Page 38 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

“Email me the presentation,” he said curtly. “I’ll go over it tonight and get back to you by morning.”

He ended the call with a sigh and rolled his neck to ease the tension.

The house was unusually quiet. Mahika should’ve been back from the spa by now.

His mind went back to their phone call that afternoon.

As expected, it had been all sass and zero substance.

Loosening his tie, he walked into his bedroom, half-expecting to find her pretending to be asleep just to avoid him.

Instead, it was empty. The sound of the water running behind the bathroom door told him she was still in there.

He walked over to the side console and tugged off his cufflinks, his eyes landing briefly on the bunny curled up on the floor, snoring like he actually paid rent. Shaking his head, he moved to the wardrobe, unbuttoning his shirt as he pulled the door open… and froze.

What the—

He blinked. Closed the door. Opened it again. As if it would change the inside of the wardrobe in two seconds. Nope. It was still the same. His collection of black, navy, and charcoal suits had disappeared. Instead, shirts and suits in every pastel shade now hung there in a neat line.

Bloody. Hell.

Pastel red. Lavender. Lilac. Mint. Powder blue. It looked like a unicorn had thrown up in his wardrobe.

“What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like a man who already knew who the culprit was.

“Evening, husband,” came Mahika’s voice, sweet, smug, and sinful.

He turned around to ask her what the fuck was this… and lost the ability to form a single coherent thought.

Mahika leaned against the bathroom doorway, all bare legs and damp hair, wrapped in a satin nightie that clung to her curves like a second skin.

She looked like a sexy siren. Her skin glowed.

Her expression was full of mischief. And the look in her eyes said it all.

It was like her gaze was screaming, ‘I dare you to yell at me.’

For a second, he forgot his anger. Forgot his name, too.

He shut his eyes and drew in a slow breath. “Momo.”

“Yes?”

“Where are my shirts and suits?” he croaked out.

“In the wardrobe,” she replied with an eye roll, as if he were the clueless one. “Just not… yours.”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t be a brat, Momo. Try again.”

“They’re safe, Grizz.” She stepped forward, her hips swaying like a challenge. “Just... temporarily relocated.”

His eyes narrowed. “You replaced every shirt and suit I own with those pastel crap.”

“You’re welcome!” she chirped in a sugary voice.

“Why? And why the fuck is there a lilac three-piece suit in there?”

She lit up like a Christmas tree. “To brighten your mood, obviously. I want you to wear colourful clothes!” She clapped her hands like a delighted child. “That lilac suit is your outfit for the day after tomorrow.”

He deadpanned. “For what, your funeral?”

“Our wedding reception,” she said sweetly, plucking the lilac blazer from its hanger and holding it up like a trophy. “I may have called the event planner. We discussed… and changed the theme. It’s floral now. The planner approves, and now our outfits are colour-coordinated. We match, Grizz.”

He stared at the blazers in the closet. Then at her legs. Then, damn it… at her chest. Big mistake.

He sucked in a breath and dragged his gaze back up like it was the hardest thing in the world. Covering his mouth with his fist, he forced himself to focus on the argument, not the sinful distraction standing inches away from him.

“You actually expect me to show up in front of our guests looking like an overpriced macaron?”

She closed the gap between them, slow and smug, until her body brushed against his. Soft curves teased hard muscle, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Then, with graceful ease, she reached up and brushed her fingers across his forehead, smoothing the furrow between his brows.

She leaned in deliberately, her lips dangerously close.

“I expect you to walk in looking like a man confident enough to match his wife’s purple gown. Which, by the way, is strapless. And custom-made. So yeah, you’re the accessory here, mister.”

His brows shot up, and in one swift step, he closed the last inch between them, pressing her flush against him, chest to chest, heat to heat. “You’re being a brat.”

“So?”

“You think being a brat is cute?”

“Only when it gets under your skin like this.” She bit on her lower lip.

He gritted his teeth. “You’ve got a death wish.”

“Please. I married you. That’s practically legal suicide.”

He stepped even closer, effectively trapping her between him and the wardrobe.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “You know what I really want to do right now?”

