How do I even know it’s you? Let me meet you once.
She stared at the message for a long while, her thoughts a muddled whirl. She wasn’t going to answer him. Not right now. Majid could never meet Celina because Celina didn’t exist anymore. But maybe allowing him to think he could would push him a few steps closer to that cliff she was urging him towards.
She was still mulling the issue over when Kabir stepped out of his bedroom in, heaven help them all, gold leggings and an oversized black sweatshirt.
“God save me from idiots,” she said wearily. “You need to wear something inconspicuous.”
“Nothing about me is inconspicuous,” Kabir grumbled but he went back in to change. This time around he appeared in black tracks and the same black sweatshirt.
“Thank God for small mercies,” she muttered.
“You really need to stop dragging God into all our interactions. He’s going to get tired of running interference.” Kabir grinned.
Kabir’s phone rang and he answered, his smile fading. Disconnecting, he looked at Cara. “Our escort is here.”
“Ask the security guys for a picture of him,” she replied, getting to her feet.
Once they’d verified it was the right person, Cara and Kabir allowed the man to be buzzed in.
A thin, young man with a receding hairline stepped through their door a second later. He shook hands with Kabir and folded his hands in a respectable namaste to Cara before saying, “We can leave immediately but we’ll need to leave your security behind.”
Kabir and Cara exchanged glances.
“We’re not sure that’s a good idea,” Cara began.
“Ma’am, Virat Sir has made all the arrangements.”
Shourya didn’t blink as he met her gaze. It was a bit unnerving to hold that strange, unblinking gaze.
“Well, if Gorgeous Storm made the arrangements, we should be okay right, Car?” Kabir murmured.
For the second time that morning, she shot him a death glare. “Should be is not the same as will be.”
“Ma’am.” The man who had a pathological dislike of blinking took a step forward. “If your security comes with us, it’s harder for us to travel unnoticed, especially from the press camped out on the footpath outside this building.”
Cara’s phone buzzed in her hand.
“It’s Viren Singhania,” Kabir said helpfully, peeping over her shoulder once again.
She dug her elbow into his stomach to silence the ass.
“Yes?” she snapped, the minute the line connected.
“If it’s the security thing that’s the hold up, bring them, I’ll manage it.”
His voice did the whole liquefying her insides thing again. Cara groaned.
“Fine. We’ll come without security but I swear to God, if you fuck this up-“
“Then you don’t have to look at my face for another fifteen years.”
“Fifteen years, four months and fourteen days,” she answered automatically before the import of her words hit her.
Silence, complicated silence echoed down the phone line to her.
“I’ll keep you safe, Celi,” he said huskily. “Trust me.”
Crestwood