"No, you're my wife. And you're in danger." His jaw tightened. "So you'll let me protect you, or I'll lock you in this house until the threat is eliminated."
She should be angry at his high-handedness. Should protest his controlling behavior.
Instead, she found herself asking, "Are you really that worried?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No equivocation.
"Everyone will know you think I'm important now," she said quietly. "The family. The staff. Everyone will see—"
"You are important." His thumbs stroked her cheeks. "You're—"
He stopped himself, jaw clenching.
"What?" she prompted softly.
"You're my wife," he said finally. "That makes you important to this family. To our image. To our legacy."
There it was. The qualifier. The distance.
Notyou're important to me.Justyou're important to the family.
She pulled away from his touch. "Right. The family image. Can't have a scandal."
"Nimisha—"
"I'll follow the security protocols," she said, returning to her laundry. "I have no desire to be kidnapped or worse."
He stood there for a moment, and she could feel his gaze on her back.
Then: "That's not what I meant."
"Yes, it is." She didn't turn around. "It's always what you mean. I'm an asset to be protected. A possession to guard. The family's reputation walking around in a saree."
"You're more than that."
Now she did turn. "Am I? Then what am I to you, Samarth? Specifically to you, not to the Ranawat family or the business or the image you project. What am I toyou?"
The silence stretched.
She'd asked this before. Never gotten an answer.
"That's what I thought," she said when he didn't respond. "The security can stay. I'll be a good girl and follow all the rules."
"Damn it, Nimisha—"
"Is there anything else? I have work to do."
He stared at her for a long moment, something conflicted warring in his expression.
Then he left without another word.
Nimisha waited until she heard his footsteps fade before sinking onto the bed, her hands shaking.
She'd pushed. Had demanded an answer she knew he couldn't give.
Because if he admitted she meant something beyond duty and obligation, it would crack the carefully constructed walls he lived behind.
And Samarth would rather die than show that kind of vulnerability.
