Page 31 of Power

Amelia seemed disappointed at my revelation. “What was her name?”

“Salena.”

“Did you love her?” she pressed. Her curiosity always got the best of her.

I hesitated before answering. This conversation was heading in a dangerous direction, and I should have ended it, but I continued, “I thought I could. I was engaged to her.”

“Engaged?” she repeated in shock.

“It was an arranged marriage. My father wanted to strengthen our alliance with a British distributor. In exchange for loyalty, my father promised a marriage between myself and his daughter.”

“What happened to her?” Her eyes were fixed on me, unblinking.

“I broke the relationship off after my father killed himself. I never wanted to get married and only agreed to because marriage alliances are necessary in our business. My parents were arranged, so I knew that feelings of affection could follow, hence why I thought I could love her. However, since my father was no longer alive, I didn’t see a need to honor the contract, especially when I hadn’t really wanted to settle down in the first place.”

Hanging on my every word, she probed, “There must have been bad blood between you and her father after that.”

“There was. He eventually started doing business with Tarun out of revenge. But I had too much respect for Salena to put her through a forced marriage.”

“Do you still keep in touch with her?” Jealousy was evident in her expression.

“No. We went to Harvard together, but after I called off our marriage, she moved back home to England.” Salena had understood my reasoning but had still been upset about the breakup. Because of that, we hadn’t spoken since.

“Did you sleep with her?” she asked hesitantly, as if she knew I’d put my walls back up at her question.

“What did I tell you,jaan?Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answers to.” I had answered all that I needed to for one day.

I left her on the floor, disheveled and with my cum smeared around her lips as I exited her front door.

Chapter XIX

Amelia

“So, have you decided what you want to do?” Nat asked as she sipped on her pumpkin-spice latte. I had confided in her the general details of my relationship with Shyam—or lack thereof.

We had finally “discussed” what it was. I knew I cared about him, but I didn’t love him—yet. But after hearing about his stance, I couldn’t help but feel hurt.

I had decided to skip my weekend tradition of camping out in my apartment and coding until morning in exchange for going shopping with Nat. I hated shopping, but I needed some dressier outfits for work. I preferred my comfortable wardrobe, but I stuck out in the sea of women with pencil skirts and black leather pumps and men with perfectly tailored suits. I didn’t necessarily want to wear heels to work, but I could do with some pantsuits or even some nice blouses. Nat was a self-proclaimed expert at shopping, so she was the perfect person to help me.

“I don’t know. I’m not against hooking up. I’ve done it before. I just thought he cared for me as much I do for him,” I replied, then took a bite of my warm danish. It was one of the few fall days where the rain had held up so the sun could make an appearance, but the air still felt chilly, warning of impending winter.

I had thought for sure there was something more growing between us. But when he showed up at my place and warned me not to fall for him, my hope had deflated. He was sending me mixed messages, and I was confused.

“Guys like him are hard to read. They’re used to manipulating people and situations to get what they want. It’s why they’re such successful businessmen,” Nat said before taking another swig of her latte.

She was right. Powerful men like Shyam were used to manipulating people. They were experts at leaving people yearning for more.

“His brother said he was with a stripper the night we had sex for the first time.” I had been upset when I heard that. The thought that I was getting some woman’s sloppy seconds made me want to throw up. I’d wanted to give him a piece of my mind until he had stormed into my place like a raging bull.

“Beingwith a stripper doesn’t necessarily mean he fucked her, right?” Nat asked.

Deep down, I didn’t believe that he had slept with one either. Why would he have assured me he was clean when we had sex later that night?

“I guess. But he made it clear that he didn’t want our relationship to go deeper than sex.” I diverted my eyes from hers to hide my embarrassment. I felt like I was just a booty call.

“Is that necessarily a bad thing? Maybe it’ll be easier for you to use him as a reference for a bigger and better job later if you stay casual. No hurt feelings in the end to complicate things?”

Too late.My feelings were hurt, and I felt rejected. He had said he didn’t want to drag a woman into his unsafe lifestyle. Yet, he had been engaged to some woman, and I was only good enough for the occasional hook-up.

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