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“He’s making me a cup of tea,” I said awkwardly.

She and Sufi turned to stare at him openmouthed.

“What’s the big deal?” I muttered. “It’s only a cup of tea.”

“Babe, I have never seen Mr C lift a finger in the kitchen at home. And now he’s suddenly pounding spices for masala chai. This is totally a photo op,” exclaimed Sufi, pulling out his phone.

“It’s private, Sufi,” I said softly, pushing his hand down.

I didn’t know why, but the fact that Viren was doing something so unlike him just for me felt very precious, and I wanted to hide it from the world.

“Let me do that, beta,” said Daya Bua, rushing to help him as if the world would end if the big, bad billionaire made some chai.

“You’re on holiday too, Daima. Go and sit down with the others,” he replied sternly.

She looked stunned as she joined us at the kitchen island. When the chai was ready, Viren poured it into mugs and brought it to us. He winked at me as he handed me my mug, and I blushed in response. It was just a cup of tea, I told myself sternly. There was no reason to blush like a schoolgirl.

I took a hasty sip of the steaming hot beverage and realised everyone was staring at me for my reaction.

“It’s great,” I said, blushing again, and Viren gave me a slow smile that set my heart pounding.

That man and his dimple were a menace to society. And yet, I couldn’t take my eyes off either.

“What a cosy little scene,” said Tahira coldly from the doorway, and it was as if someone had doused me with cold water.

“Would you like a cup of tea, beta?” asked Daya Bua politely.

“No, thank you. I’m here to steal Viren,” she said, looking directly at me. “For the rest of the evening, I mean.”

Oh, please. We all knew what the bitch meant. She was throwing down in public. I kept my face impassive and returned her stare calmly.

“I’m afraid I’m taken, Tahira,” replied Viren. “I’m spending the rest of the evening with my wife.”

Daima and Sufi gave him approving smiles, but Tahira looked furious before she forced a smile on her face.

“Are you guys doing anything interesting?”

“Sunaina’s feeling slightly under the weather after our little accident in the park, so I’m going to keep her in bed all night,” he said wickedly.

Daya Bua choked on her chai as Sufi covered Aisha’s ears. She couldn’t help giggling when Daya Bua shot Viren an admonishing look. Tahira, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to throw up.

“How dull,” she murmured. “Anyway, you know where to find me if you get bored.”

I wondered if I could get away with stabbing her with a kitchen knife. Probably not. So I bit my tongue and sipped on my chai.

I didn’t know why I was taking this so personally. I didn’t own Viren. He was free to spend time with the chudail if he wished to, but the way she went about staking her claim over him was disrespectful in the extreme. So what if she suspected our relationship was fake? It was still very rude of her to flirt with Viren so openly.

When he didn’t reply to her invitation, she slunk out of the room with a resentful glance at me.

“Come on, wifey. Drink up your chai and get into bed. I was serious about that part,” said Viren, and I almost dropped the mug in shock.

Wifey?

Who was this man, and what had he done with my stiff and formal husband who wouldn’t even touch me unless it was a matter of life and death?

CHAPTER 10

VIREN