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“I get it,” Harsh said before Ram could snarl at him. “You didn’t protect her before and so you need to do it now.”
Ram looked ready to clobber him, his right fist clenching and unclenching like he was imagining it was wrapped around Harsh’s throat.
“But she deserves to have a stake in the game,” Harsh said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist so she didn’t faceplant in the middle of the study. “This is her fight and she’ll damn well get to be in it to the finish. Fight for her,” he told Ram gently, understanding the other man’s rage better than anybody else could. “Just do it by her side.”
“Harsh is right.” Agastya got to his feet and laid a hand on Ram’s shoulder. “You should listen to him.”
“Wow.” Harsh darted a mock, shocked look at his brother. “Did you choke on those words?”
“And I can literally see your newfound maturity ooze out of your pores,” Agastya drawled as Aarush laughed. His gaze softened as he looked at Raashi’s white, tense face. “Nothing will happen without your knowledge. I promise.”
She nodded, stepping around him to wrap her arms around her brother. He held on to her, just as tightly, his cheek pressed to her head.
“I’m sorry.” The words were a broken whisper.
“I’m sorry too,” he grunted back, sounding pained. “We didn’t get it right then. But we’ll get it right now. He will never bother you again. I promise.”
“I’ll get behind that,” Agastya murmured.
“And I.” Aarush chimed in.
Harsh said nothing, his gaze on Raashi. There was time for the vows of vengeance to be sworn. Right now, he wanted to get his wife back to their room and into bed. He could see the wheels in her wickedly intelligent head turning and he didn’t want her going off half-cocked fuelled by nerves and exhaustion.
With one last hug for Ram, Raashi murmured a thank you and goodnight to everyone and finally, let Harsh lead her from the room. They made their way to their rooms in silence, walking through the lounge and into the bedroom without a peep out of either of them.
Raashi sat down on the side of the bed with a thump. Harsh stripped to his boxers and turned the light off after setting the air conditioner to Arctic like she preferred it and slipped into bed behind her.
Gently urging her to lie back, he pulled her towards him, her back to his front, spooning her. Raashi’s stiff body slowly relaxed, one prickly inch at a time. The pitch dark of the room blanketed them bringing with it an illusion of peace and solitude. He heard Raashi’s choppy breath ease and steady.
“I’m sorry your fake wife is such a screw up,” she mumbled into her pillow, her voice hazy with sleep and fatigue.
His fake wife.
Harsh stared into the dark, wondering why the words sliced through his heart like that.
“Harsh?”
He grunted in response, his hand going to curl around her ribs, fingers touching the soft underside of her breast.
“I said I’m-“
“I heard you Raashi,” he interrupted harshly.
“And?” Raashi Gadde would never stop poking and prodding until she got a reaction.
“Go to sleep, Viper.”
The dark felt oppressive now. He was about to turn on a nightlamp when Raashi’s smaller hand curled around his, fingers twining through his thicker ones.
“You’re not a screw up,” he said huskily. “Take it from the OG screw up, you’ve got a long way to go before you qualify as one.”
“You’re one of the good ones, Harsh. Take it from the girl who’s scraped the bottom of the barrel when it comes to men. If you’re a screw up, then I would be proud to be one too.”
His heart twisted in his chest at her words. He kissed her shoulder, his fingers tightening around hers.
“Goodnight wife.”
He heard the smile in her voice as she responded, “Goodnight husband.”
