Page 11 of Fixation

Reina ignored her. Her eyes fell on the magazine still clasped in her hand. Silent lady killer? She really didn’t need to know that.

She focused on the article in the magazine. It shared a glimpse into him and what he did for a living. She already knew that O-Corp had three major arms in diamonds, energy, and oilwells. What she hadn’t known was that Vedant single-handedly ran O-Oil. The article revealed him to be a sharp, intelligent, and shrewd businessman, who won every contract he wanted. He was now working on laying a new oil pipeline from Russia to Eastern Europe, further strengthening their business in the European markets.

The magazine mentioned that his late father, Alexander Oshnov, had handed him the reins of O-Oil a couple of years ago, and thanks to Vedant, O-Oil continued to remain a world-renowned name in the oil and gas sector. Presidents, prime ministers, and state heads of various countries came to him for the use of his oil resources.

Her head swam with all this information. Vedant Oshnov was a powerful man in his own right. The article also mentioned how his wealth, keen intelligence, and striking looks were amajor draw for women. He attracted them by the dozens, but was very specific in whom he dated.

Her eyes ran over his face—wheatish gold skin, perfectly spiked hair over a wide forehead, dark, dreamy eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a jaw that could cut through glass. Added to that were those sexy rectangular Tom Ford specs on his nose. His perfectly tailored suit highlighted his strong shoulders, broad chest, and narrow waist. She exhaled a heavy breath. Vedant Oshnov oozed sex appeal and charisma. Gorgeous men like him never stayed long term—they only offered steamy hot nights followed by endless heartache. His awful personality certainly proved that point.

Despite knowing that, the swarm of butterflies hellbent on attacking her belly did not stop. She stood. Enough with the nonsense. She was going for a swim. There had been a time in the past when she swam daily. Unfortunately, med school and work had taken up most of her time in the past few years. Now that she finally had some time on hand, it was better she fell into a pattern here. Surely, that would take her mind off her way too handsome patient and focus on herself.

Wouldn’t it?

4

There was something wrong with Armaan, Vedant was certain of it. Last morning, Tyrion had called his brothers through his cell phone. Vedant had spoken to them and they had been so excited to hear his voice. But Armaan hadn’t sounded himself; it seemed like he was unwell. However, both his brothers had assured him that all was well.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. The clear indication of something being off was that on the morning after Vedant’s attack, only Mihir had flown down from Dubai to check on him, and while then he hadn’t been conscious a whole lot, he did remember that Armaan was missing. And Armaan would never do that. He’d have moved heaven and earth to reach Vedant, and the fact that he hadn’t meant that something was wrong. Also, Tyrion had informed him that Mihir had immediately returned to Dubai after settling Vedant at home. Mihir returning mere hours after landing in London again indicated that something wasn’t right.

Worry settled in the pit of his stomach. He released a heavy breath. Probably it was nothing. He was probably over analysing the situation because he was unwell.

He looked out the large window of his room. It was early in the morning. After finishing his breakfast, he’d requested the intern, Stefan, to move his bed closer to the window so he could take in some fresh air and enjoy the fabulous view that his London home had. Stefan was very young, very eager to please, full of life, and very chatty. Through him, he had learned how his four-member medical care team took shifts to be with Vedant so that he was never alone. Mihir had brought an entire medical team here to keep him safe. His brother was, quite simply, unbelievable.

He inhaled and exhaled, breathing in the cool morning air. The view from this house always stirred him. While Vedant loved their Moscow home and their beach front Dubai house, this home was truly special. The vast forests, the rolling green meadows, the stunning blue lake—all of it was spectacular. He loved to walk these grounds and looked forward to doing that again, hopefully soon.

Right now, pumped with painkillers and antibiotics, he felt… Well, he was alright. But when their effect lessened, the pain was an absolute bitch to deal with. He was paying the price of his own stupidity, and it angered him so much.

Tyrion entered, greeting him warmly in Russian.

Vedant gave him a nod. “How’s everything?”

“All good, Sir,” Tyrion replied. “I just came to check on you.”

“I’m fine, well as fine as I can be,” Vedant replied. Something came to his mind. “Do you know where my ring is? Did Mihir give it to you?”

“No, but I’ll find out,” Tyrion said. “Also, Sir, a Ms. Svensson has been calling your phone regularly.”

Vedant frowned. Anita must be calling because of that oil deal they were working on together. “Please, can you get my phone? I must have hundreds of missed emails and messages. And my glasses as well. I need those too.”

If he wasn’t allowed to discuss work or anything related to his attack, at least he could use his phone to get back into the thick of things. And he needed his specs to read. His far vision was perfect, and hence, he’d gotten a progressive lens so he could see in the distance and read at the same time without the constant irritation of taking off and wearing his specs continuously.

With a quick nod, Tyrion left the room. Vedant refocused outside the window on the precious view. A view, at one time, he’d never even imagined he’d ever see. Memories raced through his mind—of years spent at the orphanage in Rishikesh, and of fighting to survive among the huge hoard of children. Life had been difficult. However, amidst all that violence, poverty, and chaos, Vedant had found a family—not related by blood, but connected by heart.

His only regret was all that had transpired with Karina. His chest hurt to even think of her. He and his brothers had all failed her. Thanks to their innocence and immaturity, they had lost her… their sister… Karina, the fourth one in their quartet. But a few months ago, they had found the man responsible for her disappearance—Dorab, their one-time orphanage mate.

Karina… He missed her so much. Fourteen years had passed. Fourteen long years, in which the brothers had thought that she had left them and run away to find happiness with Dorab. She’d even left them a vague letter, requesting them to never look for her and that she wasn’t returning. They had tried for weeks to locate her, but it had all been a futile exercise. In the end, it had also been the reason that the three of them had readily left India and moved to Russia. But now, they finally had some answers through that bastard Dorab. They’d managed to lure him to London and held him captive.

However, even under the threat of death, Dorab had only told them that Karina had run away from him. All those years back, the fucker had overheard their plans to move to Russiaand enticed Karina to go to Delhi with him, where he’d tried to sell her to some local goon he’d started working for. Once she’d understood the situation, Karina had apparently injured the two of them with a knife and run away. Dorab refused to name that man, whom he still worked for. Thus, in order to find her, they had let him go, but they were discreetly keeping an eye on his movements, hoping that he would lead them to her.

At least they had hope now, and this hope meant everything. They would find her. Their circle would be complete again. He would ensure it. Starting today, he’d focus his energy on finding her, once he got his phone, that is.

Tyrion entered the room, handing him his glasses and the newspaper. Vedant placed them on his nose and began to read the paper. But a few minutes later, even that felt tiring. Dropping his glasses to the side, he shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, the clock on the wall showed that four hours had passed. Fuck. He was always sleeping. He hated feeling so helpless like this. He noticed that, once again, the bed was back in position in the centre of the room.

He looked to the side, and Dr. Singh was sitting in a chair reading a book. As if sensing he was awake, she looked at him and stood up. Immediately, the air around him tensed by a few degrees.

“How are you feeling?” She came closer to him and pressed the bell by his bedside.

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