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“I’m shocked because, for the first time, I’m living in a moment where Vishnu Walia is showering all his care and attention on me. Only me.”

His hands slow their ministrations on my forehead as his eyes meet mine, dark and intense. I can’t stop the words that tumble out next.

“I have always seen you protecting others... caring for Meher, taking care of your father. But until now, there was never a moment where you showed that same care and concern just for me. This… this is new to me.” I swallow hard, gathering my courage. “And to be honest, I’m not just shocked... I’m scared... very scared.”

“Scared of what?” His voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine.

I take a slow, shaky breath before answering, our gazes locked in an intense connection. “I’m scared to give in... Give in to this feeling that has sparked between us again.”

The surprise on his face at my confession is evident, though he tries to hide it. That’s always been our dynamic—me, wearing my heart on my sleeve, openly telling him exactly what I feel for him, while Vishnu pretends to be oblivious, as if ignoring it would make it any less real. And today is no different.

For a long moment, he just stares, as if absorbing my confession, trying to make sense of it. He then silently kneels at my feet to tend to the injuries on my thigh and knee. My breath catches as he pushes aside the torn slit of my dress, revealing the small cut on my left thigh that needs attention. I’m acutely aware of every movement between us.

I flinch slightly as he carefully unwraps the scarf he’d tied around my thigh, exposing the tender skin beneath it. His response is immediate—his thumb gently strokes the area just above the bruise, a little away from the cut. The brush of his hand against my inner thigh sends a jolt through me so intense that I struggle to keep my breathing in check. I can hear the desperate hiss of his own unsteady breath as he tries to control himself before pressing the cotton gently against the wound.

I wince again, and this time, he leans closer, blowing soft air against my skin. The sight of him kneeling before me, his face so close to my inner thigh, his fingers stroking the smooth flesh to ease my pain—it’s almost too much. Memories of our only night together floods my mind, and though this touch is meant to be purely clinical, my body responds just the same.

My breaths come in shallow gasps, the intimacy of his touch reminding me of those raw, unfiltered moments of that night—the night I’ve tried so hard to bury. The sensation is maddening, so familiar yet so foreign. He gently dabs the cut, each touch stirring something in me I don’t want to name.

Almost of their own accord, my fingers slide into his hair at his nape. I’ve always loved how he keeps it slightly longer than most men. I tug at those strands, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control over my racing hormones. I’m holding onto the last remnants of my self-control. My heart pounds in my chest, my breaths coming in ragged bursts.

I watch as his jaw clenches, his own struggle for control evident as he continues cleaning my wound with gentle strokes. I can’t help but grip his hair tighter—it’s always been my weakness, holding onto him like this.

Just when I think he is going to push me away, reminding me of the distance he wants to keep between us because of my deceit, Vishnu does the unexpected. His other hand shifts to my right thigh, squeezing gently, just enough to let me know he’s losing his own battle for control. A soft moan escapes my lips before I can suppress it, my eyes fluttering shut as he continues to massage my right thigh. His palm is rough, creating the perfect friction that makes me feel more desired than ever, while his other hand tends to the bruise on my left thigh.

His breathing has grown ragged, matching my own, and I can tell his hands are no longer fully under his control. We’re both caught up in this moment, teetering on the edge of something dangerous and beautiful, neither of us quite ready to pull away.

In a fraction of a second, before I can even open my eyes, I feel the pull of Vishnu’s hand on my right leg. He lifts it over his left shoulder, his lips immediately finding my knee. All my control shatters in that instant. My eyes shoot open, a loud moan filling the space between us as his lips press against my skin.

The cotton slips from his hand, forgotten, as his mouth finds the inner thigh of my right leg—the uninjured one—and begins licking the sensitive flesh with a familiar madness. The passion matches that night we spent together: wild, all-consuming, and desperate. I grab his head, trying to guide him where I need him the most, but Vishnu has other plans. He pushes me back suddenly, and I fall onto the bed, his body hovering over mine.

The weight of his body feels achingly familiar, so right that I instantly pull him closer, unwilling to let this moment end. His mouth crashes against mine in a desperate kiss, all tongue and heat as we explore every corner of each other’s mouths. Everything else fades away. It’s just me and him.Us. His kiss is fierce, like he’s claiming everything that he’s kept at a distance for so long. I rub against him, needing that friction to ease my aching core. Vishnu doesn’t hesitate. His hand moves lower, without breaking our kiss, to take care of my need without a word.

Just as his fingers stroke the wet spot on my panties, a low moan escapes me, and Vishnu freezes. Reality crashes back in like a bucket of cold water.

I open my eyes to meet his, and the hunger I see in his gaze mirrors my own. It’s maddening to stop here, like this, when I’m so vulnerable that I could literally beg him to continue. I can see the same desperate desire reflected in his eyes, but this man was never easy. The moment he remembers the barriers between us, the past issues that have kept us apart, he immediately pulls away.

He gets off the bed while I lie there, waiting, hoping against hope that he’ll change his mind. I can’t believe how much I need him, that I’m willing to cross that line again, consequences be damned.

Vishnu gazes at me, something like shock flickering across his features, as if he can’t quite believe what just happened. He stands there, staring, as if he’s fighting some internal battle, and with one last conflicted look, he turns and walks out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

He’s gone.

I remain on the bed, my body still humming with unfulfilled desire, my heart aching with the knowledge that no matter how much we want each other, some walls seem impossible to break down. I close my eyes, knowing deep down that he’s the one man I may never be able to resist, no matter how hard I try. The ghost of his touch lingers on my skin, a cruel reminder of what we could have—if only the past would let us go.

CHAPTER 16

VISHNU

Next Morning

I stare at the security footage playing on the laptop screen, but my mind refuses to focus. Sleep had eluded me last night, and it wasn’t just because we’d failed to catch the masked man. Despite my team’s relentless efforts and the constant coordination with local police, the perpetrator seemed to have vanished into thin air after the chase. And the fact that he’s still out there, lurking in the shadows, is worrying. But it’s not the professional failure that keeps replaying in my mind.

It’s her. Simran.

My fingers unconsciously trace the rim of my fourth cup of coffee this morning as memories of yesterday flood back into my mind. Just the thought of her bruised and vulnerable was enough to rattle any semblance of calm I thought I had. She looked so small and vulnerable in my arms, trembling slightly as I cleaned her wounds, her breath catching when I touched her... I’ve never shown this level of care and tenderness to anyone outside the Walia family before. She was right about that.

A rueful smile tugs at my lips as I acknowledge the truth I’ve been fighting for so long. Simran has always held a special place in my heart from the very beginning. That night we spent together, when she not only shared my grief but also gave herself to me completely, changed something deep within me. I might not have openly realised or accepted it then, but whenever she’s in danger—like when she left her boutique without security the other day—I feel the same gut-wrenching fear that I experience when the Walia family is threatened. It’s as if my own life hangs in the balance. That’s how important she’s become to me. And it’s not just because we have a son now. No. This connection runs deeper than that, though I took my time accepting this truth.