Page 103 of Obsession

Armaan looked at Mihir. “You haven’t said anything, brother.”

Mihir leaned forward. His musky, leathery scent reached her nose, and her heart tripped. No. She wasn’t reacting to him like that again.

“What about the board?” Mihir asked. “A small wedding is fine. But the board members will expect an invite. Have you thought of that?”

“Yes,” Armaan replied. “Navya and I are happy to hold a formal reception in Moscow after our wedding. We will have to make it exclusive, though.”

“That’s good,” Mihir said. He looked at Vedant. “What about you?”

“Since our weddings are so close, it’s enough that Armaan invites the board to his,” Vedant said.

Mihir shook his head. “It won’t do, Vedant. The board will create a problem, and that’s the last thing I want. You will have to organize a reception to which they all are invited.”

“We already have Ivan’s threat hanging on our heads,” Vedant explained. “Two public receptions will be risky.”

Of course, in the excitement of the weddings, she’d forgotten the danger looming on all their lives. On Mihir’s life.

“Can you all not postpone the receptions to later?” she blurted out. “Let things settle a bit, and then do larger gatherings. Hopefully, you guys will find Ivan by then.”

Mihir turned to face her. “That’s a good suggestion. We’ll have to figure out a suitable excuse to tell the board for postponing the receptions. But good idea.”

She blinked. A few weeks ago, Mihir had blamed her for canoodling with his enemy. Now, he was agreeing with her. It didn’t make sense.

The three men got into a discussion in rapid Russian, while Navya and Reina talked amongst themselves.

Mihir lifted his hand to pick up his wineglass, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing his ring. She looked at his other hand, and the ring wasn’t there either. But it no longer mattered to her what he did with the ring. It had never been hers in the first place.

She took a bite of the chicken skewer and grimaced. It wasn’t settling well with her. She pushed her plate away, annoyed with herself. She really ought to take better care of her health. The one thing she’d promised herself on the flight back from Moscow was that she would get over Mihir. She wouldn’t let him ruin her life again. And here she was, once again feeling sick because she hadn’t been looking after herself well enough. That stopped now.

A server placed their plates in front of them. Ananya lifted her fork to eat her pasta. She swallowed the first bite, and her stomach churned. Nausea clawed at her throat. Oh God, she was going to be sick.

Dropping her fork, she jumped out of her seat. “Sorry, I’m…”

Slapping a palm over her mouth, she ran to the restroom. She’d barely made it inside the small cubicle before she was violently ill, her stomach giving up all its contents.

There was a knock on the door.

“It’s us,” Reina said. “Are you okay?”

Another bout of nausea assailed her, and she threw up again. Several minutes later, she stepped out of the cubicle. Her sisters were waiting outside for her, looking worried. Ananya washed her mouth, gargling several times.

Reina pulled some mint from her purse. “Take this. You will feel better.”

She took a step toward her sister, and a wave of dizziness assaulted her. Reina quickly caught her arm, pushing her onto the couch in the restroom.

“Get me some water for her,” Reina ordered Navya.

The dizziness passed almost immediately.

“I’m fine,” Ananya said. “I think I’ve got a stomach bug.”

Navya reappeared and offered her a bottle of water. Ananya took a sip. “Girls, I’m really better.”

“Look at me, Ananya,” Reina said, lifting each of her eyelids, shining her phone’s flashlight into them.

“I’m fine,” Ananya stressed.

“I’m the doctor here,” her youngest sister said. “Can I be the judge of that?”

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