Page 91 of Drunk On Love

I looked at the space beside me on the couch. If I asked her to come to Mumbai, she’d say yes. She’d come. She’d stand by me. And I wasn’t sure which terrified me more—bringing her into the storm or wanting her there so badly it hurt.

____________

“Sir… Are you sure about this?” Justin’s voice carried a hint of disbelief through the phone.

“Yes,” I replied firmly.

“The buyers are offering ten times the asking price. The Cape House property in Beaufort has attracted interest from some of the wealthiest clients worldwide.”

“It’s not for sale,” I said, my tone leaving no room for debate. “Let Mr. Bellington know it’s off the market.”

“Understood, sir. Also, regarding the four-day event in Mumbai, all preparations are finalized. The first day is the cocktail party, the second is the gala dinner. You’ll need a plus one for the gala, sir.”

“No, I won’t,” I said curtly, disconnecting the call just as Kartik’s voice echoed from the lobby.

“Are you serious? Why on earth aren’t you taking Kiara to Mumbai?” Kartik strode into the living room, his steps purposeful as he headed for the liquor cabinet. “You need her there, Manav. She could—”

“Don’t start,” I cut him off. I poured myself a drink. “This isn’t about her.”

“That’s exactly the problem—you’re pretending it’s not about her,” Kartik shot back, grabbing a glass for himself. “You’re so busy protecting her that you haven’t even asked her if she wants to be there. Maybe she does.”

I exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. I knew Kartik was right, but that didn’t make the decision any easier. “It’s not her fight.”

“Maybe not,” Kartik said, leaning against the counter. “But you’re going to push her away if you keep acting like she doesn’t belong in it. And let’s be honest—she’s already in it, Manav. Maybe it’s time you stopped pretendingotherwise.”

My fists clenched, but I kept my composure. “Kiara isn’t a pawn in some business game. I’m not dragging her into this circus.”

Kartik sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration before slamming the folder on the table. “Here. The damn files.”

I didn’t respond. Kartik stood up, patting me on the shoulder. “Think about it before it’s too late.” With that, he walked out, leaving me alone with his thoughts—and a decision I couldn’t avoid forever.

I picked up my glass of whiskey and sat on the couch, closing my eyes. The phone buzzed on the coffee table. Without thinking, I picked it up, expecting another work notification. Instead, it was a message from Kiara.

Kiara:Guess who just got nominated for Bestseller of the Year?

A photo of her grinning face accompanied the message, her excitement radiating through the screen.

My lips curved into a faint smile, but the reminder of her leaving hit like a punch to the gut. She was already halfway out the door, and I haven’t done a damn thing to stop it.

I opened the chat, typing a response. Instead, I stared at her photo, her joy infectious even through the screen.

22 ♥?Kiara

“Block her…” Dadi said with determination as we lay side by side on her bed.

“What…?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s your sister! And it’s just Instagram, Dadi. You don’t need to take it seriously.”

“She’s mynosysister,” Dadi retorted with a cute pout, holding her iPad like a weapon of mass destruction. “And I have every right to block her after she had stolen my coat.”

“Dadi… that was seventy-five years ago. She stole your coat when you were both fifteen,” I reminded her, trying not to burst out laughing again as she dramatically waved her hand in faux anger.

“Whatever.” She dismissed me with a flick of her wrist, then squinted at the screen. “Now, show me that boyfriend of yours again. The one who looks like a Hollywood star. What’s his name? And what did you say he does? Real estate manager?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if she were interrogating me.

“Manav Oberoi,” I corrected her with a sigh. “And he’s a businessman, Dadi.”

“Hmm… When am I going to meet him?” She set aside her poor iPad, which looked like it had just been through a war.

“He will come to your birthday dinner,” I said, trying to sound casual while silently praying Manav wouldn’t spontaneously combust under her scrutiny.