Page 14 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

“I know enough already. I saw your girlfriend when you were in Dehradun. Jiya Kaul. Sounds familiar?”

He stared at her, wondering how the hell she remembered that annoying girl he hadn’t thought about in years. Was she really paying that much attention to him?

Instead of answering, he brushed it off and changed the subject as if it were nothing. “Where are the glasses?”

“They’re in the cupboard where they’re usually kept.” Mahika frowned at the shift in the topic but didn’t say a word.

Vikram cast a sceptical glance at the takeout containers cluttering the counter. “Somehow, I doubt anything here is where it should be.”

Mahika exhaled sharply. “Why are you even here?”

Ignoring her, he opened one cupboard, then another, and ultimately retrieved two glasses. He set them down and reached for the bottle. He was about to say something, but then he paused, his gaze fixed on her.

Her stomach flipped with a weird sensation as she followed his gaze, and it hit her.

Her cardigan had slipped down her shoulder, and her thin camisole did nothing to hide the hardened peaks of her nipples pressing against the flimsy fabric.

His eyes trailed downward, pausing at her bare feet, then slowly, so slowly, inched their way back up.

Mahika’s first thought was to grab the closest throw blanket and hide under it. However, her pride took over. She wanted to act like she didn’t care. So, she cocked a hip and stood her ground, daring him to look her in the eye again.

When his gaze finally met hers, she raised an eyebrow. “Finished checking me out?”

His eyes burned a dark fire that broke through his usually cold facade. Suddenly, she was hit with a sharp, unwanted feeling of desire.

Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. She was already losing the upper hand in whatever the hell this was between them.

Without another word, Vikram tore his eyes away and poured the nasty green stuff into a glass and slid it towards her. “Drink.”

Mahika scoffed. “No way I’m drinking that.”

“You are,” Vikram stated simply, his voice alarmingly cool. “Then take a shower and get dressed… because we’re getting married today.”

Mahika froze, her mind going completely blank.

What the actual fuck was he saying?

Her heart slammed against her ribs as the words sank in.

“You... you jerk! You’re full of shit! You said the wedding was tomorrow,” she screamed, her voice cracking with a mix of disbelief and anxiety.

“Did I really?” Vikram drawled, his tone torturously casual, as if they were discussing the weather. “Well, it happens to be today, sweetheart.”

She clenched her fists, swallowing the urge to slap the condescension right off him. “Don’t you dare call me sweetheart, you fucking prick. Is this a joke to you? How dare you change something this huge on a whim, when my life, my entire future is hanging on it?”

She panted heavily, her face flushed with anger, and her fists clenched tight. Vikram stepped closer, uncurling her fingers one by one with surprising gentleness, as if coaxing a category 5 hurricane into silence. But she yanked her hands back, refusing to let go of her anger.

“No, Momo, it’s not a joke.” His voice stayed calm, annoyingly firm, as if he were the only sane person in the room. “The decision was taken yesterday because today is more auspicious.”

“Oh really? Since when the hell do you give a damn about auspiciousness?” Her tone was laced with venom.

“Since my life’s been shackled to yours.”

“Ha. The big bad Vikram Khurana, scared of a few fucking stars? That’s rich. Well, guess what? Forget the stars, you’ve got my wrath to deal with now, you control freak jerk. You should’ve informed me earlier about the change of date.”

“I would have told you yesterday night, but you were too busy twirling around with a fucking stranger in an intoxicated state. So, pray tell me, how exactly was I supposed to break such important news to you at that time?”

Outrage flared in her eyes as her voice shot up. “I was not drunk!”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Vikram arched a brow, infuriatingly composed. “Because from what I saw, you were completely hammered.”

“Thank you for your expert analysis, but it doesn’t change one thing. I’m not marrying you today.”

“You are. Because if you refuse, I’ll tell Mr. Rao that you are backing out of this marriage. And then, bye-bye beloved beach house.”

His voice was commanding and there was no emotion in it, only a cruel calmness, as if marrying her was just another deal he had to close. He made it sound like her refusal would affect only her life and not his. And that hurt more than it should have.

How dare he use the beach house to bend her to his whims? It was a truth that was too bitter to swallow. And fool that she was, she had actually thought he might care about her.

She had expected something. Anger, frustration, anything that would prove he cared. But Vikram Khurana gave her nothing. He was cold, curt, impossible to read, and every bit the heartless man she had always thought him to be.

Or maybe she was being extra touchy because she was…

frustrated. Sexually frustrated. Her last boyfriend had been a walking red flag, and after he’d cheated on her, she hadn’t trusted herself to date again.

She’d gone two whole years without so much as a kiss!

If she’d known her so-called freedom would be snatched away so soon, she might have spent those years indulging in reckless abandon instead of caution.

She scowled at him, her anger simmering hotter than it should. “I’m pretty sure the clause we signed weeks ago said nothing about you yanking me out of bed, shoving toxic sludge down my throat, and barking orders like some… army sergeant.”

Vikram’s nostrils flared. He leaned forward, his voice dangerous and hushed. “Maybe you should’ve read the fine print. It said we act like a real couple. And real couples actually give a damn about each other.”

He slid the glass towards her, his eyes still on her. “Drink.”

Vikram didn’t bother to argue. He just grabbed his own glass and chugged the whole thing in one go.

Mahika’s eyes were instantly drawn to the way his throat moved as he swallowed, and before she could stop herself, her thoughts spiralled into what he’d look like without that stiff jacket, the crisp shirt, or the perfectly knotted tie—

She snapped herself out of it. Nope. Not going there.

