On Wednesday Annika woke up alone, and sighed. She met Shivaay downstairs and they went running in Central Park. At their predetermined stopping point, as per the specifically chosen route to minimize possible paparazzi exposure, Annika barely caught her breath before Shivaay backed her up against a tree and kissed her breathless again. "I've been waiting to do that since you walked off the elevator," he rumbled against her ear, then pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below on her neck.

Annika giggled, and pushed him back. I've been waiting since rolling over and finding an empty bed this morning. "Me too," she said instead.

She met her mother for hair and makeup at five thirty that evening. The hairdresser set to work. "I'm so glad you're feeling better, honey," she said.

"Thanks, Mom," she said as a lady started on her nails. "Is this necessary?" she asked on a sigh, gesturing to the nail woman with her free hand.

"Of course," Vanshika Trivedi said, elegant and perfectly buffed and coiffed as always. Annika could see why her mother had been a model, because she was still lovely. "This is going to be the best show for me, I'm just tickled you've decided to let me dress you up, at long last." The younger girl rolled her eyes. Her mother had wanted her to follow in her footsteps and model. Annika had very little desire to do so, if only this once to make her mother happy, because she didn't see herself as being quite beautiful enough to. Her mouth was a little too thin, her nose a little too long, and she found her eyes weren't quite photogenic enough. And she would hate to be told to lose ten kilograms.

"Well enjoy it, because it's not happening again," she said firmly. "And when do I get to see what I'm wearing?"

V: "When you get dressed."

Annika went to get dressed an hour and a half later, after her hair had been tortured into big, Old Hollywood curls and set with an ungodly amount of hairspray, and she'd been caked in makeup. She almost didn't recognize herself in the mirror but she had to admit, she looked pretty fucking fantastic.

And then she went to get dressed, and almost walked out right then. She called her mother on her cell. "Mom, are you on drugs? I can't wear that!"

"You have to, honey, it's the showpiece. Trust me, it will fit, and it will look stunning. Go go, Annika, put it on quick. Tight schedule. Ta!" Her mother hung up on her and Annika sighed. I better get a goddamn pony for fucking Diwali.

She put the dress on, and the mink that went with it, although she felt horrible and shuddered a little and waited with the other girls in the lineup. The girl tried not to chew her lip with nerves, hoping she wouldn't fall flat on her face, and ignored the looks of the other, all very stunning, models. You can do this. Just walk out, pose, turn, half pose, walk back. You can do this. It's going to be fine.

She was dusted with one last swipe of powder before she stepped out, the very last one in line, and cameras flashed at her. She followed the sedate tempo of the music as she walked down the catwalk, just as she'd been taught since she could recall, and posed, smiling. When she shifted, just before her turn, she caught sight of Shivaay, gave him a real smile, then turned, and caught sight of Daksh Khuranna, who winked. Annika ignored him, walked back as the other models started their last look parade, and then came out with her mother, forcing a smile she didn't quite feel as everyone clapped and her mother beamed and bowed and waved. The girl was glad the spotlight was blinding.

Afterward was the after party, with a large guest list of A-listers, models and other designers, and Annika wished she could slink back to her hotel room. "You look good up there, Annika," Daksh said from behind her.

"Too bad you look worse up close," she said easily, tucking the loathable mink up around herself, trying to cover herself.

"This red is a good colour on you." He trailed a finger from the tip of her shoulder down the plunging neckline of the gown with its gradient silk mesh.

Annika stepped away from him. "Please don't fucking touch me," she said in a low, deadly voice.

Daksh grinned all dark and handsome. "Going to have Daddy's henchman come scare me off again?" he drawled, just as quiet.

Annika grit her teeth, hands balling into fists. "He'd kick your ass."

D: "Before or after you fucked him, babe?"

Her mouth dropped open, the mink slipped to the floor, and Annika reacted without thought. She brought her fist up and punched him, hard, in the mouth. And she followed the advice Shivaay had given her once upon a time, shifting her weight into it and following through all the way. To her delight, Daksh toppled right over backward, looking flabbergasted, holding his face.

Her chest was heaving and for a second, everything seemed suspended. And then Vanshika and Harsh came over, and the girl, if only to save her own ass, said very loud and pointedly, "He didn't like your collection, Mom."

There was an awkward moment and then Vanshika and Harsh were helping Daksh back up as Annika was whisked away by Harsh's own personal head of security, Tushar Mathur. She quickly changed out of her couture and back into the clothes she'd arrived in and then Mathur put her, stern faced as ever and without saying a word, into the back of a car.

Annika frowned, already seeing the headlines on the rags and put a hand to her face. "You hit him good," said the driver and she jumped, because it was Shivaay.

"I shouldn't have," she mumbled.

"Probably not," Shivaay agreed. "But it was still a damn good punch."

