He pulled her another inch toward him, their foreheads almost touching. Finally, his eyes lowered to her face.
“I am doing this only for the sake of appearances,” he said with jaw clenched. “The Goels may not, butIstill have a reputation to maintain. And I will never stand by and watch someone else… even my own brother… behave as if my wife belongs to him. If you dance, then you dance with me, Mishti. With your husband. No one else.”
The way he said the wordhusbandwas completely hot and possessive.
“I see,” she sighed. “So, this is all for the sake of appearances. But then, just like the way you told your brother and best friend how disinterested you were in this marriage, why not tell the world the same thing? It will save you from all this pretence in future.”
She had struck the point brutally, and she knew it. In one swift motion, he pulled her closer…so close their bodies aligned, leaving no gap for even air to pass between them. It was the kind of touch which was too intimate for a man who claimed to feel nothing for his wife.
“Do not teach me what I have to do, Mishti,” he warned.
Her gaze rose to his face while his eyes lowered to her parted lips for a fleeting second before he forced them upward again, fighting whatever had sparked inside him.
“If I wanted the world to know what I truly think of this marriage,” he continued, “you wouldn’t have to remind me.Iwill decide when others have to know the reason behind our marriage. Not you.”
His eyes moved back to the DJ, and the silent signal was understood at once. The music faded away, replaced by a ripple of applause. Karan reached for Mishti’s arm and gently dragged her down from the dance floor. A server stepped forward and placed a microphone in his hand, and Karan turned to the gathering, commanding their attention without raising his voice.
Mishti stood still beside him, just as everyone else did, waiting for him to speak. There was something in the way he held himself at the centre of the gathering that silenced the low murmur of conversations around them.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for being a part of our celebration tonight,” he began. “This party has been organised for two reasons.”
He paused deliberately, allowing anticipation to ripple through the crowd.
“First,” he continued, “to celebrate Abhimanyu’s return after the successful deal signing in France. This is his welcome back.”
Applause followed. Abhimanyu smiled, nodding politely, while Rajat leaned closer to him, smiling with him, knowing what Karan was going to announce next.
“And second,” Karan went on, “to announce the newest member of the Board of Directors of KW Capital Ventures.”
Whispers broke out almost instantly, speculating who it was.
Then Karan’s eyes found Mishti.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he added, “please put your hands together for my wife, Mrs Mishti Wadhwa, the newest member of the board.”
For a moment, Mishti did not breathe.
Applause erupted around her, voices rising in congratulations, but she stood frozen, the words refusing to settle into reality. He appointedheras a board member inhiscompany. How? He didn’t even mention this before. There was not even a single hint that Karan had planned anything like that.Neither Rajat nor Abhimanyu. This was not a small decision. It was monumental. And it had been dropped on her in front of everyone.
Before she could gather herself, Rajat stepped forward, smoothly reclaiming the attention of the crowd.
“Well,” he announced cheerfully, “this definitely calls for a celebration. Let us open a bottle of champagne for our newest board member.”
A waiter handed him the bottle, but before Rajat could do anything further, Karan reached out and took it from his hand. Once again, the movement was unmistakably possessive. He popped the cork beside Mishti, the sound drawing another round of cheers. He poured champagne into the glasses of those closest to him, Rajat, Abhimanyu, Kanika, whose expression had tightened noticeably, though she masked it quickly.
Then Karan turned to Mishti.
Without asking, he placed a glass in her hand, his fingers closing briefly over hers to ensure she did not pull away. He filled it himself.
“Let us toast to your new position,” he said, faking a smile. “Come here.”
He raised his glass and clinked it against hers, then drained his drink in one swift motion.
Mishti watched him, stunned, the champagne untouched in her hand. Reading the uncountable questions in her eyes, he finally leaned closer.
“Do not let this go to your head,” he murmured slowly. “You did not earn this position. Rajat and Abhimanyu pushed for it.”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. She did not drink, but she did not put it down either. From the outside, she played the part expected of her.