“If you think I signed up to be your puppet for the next year, you’re dead wrong,” she retorted. “I’m not taking orders from anybody. Least of all you.”

She turned on her heel and stormed into her walk-in closet, muttering curses under her breath. Vikram could go to hell—along with his annoyingly sharp jaw and that infuriating judgmental gaze.

Discarding her cardigan, she strode off towards the bathroom. She had barely taken a breath in relief that she was alone when the bedroom door crashed open.

Vikram stood in the doorway with fire blazing in his eyes. His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, and tension rippled through every inch of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” She froze, suddenly way too aware of her skimpy outfit, and snapped, “You’re invading my privacy!”

Her voice shook with anger, but his silence spoke volumes. It was too controlled, and way too quiet for someone about to lose it.

His jaw clenched as he stepped closer, thrusting the green smoothie glass towards her. “I don’t give a fuck. Momo. Drink. It.”

She glared at him. “Fuck. You.”

His nostrils flared, his eyes going even darker.

“What’s wrong?” she taunted, raising an eyebrow. “Not used to hearing NO?”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes... anger? Maybe lust? But she ignored it.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she said icily.

“I didn’t agree to that ridiculous stuff in that dumb clause willingly.

If I had my way, I’d be on a plane to Australia, leaving everything behind.

I never wanted my dad’s money or his empire.

And I sure as hell don’t want anything from you.

But I will do what is required for the next year. ”

Her tone cut like glass, each word measured.

“In public, I’ll play my part. I’ll smile, hold your hand, and make people believe this is real by playing the perfect wife.

But behind closed doors, within the four walls of the house,” She met his gaze, unblinking, “we mean nothing to each other, Grizzly, just like always.”

He took a slow step towards her, his broad frame closing in on her space. Her walk-in closet was spacious, but with him in here, it suddenly felt suffocatingly small.

“It’s cute that you think that’s how this year is going to play out,” he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “Because faking it gets tricky when you’re busy screaming my name.”

“Trust me, if I ever moan your name, it’ll only be followed by a curse.” She balled her hands into fists, trying to ignore the charged tension in the air.

“One year is a long time to waste hating me,” he murmured, his voice almost coaxing.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she quipped, tilting her head. “I’ve done a pretty solid job so far.”

His free hand came up and braced on the wall beside her head as he leaned in, caging her in with his heat.

His scent was all spice, soap, and something undeniably him.

His gaze locked onto hers, and he didn’t let it drop even once.

Not to her lips, not to the bare skin of her shoulders, nowhere.

Either he’d had a momentary lapse in judgment when he checked her out earlier, or he was using every ounce of self-control he had right now.

Not that she’d mind a repeat of that scorching look.

Damn it. She needed to get a grip. This was Grizzly Khurana. Her own personal nemesis, not some broody, dark hero from her imagination.

“Get out,” she said. She intended to sound stern, but it came out all soft, almost like a plea.

A slow, knowing grin spread across his lips, the kind that made women swoon. And she resented every woman who’d ever fallen for it.

“Fine. Now, drink this and get ready. We’ve got a long day ahead. The wedding formalities, documents to sign, the board meeting, the whole deal.”

She crossed her arms. “And who exactly made you my boss?”

“The same man who’s making me your husband.”

Before she could even fire back, Vikram grabbed her hand, curling her fingers around the glass before stepping back.

“I am trying,” he repeated, with a softer tone this time. “Trying to be the man our fathers thought I could be. So, help me out, will you? Just drink it. Please. It’ll make you feel better.”

Mahika wrinkled her nose as she eyed the ominous green liquid.

It had a yucky, offensive smell that matched its appearance.

Lifting the glass, she studied it for a moment, as if seriously contemplating drinking it.

Just as the rim nearly touched her lips, she turned gracefully on her heel and walked out of the walk-in closet.

Vikram’s brows furrowed in confusion as he watched her.

She stopped by the window, where a tray held her small potted plants. Slowly, she tipped the glass, dumping all the green goo into the plant.

Vikram’s glare intensified.

Mahika put the glass down and dusted her palms together like it was no big deal.

“There. All the green goo has gone back to where it belonged. Cheers to the first day of the rest of our lives!” Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she turned and sauntered past him towards the bathroom and stopped to pat his cheek, as if he were a naughty child.

But just before she disappeared into the doorway, she cast one last look over her shoulder, like a final warning.

“And in case you need a reminder. I might be on my way to become Mrs. Khurana, but I will never, ever be yours, Grizzly.”

Silence hung in the air, heavy with tension.

For a fleeting moment, she believed she had won.

But then it came… a low laugh curling through the air like smoke.

It carried a wicked kind of humour and a tempting confidence.

Before her mind could catch up, Vikram was suddenly in front of her, moving with a grace that even rivalled a predator.

He stepped into her space and blocked her path, his presence looming over her.

“Too late for that,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. The air between them buzzed, and her breath hitched.

He stepped in real close, his breath warm on her face. Then, with excruciating slowness, his soft and warm lips, brushed her cheek, sending a shiver up her spine.

Then just as quickly, he pulled away, shooting her one last look before turning and walking out.

He left her standing there, breathless, her pulse a frantic drum against her ribs.

Her fists were clenched so tight that her nails dug into her skin, and after a beat, a silent wave of fury washed over her.

Because once again, he’d walked away with the last word, making her feel like a hormonal mess all over again.