Page 4 of One Hellish Wedlock
“Icalled you?” she murmured, glancing at her phone screen in confusion. Her brow furrowed as the realization hit her. “Yes…Icalled. I called you to ask for some money… I… I need money,” she added, hiccupping loudly.
Reyansh rolled his eyes at the sound and clenched his jaw in irritation.
“Which part of the world are you in now?” he asked through gritted teeth, his patience thinning by the second.
“Paris… The city of love…” she said with exaggerated sweetness, clearly amused with herself. Her cheeky reply only added to his annoyance.
“Why do you need money? What happened to all those cards you have?” he demanded.
“They’re all nil.”
“Nil?” he snapped, his voice rising.
“Don’t scream at me!” she shouted back, no longer amused.
Reyansh stepped away from Sunny to speak in private. “Watch your tone, Aanya,” he said sharply.
But Aanya only giggled in response. “I won’t watch my tone… because right now, I’m watching a hot guy sitting next to my table. Damn, he is so cute.” Another burst of laughter followed.
Reyansh’s hand curled into a fist. She never failed to provoke him, always managing to slip through the grip of his control.This reckless, sheer irresponsible lifestyle she had chosen infuriated him.
“MONEY! MONEY! MONEY!” Aanya suddenly began chanting into the phone, louder each time.
“STOP!” he barked and stormed back toward Sunny. He shoved the phone into his assistant’s hand. “Trace her location. Wherever she is, settle whatever she needs. Do you understand?”
Sunny nodded immediately and left the conference room to continue the call.
Reyansh remained behind, seething with rage. This had gone too far. He would have to step in soon, before that woman pushed him beyond the limits of his restraint.
Same Time – Maldives
Fifty-five-year-old Anand Malhotra raised his glass, clinking it with his best friend Deep Singh’s, as the latter sat beside his glowing third wife, Ryma Singh.
“Congratulations on your third anniversary, Deep. May you and Ryma celebrate many more,” Anand toasted.
Ryma leaned in to hug her husband, who kissed her forehead affectionately. The couple beamed in their tropical paradise celebration.
“Thank you, Anand,” Deep said. “I’m really glad you made it. I thought you and Kyle would be in Australia for your new venture.”
“We had planned for it,” Anand admitted. “But Kyle insisted we be here. She didn’t want to miss her best friend’s anniversary.”
Ryma smiled proudly. She and Kyle had been good friends for years. In fact, it was through Kyle that she had met Deep and eventually married him. She looked adoringly at her husband, then scanned the party.
“Where’s Kyle? I haven’t seen her since it began,” Ryma asked.
“She’s a busy woman,” Anand replied with a chuckle. “Even in her fifties, she has more energy than I ever will.”
Deep and Ryma laughed at that just as Deep’s attention shifted.
“There she comes,” he said, pointing toward the hallway.
Kyle entered, every bit as elegant and confident as ever. A British-Indian woman in her early fifties, Kyle had met Anand years ago during a business trip to London. His romantic instincts hadn’t let him walk away. He married her when his daughter, Aanya, was just sixteen, one of the many decisions that changed the course of his daughter’s life forever.
“Hey, love,” Kyle greeted, wrapping her arm around Anand’s.
“Darling, you’ve been seriously missed here. Where were you?” he asked, pulling her closer.
“Phone calls,” she muttered, her tone vague, but her expression said more than she intended. Anand picked up on it immediately and excused them from the group, leading her aside.
