. “You want me to give you a timetable now? Should I ask your permission for every damn thing I do? Even if I drink water, like some obedient housewife?”
“Yes.” I fold my arms. “Now tell me where you were, because I won’t be this patient for long.”
She huffs. “Work.”
I raise a brow. “Work?”
“Yes, Dev. Work. I still have my job.”
“Did you meet that loser journalist friend of yours?” I grind out.
“Yes. And you’ll be happy to know we’ve cleared up the misunderstanding you created,” she responds, an infuriating smile playing on her lips.
Heat surges through my veins. Anger, jealousy, desire… all twisting my thoughts together. I step closer. So close that she has to tilt her head to hold my gaze.
“If that loser journalist friend of yours dares to touch what’s mine—”
“I am not yours,” she snaps, cutting me off sharply.
I grab her arms and pull her closer. “Don’t test me, sweetheart. I fucking won’t tolerate that loser anywhere near you.”
“Will you stop with this possessiveness crap of yours?” She yanks her hands free, fury blazing in her eyes. “You don’t get to say that. And you sure as hell can’t have an issue with me meeting Samarth, not when you were just here with your girlfriend… inourroom. So stop being a hypocrite, Dev.”
“Hypocrite or not, understand this clearly,” I say, forcing control over the darker edge in my voice. “Being with him is a line you don’t get to cross.” Then, I nod towards her suitcase and change the subject. “You need to unpack. It’ll be more comfortable. I’ll have the staff arrange your clothes in the wardrobe.”
