Page 35 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

“Wedding reception? After two months of marriage? Who even does that? I thought we agreed this wasn’t the kind of wedding that needed a celebration. Galas, charity events, sure. But this? You could’ve disguised it as a fundraiser. Why even call it a wedding reception?”

“I’m flattered you’re counting the days, really,” he said, his tone edged with irritation. “But yes, we’re doing it. My PR team insisted. Something about public image and authenticity. Didn’t you check the calendar I sent this morning?”

A flush of annoyance rose in her chest. “No, Grizzly. I haven’t looked at your calendar.”

He smirked. “It’s not just mine. It’s ours, baby.”

She ignored the fluttery feeling when he called her ‘baby’ again, and pushed the whole calendar thing aside for now. “But what if I’m busy?”

“You’re not. And late or not, the reception is happening. It will be the perfect night for us to show up as a couple in our social circle.”

The thought of being thrust into the limelight made her fingers tremble.

She would be facing the town’s elite and the country’s most influential figures, as in the who’s who of Indian high society.

This event wasn’t some intimate affair. It was a carefully orchestrated spectacle, powered by the combined influence of two established dynasties: the Khuranas and the Jaykars.

Together, their names didn’t just open doors; they drew cameras, headlines, and endless gossip.

Of course, she’d already heard the rumours.

Through acquaintances, during overpriced brunches, in whispered calls.

People wondered if their marriage was even real.

They said it had happened too quietly, too formally.

No big wedding. No rituals. Just a private legal signing.

Basically, it gave everyone a free rein to pry and dissect something that was none of their business.

Dehradun was a small town, but it had the reach and influence that rivalled a big city. Everyone knew all about the Jaykars and the Khuranas. It was like she was always being watched, no matter how careful she was. Everyone was nosy, treating people’s lives like a reality TV show.

She breathed out slowly. Though she came from this world of privilege, she had never truly felt like she belonged. The glitter, the fake smiles, and the constant pressure to be perfect was so not her.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably. This wasn’t a celebration. This reception was a PR stunt dressed up in champagne and floral arrangements. It was a performance where Mahika had to be the showstopper.

“I’ll check my schedule,” she said stiffly.

Vikram chuckled, obviously thinking he’d cornered her. And maybe he had. As far as she knew, her entire future felt mapped out after marrying him.

“Spend the day with your friend, wifey. Relax. These last few weeks… hell, these last few months haven’t been easy. Take the time while you still can.”

“Why are you being so… so nice?” she asked suspiciously.

“I am always nice, Momo. You just have selective memory. Now, go and enjoy yourself, yeah?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the line went dead.

“Puhleasee. Please don’t tell me you’re going to refuse all this?” Ishika said, exasperated.

“Ishika,” Mahika warned.

“What? You think he’s playing games?”

“Exactly.”

“So what? We’ve got a spa and a salon to ourselves. Accept the pampering now. Make him regret it later.”

“To ourselves?” Mahika narrowed her eyes, incredulous.

“That’s what he said.”

“He can’t possibly shut down an entire spa for us on a Saturday. That too at one of his most popular resorts. That’s—”

“He’s Vikram Khurana. He can do whatever the hell he wants. And right now, he wants to make you happy, for whatever reason. So let him.”

The knock at the door kept Mahika from arguing further. Ishika answered the door to find a maid holding a large black box tied with a silver ribbon.

“This came for Mahika Bhabhi,” the girl said.

“Thank you. I will take it from here.” Ishika took the box and the girl left.

Mahika glared at it like it was a bad omen. “What is it now?”

“Go on, open it. I’m dying to see what’s inside.” Ishika bounced in her place.

Mahika hesitated. “What did he say to you today?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’re very Team Vikram right now.”

“What? That’s nuts! You know I’m always Team Mahika. Honestly, I just feel like you need a break, Mahi. These past few months have been rough, and with the marriage, the upcoming reception, and everything else on your plate, you deserve some time to just breathe.”

Unable to argue with that, Mahika pulled the ribbon. Silver tissue paper rustled as she reached in and pulled out a tiny silver bikini.

As it slipped into her hands, a folded piece of paper tumbled out. Frowning, she picked it up and unfolded it. Her eyes landed on the neat, unmistakable strokes of the bold handwriting.

Momo,

Thought this would suit you… Maybe I should have stayed and watched you try it on.

P.S. - Wear it to the spa. Don’t test me.

