He nodded to the security who had their own vehicle ready and before anyone could say another word, their little convoy was on its way.
Vedika snuggled into Daksh’s side, in the backseat, blissfully happy. What a wonderful day! The string quartet was back!
Daksh caught her hand gently as it started to wander inside his shirt and returned it to her lap. “No, sweetheart,” he said, his voice achingly sweet.
“Why?” she pouted. “You don’t like it?” Her stomach squirmed, not the good kind of squirming, as she sat back. “Is it the hair?” she patted the short, flyaway strands. “I can stick it back. I wanted to ask the lady to give it to me but she didn’t. Maybe, I’ll go back tomorrow and oh…” Her voice trailed off.
“What’s wrong?” Daksh’s voice sharpened.
“My tummy hurts.” Her voice quivered. “Oh this is not good.”
The car sped up almost like Kabir had jammed his foot down on the accelerator. “Five minutes, Vedu,” he said from where he was pretending not to listen to the shenanigans in the backseat.
“Hmm.” Vedika’s head was starting to spin. She closed her eyes and dropped it to the seatback. A strong arm went around her, pulling her close. She snuggled into Daksh’s chest, giving the muscles under her cheek one last, longing stroke.
Her stomach twanged again but in a distant, warning kind of way. “I think,” she said, sleepily, “I’m fucked.”
“No sweetheart.” Daksh’s husky murmur reached her through the waves of sleep. “I am.”
CHAPTER 30
DAKSH
He droppedKabir and the girls back to their home and left before Vedika could grab him again. He knew that if she did, he’d grab her back and never let go. This was getting out of hand. He needed to get home, pack his shit and get on a flight out of here. And he needed to forget all about his brother’s ex-fiancée and the fact that she seemed to have imprinted herself on his brain.
This was wrong. Not her. She would never be wrong. Not to him. But the timing, the circumstances…all of it. It was wrong. And Daksh may be the family fuck up and his family may be completely fucked up, but even he could see what a trainwreck this would be. That was even before he took into consideration the fact that her father looked at him with murder in his eyes.
So, the simplest thing to do would be to go. Anywhere, it didn’t matter where. On a good day, Daksh was a nomad. He had a base in New York but he was rarely home for longer than a week at a time. This was the longest break he was taking from work and that was only because he’d needed it for the command performance at the ‘wedding that did not happen’.
But walking away from Vedika tonight had been hard, really hard. Leaving town without seeing her again? It would be exponentially difficult. But this wasn’t the first time he’d done the hard. Most days, he lived the hard. That was pretty much the cards life had dealt him.
The cab pulled up in front of his house and he paid the driver and got out. The house was thankfully in darkness which meant he didn’t need to speak to anyone. All he needed to do was pack and then head for the airport. He’d look for the first, feasible flight out of here on the cab ride after dropping a message to his mom and brother, wishing them goodbye.
It was when he walked past the living room that he realised that his quick getaway under the cover of night was in jeopardy.
“Where have you been?” Ashish sat in a large, winged armchair, shrouded in darkness, his voice holding an extra edge to it tonight.
“Sorry I’m late, Dad,” Daksh quipped, walking over to where his brother sat and turning on the light. Shit. His brother was a mess.
He wore loose tracks and no shirt. His hair stood up in spikes, his eyes were red rimmed and his breath stank of alcohol. It wasn’t just his breath, Daksh realised. The smell seemed to come from his very pores.
Resigned to his fate, Daksh sat down in the chair across from him. “How long have you been drinking?” he asked, quietly.
“What else is there to do?” Ashish asked, swinging his glass around, whiskey sloshing over the rim. “The fucking Thakkars have ruined me.”
No, he’d ruined himself, Daksh thought but didn’t say. He’d had the world in his palm and the idiot had played roulette with it.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“No, Mom,” Ashish retorted, mimicking Daksh’s earlier response.
Daksh sighed. “What are you doing Ashish?”
Ashish leaned forward, his drink sloshing violently in the glass with the movement. “What areyoudoing Daksh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daksh kept his voice level.
“What was that picture you took last year? The one that was in that famous exhibition?”
