Page 33 of Born in Sin (Phoenix #3)

Chapter Seventeen

VIRAT

Virat stared at the screen of his laptop, furiously making notations from the videos and images his team had sent him of the hospital fundraiser. If his eye tended to wander towards a flash of yellow, he only allowed himself a few seconds to wallow before wrenching his attention back to his task.

The doorbell chimed and his entire body stilled.

The people he was interested in seeing would not use his doorbell.

He grabbed the gun on the table beside him, uncocked the safety on it and made his way to the door.

What he saw through the peephole made him put the safety on the gun back on even as his brain screamed danger.

Virat swung the door open, allowing Cara to slip past him. He met her guard’s eyes and acknowledged the man’s silent greeting before shutting the door, shutting them in, alone in the quiet of his apartment.

They stared at each other, wordless moments that seemed to scream in the silence. She wore black leggings and a black hoodie, the top pulled over her head, so it concealed almost all of her features. He didn’t need to see her to know her. He always had.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” she said, pushing the hood back to reveal her tired face, scrubbed free of makeup. “I knew you wouldn’t like it but-“

“280689.” Virat moved to leave his gun on the dining table he’d been working at.

Cara stood motionless, wordless, her gaze darkening as she watched him.

“The door code,” he told her. “You don’t have to ring the bell.” The words ‘not to my home’ remained unsaid but echoed in the quiet space, nonetheless.

“My birthday,” she said, her hand going to her throat, clasping it as it worked through the emotion clogging it.

“Yes.” The simple acknowledgement had her blinking back tears.

“After all this time?”

Virat laughed softly, a mirthless sound. “Even after forever, Celi. Also,” he looked at her, the storms in his eyes churning. “There will never be a time when I don’t like you coming to me.”

Cara closed her eyes for a long moment, visibly working to get herself under control. When she didn’t say anything for a long moment, he forced himself to ask.

“Why are you here?”

“Your father was at the fundraiser,” she said softly. “I saw him.”

“I know.” Virat gestured to the living room so they could sit and talk. “He was on the guestlist. As was Amay’s father, Rakesh Aatre.”

Cara took a seat across from him, tucking her feet under her and making herself comfortable on the couch.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked formally, even as he struggled to keep from joining her on that couch and pulling her to him.

Cara shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you. Virat –“ She stopped, hesitating, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.

“What is it?” he asked, even as the ‘Virat’ sliced into him, leaving trails of blood. The days of being her Vir seemed to be over, a fact he’d have to accept.

“He doesn’t look well,” she said softly. “He looks like he is…”

“Dying?” Virat supplied. Cara flinched. “He is. He’s in the final stages of lung cancer. I believe the doctors have given him less than three months to live.”

He watched her digest that news, her soft heart seeming to struggle with it.

“Are you okay?” she asked, the soft, husky question arrowing straight to the heart that beat only for her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Virat shrugged, even as a weird emptiness opened up inside him.

“He’s your father.”

“He’s my sperm donor,” Virat corrected, the granite in his soul solidifying. “It means nothing.”

“Like your mother meant nothing?” she asked, sparks flaring in her eyes as her temper rose. “If she had lived, you could have found her now as an adult. Maybe even…”

“I did.”

Cara fell silent, absorbing the admission. “Your mother is alive?”

“No.” Virat shook his head. “But her elder sister is. She is married with three children, two boys and a girl. They live in the Central Lowlands of Scotland. They’re farmers, happy and settled. They,” he hesitated before adding. “Seem like nice people.”

Her eyes were wet with tears, happiness saturating her. “You found family.”

“I did but I don’t know how to mourn someone I never knew,” he admitted. “And I can’t mourn a man who abandoned me at every turn.”

“He’s dying,” she said again.

Virat exhaled. “Couldn’t come fast enough for me.”

“Virat!”

Her outrage was weak, knowing what she did of his past, of the neglect he’d faced at the hands of his father. It hadn’t been as bad as what Amay and Ishaan had gone through. He had been, at best, ignored. And what his friends had had to suffer had been worse.

Virat cleared his throat, ready to change the topic.

“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me? My team has been dumping the messages that are coming in on the burner phone. Are you worried Majid will escalate?”

“If he does, it’s only good for us. I want him on edge and off balance. Kabir invited them to the set tomorrow, with their families. They’ve accepted.”

“I heard.” Virat’s gaze caught hers and held. “That was a good move.”

“I didn’t come to talk about…” Her voice trailed off.

Virat nodded. He knew. She hadn’t come for plans of vengeance. She’d come for him. Because, his soft hearted Celi worried about him dealing with his asshole of a father’s impending death.

“Celi,” he said huskily. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“You’re right. I should leave you alone.” She shot to her feet. “I should go.”

His hand reached for her, an unconscious moment desperate with need. “No, I didn’t mean-“

“Kabir’s waiting for me,” she babbled, not paying attention to his words.

His hand dropped to his side, and he took a careful step back. “Thank you for coming,” he said formally. “I appreciate it.”

She rushed to the door, her head down. At the door, she paused, not looking at him.

“I’m happy for you, Vir,” she said, softly. “I’m happy you found your family. I’m happy that you’re loved. I’m happy that you’re happy.”

The door shut behind her a second later, leaving him alone. He wasn’t happy. How could he be when his happiness had just walked out of the door, without him?