Her breath hitched, just for a second. But then, her chin tilted higher. “Burn all the pastels and run crying to your designer?”

He dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Bend you over this counter and make you regret that smart mouth.”

“Tempting,” she whispered, her voice betraying a faint tremor.

He froze for a beat, his lips still near her ear. Her breath was uneven, just enough to make his restraint feel like a punishment to himself.

“Tempting?” he echoed, his voice like gravel.

He could have had her right there. Bent over, gasping his name, clawing at the edge of control. But not now. Very soon… but not now.

He stepped back, his jaw clenched tight. “We’re not doing this, Momo,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge now. “And I am not wearing bloody lilac at our reception.”

She crossed her arms under her chest, the little motion pushing her ample breasts higher, which only made his concentration slip even further.

“You are, Grizz…” she said sweetly, “or I’ll skip the reception altogether. Let’s see how your social circle handles the gossip when the bride ghosts her own wedding party.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

She tilted her head back, locking eyes with him, and swayed forward just enough for her lips to brush the sharp line of his jaw. Then, slowly, deliberately, she trailed them down his throat and whispered. “Try me.”

Vikram’s entire body went rigid at the physical contact.

Every muscle tightened, as a wave of heat flared through him like a fuse catching fire.

His jaw clenched hard, and his fists balled at his sides.

Fuck. For a heartbeat, he didn’t breathe.

Because if he did, he’d haul her close and lose himself in her completely, forgetting every damn argument that sparked between them.

He swallowed back a growl as her scent, a heady mix of coffee and something floral, clouded his mind like a drug. The skin where her lips had grazed still burned, setting his body on fire.

She took a step back, her smirk wicked as sin, fully aware of what she had done. Slowly, she circled him and made her way towards the bed, like a queen reclaiming her throne. He didn’t follow. He stood motionless like a statue, grappling with his jumbled thoughts, torn between logic and desire.

He noticed her graceful and measured movements as she climbed onto the bed and crawled forward. Slowly. Confidently. His breath stuttered as the fabric of her nightie slid higher, baring smooth skin that sent a shot of lust through his veins, his body hardening instantly.

He inhaled sharply. Held it. Exhaled through his nose.

Once. Twice. Again.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes locked with his, fully confident in the victory she’d claimed without lifting a finger. She rubbed the damn lotion into her skin, while he still stood there like a statue.

“Good night, Grizz. Sleep tight,” she purred, her voice a velvet tease.

He said nothing. He couldn’t. Instead, he raked a hand through his hair, his jaw flexing as he fought for composure.

Because right now, sleep was the last damn thing on his mind.

His gaze swept over the explosion of pastels in his wardrobe, then back to the woman who moved through his world like wildfire, burning through every wall he’d ever built.

In these, two facts stood out starkly.

One, he needed a drink.

And second, one year with Mahika wasn’t just going to test his control; it was going to break it. And when it did, he wasn’t sure what would be left of him. Because he wasn’t just skirting the edge, he was one breath away from falling off it.

And it had only been two months till now.

∞∞∞

“How did you get him to wear that?”

Standing under the golden fairy lights, Ishika’s voice held both curiosity and disbelief as she spoke to Mahika.

Fairy lights twinkled above, casting a romantic shimmer, softening the night around the courtyard.

They stood next to the outdoor bar, drinking champagne, their heels sinking slightly into the neatly trimmed grass.

A smile touched Mahika’s lips, and her voice was smug as she lifted her glass again.

“I told him if he didn’t, I’d sit this reception out.”

“No shit?” Ishika choked on a laugh.

Mahika smiled politely as a woman glided past them in a deep emerald silk saree. “No shit.”

Two hours earlier, they’d arrived at Galaxy Greens, a luxury venue owned by the JK Group.

It was strategically perched on a hillside that overlooked the valley, now hazy and bathed in twilight.

Just beyond, the dusky hills glittered like a vision to behold.

An early summer breeze carried a crisp chill that nipped at the bare skin exposed by her strapless gown.

She’d fallen in love with the dress the moment she tried it on.

It made her feel like royalty. Even now, the whisper-soft silk clung to her like a secret, each gust of wind heightening her awareness of the curves beneath its delicate touch.