Page 16 of Forged By Fate

“Umm,gorgeous…you didn’t raise us at all. And what’s wrong with Viren’s t-shirt? It’s his favourite band,” argued Sunaina.

“Yeah, and your ganji is lovely. Don’t listen to him,” I told her gruffly because it was. I didn’t recognise the colour because it was one of those complicated shades between green and blue, but it hugged her curves in all the right places.

Daima clapped her hand on her head and walked out of the room without a word.

“That was rude,” murmured Sunaina.

“Very,” I murmured back.

“If the two of you are done with this mutual and inexplicable back-rubbing, can we get back on the very important topic of your clothes?” asked Sufi snottily.

“Fine! I’ll change into a dress if that will please Your Majesty,” said Sunaina with a sigh.

“Good, and let’s go with a loose white shirt with shorts for you, Mr C,” ordered the tyrant.

Twenty minutes later, he marched us to the car, and we drove to Hyde Park. What followed was an hour of pure torture as Sufi forced us to pose for romantic pictures that were really not romantic at all.

“Okay, let’s get one pic of you feeding the ducks. Mr C, please stand next to her and smile adoringly,” he instructed like a drill sergeant.“Smile at your wife, not at the duck!”

I turned around to glare at him.

“Don’t make me push you into the lake, Sufi,” I growled.

Just then, something poked me in the ass. I turned around in surprise and found a goose glaring up at me.

“Can I help you?” I asked warily, and the little feathered bastard came at me aggressively in reply.

He stopped to spread his wings and shimmy his tiny butt in Sunaina’s direction before he charged at me again. I threw apiece of bread at him thinking he might be hungry, but it only made him angrier.

“Stop that,” I snapped when he pecked at my leg.

“I think he can sense you like foie gras and paté,” said Sunaina, with a cackle.

The bird preened at her before he resumed his completely unwarranted attack on me, while my heartless wife just laughed and laughed.

“Okay, I got a few good ones here,” said Sufi, who was busy clicking pictures when he should have been rescuing me from the goose of death.

“I swear to God, if any of those pictures end up online, I’ll fire you for good,” I snarled.

“You can try,” he replied with a loud snort. “Shoo, birdie! You can’t steal Mr C’s wife. Come along, Sue, and stop flirting with dangerous birds.”

“This was so much fun,” she said, feeding the last of the bread to her new boyfriend, who I had to admit was a huge improvement on Dhruv. “What are we doing next?”

“Mr C is going to row you across the lake while you read a book,” announced Sufi.

“Where do you get these cheesy ideas?” I asked in disgust.

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said with a wink. “Now, get rowing.”

That was easier said than done. Sufi got into a paddle boat and followed us around, taking pictures and giving stupid orders while I rowed my wife around the placid lake.

“Stretch your legs out and relax, Sue. You look petrified,” he scolded.

With a groan, Sunaina stretched her long, bare legs out in front of me. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate on rowing with all this temptation right under my nose?

“Okay, stop rowing, Mr C. It’s time to take some romantic pictures with your wife. Sue, go sit on his lap and make kissy faces,” said Sufi.

“No, thank you,” replied Sunaina primly.

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