Page 87 of Addiction

“If I clear it with her and realize that she actually loves me, then I won’t be able to let her go. What if I can’t protect her? Bringing her into my life is too damn risky for her right now.”

“Shouldn’t that be her choice as well? I believe she fought those men for you, with you, fearlessly. That man Karl possibly knows that she is important to you. What if Ivan also knows? What if he uses her to get to you?”

“That is why I need to stay away from her. If they don’t see me with her for a while, they will understand that we aren’t together. She will never be targeted ever.”

“Fuck, you’re an idiot.”

Ignoring the jibe, Armaan asked, “Is someone watching over her?”

“Her brother has put security around the family. Also, I have put someone to follow her around as well, discreetly, of course. Someone who even our security doesn’t know.”

“Why?”

“I’m just finding it hard to trust anyone right now,” Mihir said.

“Good, I want her safe always.”

Mihir looked at him. “You need to talk to her. I believe she’s been coming to the house daily, and you have instructed the security to send her away.”

He didn’t want to talk about Navya. It was too bloody painful.

“I want to go visit Vedant,” Armaan deflected. “Although he is getting better, I need to see for myself that he is alright. Besides, we need to update him on what happened to me too. Maybe he can shed more light on everything now that he is fully conscious. Hopefully, he remembers some details from that attack on him.”

Now that he was back on his feet and able to move about, Armaan had been itching to go meet his brother. His heartwould settle only once he saw with his own eyes that Vedant was fine and completely out of danger.

Mihir nodded. “Alright. Let’s go tonight, but we keep this private between us. I’ll organize the jet, and we’ll inform our home staff and security of the plan only at the last minute.”

“Agreed,” Armaan said.

That night, as he sat in his plane, he finally looked at his phone. There were dozens of missed calls, voice notes, and messages from Navya, begging him to listen to her. God, this separation from her was pure torture. How he ached to hold her close and breathe her in. His brother was right; he wouldn’t have any peace until he talked to her. But right now, her safety was of the top most priority. It was more important than his own feelings.

He hardened his heart. He had to keep her away from him. Even if that meant he’d have to let her go, he would do it. Eventually, she would stop calling and texting him. She would hate him for not responding to her and thus move on. And even though it killed him, he would continue to ignore her and make her believe the worst of him. Her safety came first. While he wasn’t certain of what she felt for him,shewould come first for him, always.

26

It was early morning when they entered the gates of their London home. Leaving the car at the portico with Vasily and the rest of their security team, Armaan rushed up the stairs, his heart pounding. Mihir followed. This urge to check on Vedant and ensure he was fine had gotten stronger with every passing second as they drew closer to his brother.

Both of them exhaled a sigh of relief when they entered the room and found Vedant fast asleep on a care bed. This room had been specially converted into a hospital room. Vedant was sleeping on his back, his one hand connected to an IV drip. A monitor on his right beeped, displaying his vitals. His right leg was in a cast and, his torso and face were splattered with a criss-cross of purplish-blue bruises. His chest was heavily bandaged. Armaan’s feet faltered. Agony constricted his heart. Fuck. Ivan’s men had managed to hurt Vedant badly.

His eyes blurred. He wiped the tears with the back of his hand. From beside him, Mihir pressed a fist to his mouth, struggling to control his emotions.

“You fuckers! Stop looking at me like I’m dead,” Vedant said in Russian, his voice hoarse.

“Oh God!” Armaan rushed to him, Mihir following close.

“How are you?” Mihir asked. “Do you feel better?”

“No better than when we spoke last,” Vedant replied. “When was that? Yesterday? Today? I’ve lost track of time. I’ve been sleeping a lot.”

“That’s good,” Armaan sighed, studying him again.

“Why do you look like shit?” Vedant queried, assessing Armaan and the bruises marring his face. His eyes widened in understanding, and he jolted upright. He flinched, his right hand pressing against his chest. His face paled, and he shut his eyes, clearly in a lot of discomfort.

Armaan helped him down. “No, don’t get up.”

“Do you want something?” Mihir asked. “Should I call the doctor?”

“Please, she’s the last thing I need,” Vedant grumbled. “She’ll just increase the dosage of my painkillers and sedate me again. I hate not being in control and these medications make me feel woozy in the head.”

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