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“Are you insane?” Raashi was gaping at him. “Or blind? Because there is literally no other reason why you would say that.”
“This.” He waved his hands again. “What’s so special about it? This is the look you were going for?”
“Yes.” She tightened her arm crossing, launching her cleavage into the stratosphere. “I wanted to look good.”
“You always looked good, you stupid woman. This,” he did more hand waving like the deranged lunatic that he clearly was. “Is all window dressing. But you,” he jabbed a finger at her. “You. Always. Looked. Good.”
Faces flushed, chests heaving, they faced each other, completely oblivious to the people milling around them. The completely blank look of incomprehension on her face inflamed his outrage. Did she really not see herself the way the rest of them saw her? The way he saw her? Why was that? Had no one ever told her how awesome she was? Why did she feel the need to change herself so dramatically?
“What are you talking about?” Raashi asked faintly. “I know what I looked like and-“
“Then you’re the one who was blind,” he muttered. “Clearly those industrial strength glasses you wore weren’t good enough. You should have seen what I saw.”
“And what did you see?”
“The most irritating, infuriating, annoying woman in the world,” he seethed.
“Gee thanks,” Raashi returned drily. “This is doing wonders for my ego.”
“But also, someone with fire, someone with spirit, someone with grit. Fiercely protective of her loved ones, wildly inappropriate, willfully ambitious, blindingly brilliant.” With each word, he took a step closer to her, until they were standing toe to toe.
“I wanted to look like someone who could be Harsh Kodela’s fiancée.” The admission was a hushed whisper that barely reached his ears.
The bees were now rabid hornets. Their poison spread like wildfire through his veins until all he saw was the beautiful, mind-blowingly sexy woman in front of him. Not the polished, made-up version that looked too good to be true. But the viciously smart, poisoned tongue, viper who kept him on his toes.
Harsh Kodela’s fiancée. Dyslexic, tenth class fail, family disappointment, vapid screen monkey…Harsh Kodela.
“Oh baby,” he whispered. “You’ve always been too good for him.”
Twenty-Four
RAASHI
Raashi could feel her makeup melting off her face. A hot, fevered flush ran through her body as she tried to look everywhere but at Harsh.
You always looked good, you stupid woman.
Only Harsh Kodela could both insult and compliment her in one sentence.
“Congratulations Raashi,” a distant relative squealed. “I can’t believe you’re marrying Harsh Kodela. You’re so lucky. I mean I literally can’t find the words to describe what I’m thinking.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is blessed,” Harsh interjected making Raashi scowl at him.
The brainless twit tittered at him.
“Pranoti,” Raashi said icily. “I think your mother is calling you.”
The twit blinked at her blankly. “My mother didn’t come tonight.”
Oh. Dammit.
“Well, someone in a pink saree is waving at you.”
The twit frowned at the crowd. There were an awful lot of pink sarees. “Where?”
“There!” Raashi pointed vaguely towards the north Indian food stall and then gave Pranoti a helpful shove with a hand between her shoulder blades. Thankfully, the other girl finally got the message and walked off in a huff.
A husky laugh had the fine hair on the nape of her neck standing at attention. She desperately wished for the heavy mane of hair she’d hacked off earlier that afternoon. It would have made sure the fine hair behaved.
