Page 79

“And what exactly is this meeting about?” I press, not liking where this is going.

She sighs, clearly annoyed.

“Zane’s been a huge help. He’s been giving me valuable insights into New York’s fashion trends and consumer behaviour. His expertise is really making a difference to my business here. And seriously, stop being so territorial.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Thank goodness you’re not coming with me—I don’t need a repeat of what happened with Peter.”

Her teasing jab gets under my skin, but before I can respond, she glances at my chest and smirks.

“Have you given all your shirts for laundry? Why is it that I’ve only seen you shirtless since morning?” she quips, raising an eyebrow.

I smirk, feeling my mood lighten despite my concerns. But Simran is not done though.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she adds with a teasing lilt to her voice, “but my eyes aren’t used to handling this much hotness in a single day.”

Her words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“So, if walking around shirtless is your new style statement, then I’ll need some time to get used to it,” she adds before turning away, a teasing blush creeping up her cheeks as she heads out the door.

I stand there, stunned by this glimpse of the Simran I used to know in Mumbai. It seems last night’s emotional release—her confession and apology—has freed her from the guilt she’s been carrying for long. She’s finally returning to her old self, and despite everything, I’m happy to see her like this. My eyes follow her path outside. This is the Simran I remember—the bold, confident, and cheeky woman who never held back. I’m also impressed by her resilience. Despite the threats, she refuses to give up and is continuing with her work and building her business. Not that I’m taking any chances. I’ve made sure the hotel where she’s meeting Zane is secured, and the guards will ensure that no one but him gets near her tonight. But the thought of her dining with another man—someone she calls a ‘friend’—leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Just then, Abhay walks in.

“How are you allowing this meeting to happen?” he asks in disbelief.

I frown, wiping the sweat off my face with the towel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitates, glancing away for a moment, instantly setting off warning bells in my head.

“Oh, I thought Simran must have told you already,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that makes my muscles tense.

“Told me what?”

Abhay crosses his arms.

“Well, you know we’ve been vetting every client she meets, just as you instructed. During one of the sessions with Simran about this Zane Miller...” Abhay pauses, his expression suddenly unreadable. “She casually mentioned that Zane had proposed to her a few months ago. When she was already a single mother.”

“Excuse me?” My tone is cold, the words coming out like chips of ice.

“Yeah, that’s what she told me. “Abhay shrugs, oblivious to my reaction. “She turned him down, obviously, but… I thought you should know.”

Rage simmers beneath my skin, and I clench my jaw to hold it back. Simran, meeting with a guy who once proposed to her? This isn’t just a work dinner. This is personal.

“Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll be there with her. She’s safe.”

I barely register him leaving after Simran. My jaw is clenched so tight it hurts. This information about Zane changes everything. A business dinner with a former suitor? Someone who wanted to marry her when she was raising my son alone? The thought of him sitting across from her, admiring how she looks in that dress, perhaps still harbouring those feelings for her... It makes my blood boil.

Simran’s laughter echoes from the hallway, soft and unintentional, as she speaks to Zane on the phone, letting him know that she’s leaving for dinner now. Just hearing her talk to Zane in such a familiar manner grates on my nerves. She has no idea how much it’s affecting me—what seeing her dressed up for someone else is doing to me.

My fist connects with the punching bag before I even realise I’ve moved. This isn’t just about security anymore. This Zane Miller has suddenly become a much bigger problem than I anticipated. One that I need to deal with—and soon.

After everything that happened last night, we’re slowly finding our way back to each other. And there’s no way I am letting anyone interfere with that—especially not some New York businessman who once thought he could take my place in her life.

SIMRAN

I take in the elegant interior of Trattoria Venezia, one of New York’s most exclusive Italian restaurants. The soft glow of the chandeliers, the low hum of jazz music, and the scent of freshly baked focaccia fill the air. My heels click against the polished floor as I make my way to the reserved table. Vishnu’s endless warnings about security have seeped into my subconscious, and I find myself scanning the room, assessing every shadow and movement like a hawk. It’s ridiculous how much I’ve started thinking like him. I sigh and take my seat at a corner table, which is perfectly suited for both privacy and security. I brush the unease aside. Tonight is about business.

Abhay and his team settle at nearby tables, close enough to jump into action if needed, but far enough to give me space. I smooth down my dress, trying to focus on the business at hand rather than the constant undercurrent of anxiety that’s become my companion these days.

When Zane walks in, I can’t help but notice how well he carries himself in his tailored charcoal suit. His mixed heritage—American mother and Indian father—gives him striking features that effortlessly turn heads. He walks toward me with that familiar, confident stride, a smile spreading across his face.