Page 93 of The Bodyguard Proposal

He sighs. “This is how the industry works, Komal. The magazine agreed not to post the picture of you with your bodyguard if we give them a better deal.”

Somehow it’s possible for my gut to feel dunked in ice.They have a photo.

My mind flashes to the other day. Huan and I were on the street when I grabbed him. Is that the photo they got? Was someone watching us then? Or… we’ve been all around the city, and I haven’t been holding myself back. When was it? I don’t know. There are somanymoments. Have we been caught laughing? Kissing? Dating? Has he touched me in a way where the puritans of Pollywood will call me a whore? Have I been caught touching him like that? How long until they find out it’s my bodyguard? That I’ve crossed all kinds of lines.Repeatedly.

I feel blanched under the lights. Over-exposed and sick.

He said he’s not telling Mom.

What would she say if she found out?

I can’t imagine and that scares me.

Disappointment? Anger? Shame?

Her voice is suddenly in my head.

Two weeks in London, and you’ve done this to me? I didn't send Huan to watch you for that reason. What were you thinking? How could you do this? The media are mocking me as a mother. My career is going to fall apart because of this.

“Don’t worry, this all helps you,” Mohinder Uncle says. “When you get back, we’ll stage a paparazzi photo with Veer. That’s worth more to their readership, and that’s what they want in exchange for not running with this other story. You and Veer together.”

“You’ve fixed this? There won’t be a photo of me and Huan?”

I know exactly how public interest can be. It magnifies, inspects, and wrecks. People will go through Huan's garbage if it comes to that.He didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t sign up for this… but actually I have.

“Yes, count on me,” Mohinder Uncle says. “Although, for the rest of your trip, you have to be very careful. We got lucky this time. I’ve just spoken to your bodyguard about this, but keep your distance from each other.” He clears his throat. “Not that I’m worried. I know you won’t do anything to tarnish your mother’s name. I am not implying that, so please don’t get me wrong. It’s more about perception. Everything is speculation, even the slightest thing. That’s why you can’t have dinner together anymore.”

“Dinner?” I parrot.

“Yes. Let me send you the photo they got so you understand what I mean.”

My phone beeps.

I look at the shot.

We’re eating dessert at Prêt-à-Portea with our heads leaned close, because that’s all it takes. No cock touching required for scandal.

“Did you get it?” Mohinder Uncle asks.

“I did," I bite out, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry.

“You see how someone might think he is your boyfriend?”

My anger cracks past the dread.Thisis it?Thisis what Mohinder Uncle is stressing over?

Of course.

How did I forget, regardless of all my privilege and the bubble-wrapped world of Pollywood I live in, that I’m still a Punjabi woman?

“So I can’t have any male friends?”

“But he’s not your friend,” he corrects. “He’s your bodyguard.”

“So if he didn’t work for us, could I have dinner with him? Is that it?”

There is a scorpion on my tongue. Mohinder Uncle is surprised and wary of it, considering the rushed placating noises he’s making right now.

“Image control is very important”—he murmurs—“at least in the beginning. We don’t want your story to change without your control. Imagine all the work you and your mother will do in this movie and it being overshadowed by fabricated controversy. Trust me… or if you need to… we can talk about it with your mother?—”

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