- V.K

Mahika’s blood boiled. Her cheeks flushed, not from embarrassment, but from pure anger. She crumpled the note in her fist, her nails digging into the paper. “That… impossible... infuriating... arrogant idiot! Who does he think he is? What is the point of sending this stupid outfit?”

“Wow, that’s bold.” Her friend raised a brow, clearly amused. “He wants you to relax in style.”

Mahika’s glare sharpened. “Relax? In this ?!”

“For the spa, babe.” Her friend grinned knowingly. “But you know it’s not just the spa. It’s the swim, steam, jacuzzi, and then the massage. You know the whole works.”

Mahika held it up, eyeing it sceptically. “What was he even thinking? I’m not exactly a size zero. I’ve got curves… actual boobs. Unless this thing comes with a built-in miracle, there’s no way it’s covering all this,” she pointed to her chest.

Ishika snorted. “I’m pretty sure he picked that bikini because he’s dying to see you in it.”

“He’s just messing with me,” Mahika grumbled. But then she held the bottoms and froze. Her cheeks flushed crimson. The bottom was barely more than a scraggly scrap of fabric, climbing daringly over her hips and leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

“Wait… is that it? That’s the whole thing?” she gasped.

She held it up like it might bite her. “This isn’t a bikini. It’s a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen!” She backed away as if it might leap onto her body uninvited. “There is no way in hell I’m stepping out in this. I’ve seen paper napkins with more dignity!”

“I guess that explains why he shut the spa for everyone else,” Ishika said thoughtfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mahika asked, narrowing her eyes.

“He won’t want anyone else seeing you in that.”

“You will,” Mahika fired back.

“Babe, I’ve seen you in all kinds of outfits. Trust me, I’m not the problem here,” Ishika said, rolling her eyes.

Mahika dropped the bikini on the bed like it had burned her hand. “That’s it? This big box for this pathetic scrap of a material?”

Ishika shoved her playfully. “Come on, suit up. Hours of pampering and indulgence are waiting for us.”

She seriously wanted to rip that scrap of fabric into pieces and send it back with an insulting note, but Ishika’s sheer excitement stopped her. Her best friend needed this break just as badly as she did.

With a resigned sigh, Mahika nodded. Fine. She’d try the damn thing.

Cursing under her breath, she snatched the swimsuit and stormed into the bathroom. To her surprise, it fit her perfectly. That alone raised more questions.

How the hell did Vikram know her body so well?

The top was surprisingly flattering, with a cut that seemed like it had been made for her. And the bottom... it was downright criminal.

Twisting to glance at her bare behind, Mahika sighed. She wasn’t shy about her body. She had curves, sure. Real womanly curves. But this thing left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“If anyone else is at that spa, I swear…” she muttered, pinning her hair into a bun and splashing cold water on her face.

She wiped her face with a napkin and stepped out.

“Holy fucking hell,” Ishika gasped, her eyes practically popping out of her head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mahika shrieked as Ishika held up her phone, grinning like she was about to snap a picture. “No, Ishi! Delete that right now!”

“Oh, whoopsie,” Ishika said with a not-so-innocent smile.

“What do you mean?” Mahika grabbed the phone, her cheeks flaming.

And there it was. A photo of her. Already sent. To Vikram.

Two blue ticks stared back at her. Yep… he’d seen it.

Blood drained from her face.

“Ishikaaa!!! I hope the cucumber slices on your eyes turn into jalapenos!” she hissed, thrusting the phone back, while the typing dots danced on the screen.

She didn’t want to know what he was saying. She didn’t want to hear his tone, that deep, gruff baritone dripping with charm and sarcasm. Her mind kept chanting this mantra as Ishika’s smile widened. Mahika knew that smile. It meant trouble. Damn it.

“What? What did he say?” Mahika demanded, narrowing her eyes.

Ishika blinked slowly, then looked at her with a dreamy smile. “Are you sure he hates you?”

Mahika froze. “What?”

Ishika waved the phone teasingly. “His exact words are, ‘Tell her that silver suits her. But not as much as the fire in her eyes.’”

Mahika blinked at the message, heat crawling up her neck. “The nerve of that man,” she muttered, turning away. “Who even talks like that?”

But the blush blooming on her cheeks betrayed her anger.

Ishika let out a snort. “Your dear husband, apparently.” She slipped her phone into her purse. “Come on, Mahika. Grab your bag. The spa awaits.”

Mahika sighed dramatically, pulled on her kaftan, threw her scarf over her shoulder, slipped into her sandals, and glumly followed her friend.

“Before we leave, I need to do something,” she said, her thumbs flying furiously over her phone screen.