Page 39 of The Surprise Bollywood Baby

His fingers gently clasped her face as he studied her. “Something’s bothering you, Zara. You’re not yourself.”

She looked into his eyes and there was no laughter there. He knew. Just like that. Rubbing a finger over her lips, she nodded. “We need to talk. I’ve been waiting for you to get back.”

He frowned, his gaze studying her intently. “We’ll leave immediately.” He pushed onto his feet and took her hand in his. “Are you unwell?”

“Yes. No. I mean, I know why I haven’t been feeling completely okay.”

Her statement shocked him, she knew. But his expression remained steady. And that was what Zara needed. “I have a suite on the thirty-fifth floor. We’ll talk there.”

Zara looked around and noted that their departure was already making waves. “Vikram will kill me for dragging you away,” she muttered.

“Bhai knows this is not where I naturally shine, Zara. This is his arena.”

When she still looked doubtful, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her. “Come,shahzadi. Your career won’t sink if you bunk off being on show for one evening.”

It felt as if it took no longer than a blink of an eye before the lift pinged and they were walking through the white marbled foyer into the sitting lounge. Beautiful teak furnishings gave the room a warm glow. Greenery draped from ceilings and climbed along the white walls, giving the expansive space a very cozy feel.

Zara knew Virat was watching her. Waiting for her to speak. And that she was only postponing the inevitable. She took a bracing breath and turned around.

He’d already thrown his jacket away and undone the cuffs of his linen shirt. Dark and broad and unfailingly male, he made Zara’s pulse dance in her chest. She swallowed and looked away.

He came close and whispered her name, a thousand questions in it. “Zara?”

Zara looked at him, and blurted it out. “I’m pregnant. I’m about six weeks along.” She had to take a long breath at the end of that statement. And when he didn’t move or even blink, she whispered inanely, “It’s yours, Virat. The baby’s yours.”

Virat laughed. Or at least he’d thought he’d laughed. But the sound that emerged was a hollow, lackluster mockery of the real thing. “I didn’t think otherwise, Zara. But thank you for the clarification.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to say that you doubted me. I’m sorry I have no template for how to do this and I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that—”

“Don’t. God. Please stop apologizing.” He pressed a hand to his temple and let out another laugh. “There’s no speech you could give that could prepare me for that revelation, is there? So yeah, don’t worry about your delivery.”

She didn’t move. Just looked at him steadily. Ever the poised woman. As if waiting patiently to let him process it all.

For a few seconds, he wondered if he was in some sort of a strange feverish dream he usually had when he was sleep-deprived. When the rest and peace he desperately wanted eluded him.

But that wasn’t possible. Because he didn’t want to tie himself down to Zara, did he? Not when he still didn’t completely trust her, when he didn’t like that she continued to haunt his every waking thought.

Not when she was beginning to matter too much.

No. The last thing he should want, or dream about, was that Zara was pregnant with his child. Withhischild.

A girl or a boy who might look up to him. A totally innocent child who would be affected by his every word, gesture or action. Or by the very lack of word, gesture or action from him.

Virat thought he might throw up without the benefit of alcohol for the first time in his life.

“Virat?” Zara asked, her eyes wide, her stance both challenging and yet defensive. As if she was ready for anything he might throw at her. When it was she who’d been turning his life upside down from the minute she’d walked back into it.

“You’re determined to pull me under, aren’t you,shahzadi?” he asked then. The words came automatically, as if his brain could send mechanical responses while his heart...his heart tackled the avalanche of emotions that threatened to drown him. If he let them...

“Pull you under?” she said, coming closer tentatively.

“First you blurt out to me that you...that your marriage was a...” He rubbed his hand over his face, unable to even form the words. The outrage that filled him at the pain he’d seen in her eyes defied words.

God, he’d been so blind. The signs of an abusive marriage had all been there. When they’d met back then, she’d been so wary of him in the beginning. Of any man who might have been even a little friendly. Constantly on alert as if she was afraid he might steal something she didn’t want to give. Needlessly second-guessing her every small decision.

Her wonder at the silliest of sights. Her sudden alertness as if someone might have been watching and gauging her every word and action. The silent tears she’d cried when he’d taken her on a tour of the city at night.

And now, after all these years, the simple admission that she hadn’t taken a lover in ten years. That she couldn’t let her guard down with anyone else. With any other man but him. He considered himself a good judge of human character, a master of human nature, and yet he’d been so blind to it.

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