When they got back to the hotel, Annika went to her room and started packing. By the time her father showed up a half hour later, she was almost finished. "Annika," he said, sounding disappointed. She stood in the bathroom, putting her makeup away.

"I know, I know," she grumbled. "Is the fucker going to press charges?"

"I don't know," Harsh sighed.

"He deserved it," she said vengefully, even if she was starting to feel guilty. "Is Mom mad I caused a scene at her after party?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

Harsh Trivedi almost smiled. "She's thrilled. It's going to be talked about for weeks, and you know her. Any press is good press for her line, even if it's bad press." Annika sighed. "What did he say to you?"

Annika shook her head. There was way too much to go into to explain properly. "It doesn't matter. I'm going home, though." Harsh nodded and when the girl looked at her father she felt a wave of sadness, because he looked older, far older, than he normally did. "I'm sorry, Dad," she said, and hugged him. He hugged back.

"I understand, honey. Mostly." She smiled a little and pulled away. "What I don't get is why you didn't tell me you put Shivaay in a tough spot." Her smile morphed into a frown.

A: "What?"

Harsh sighed, running a hand through his perpetually messy dark hair that was just starting to grey at the temples. "He told me about Monday night." The girl frowned even more, even though she'd half expected he would.

"So?" she said defensively.

"So you should have told me yourself. It's not his job to bring these things to my attention after the fact." Annika looked down, biting her lip guiltily, and fiddled with a blush brush in its case.

"Nothing happened," she said, but that defense seemed flimsy and weak under her father's half glare. "Shivaay saved the day."

"Then you're welcome," Harsh Trivedi said sternly. "That is precisely the reason I employ security for you, Annika. I hope you realize now that my 'paranoia' isn't as farfetched as you think." He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll have a plane waiting at the airport by the time you get there," he said.

Annika hugged her father close. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered, blinking back tears.

After her father left, Shivaay came in, eyeing her luggage. "Are you ready to go?" The girl nodded and they went to the airport, boarded a private jet bound, nonstop, for Mumbai. Annika napped for the first leg, then got her sketchbook out and put some halfhearted shading on her latest sketch.

"What are you drawing?" Shivaay asked into the silence as they chased the sun across the sky.

"Nothing important," she murmured, pencil scratching away at the paper, drawing Shivaay's gaze. She was sitting across from him and one seat over and had her feet stretched out onto the seat next to his. Hazel eyes peeked at him. "What?"

"You always say that," he murmured, absently trailing the pad of his thumb over her ankle bone. "Can I see?" he asked, gesturing to her book with his chin. She automatically pulled it closer to her chest.

"No," she said, cheeks going pink.

S: "Why?"

Annika blinked and Shivaay grinned. "Fine," she said, pointedly closing the book and the page she was on and handed it over. "If you laugh, I'll punch you in the face," she added. Annika pointedly stared out the window to her right as he opened the book and flipped through. There were sketches of people and random objects, and he was impressed by her talent as he turned the pages of creamy, thick paper.

"These are good," he said, still flipping, then stopped at one at the almost halfway point. Annika glanced over, cheeks still pink. "I hope you don't show them to everyone," Shivaay added and his dark blue gaze met hers. Annika shrugged.

"Generally not. They're kind of personal," she said, smiling a tiny bit. She sat up and leaned over to see which one he'd stopped at, and smirked. "That one's not finished," she added.

"Too bad," he murmured, and kept going. Four pages later he paused again. "Annika," he said and she didn't have to look to know which one he was seeing now.

"I said they were personal," she mumbled, blushing darker. It was a sketch of him, and it was far from PG. He grinned, closed her book and handed it back.

"Very personal," he agreed, fingers grazing up her calf. She shifted in her seat. "Make sure that never falls into the wrong hands," he added.

Annika grinned, put her feet down, and moved to sit in his lap. "Of course," she murmured. "Now, would you like to offer up some more reference material?" the girl purred, tossing her hair, enveloping him in a cloud of vanilla scented bliss.

XXX

Friday morning, Annika got up, got coffee as per usual, went running with Shivaay to the pier and back without stopping, feeling very accomplished, and then spent an hour with him in gym as he taught her the finer points of boxing. And he'd been right saying that her noodles needed work, because only thirty minutes in her arms were aching, but she pushed through for another grueling half hour.

After a long hot shower and getting dressed, she padded down to the kitchen for food and saw the paper sitting on the counter, a couple supermarket tabloids atop it, featuring her picture. She frowned, went over, and almost had a stroke. Because there, in full colour, was a full page shot of her and Shivaay kissing the night of the Critics' Choice Movie Gala. She opened the rag and flipped to the story on page three.

Annika Trivedi Goes From Movie Star to Muscle: The Man of Mystery is Revealed! The girl skimmed the article, which glossed briefly over her relationship with Daksh Khuranna, but focused mainly on outing her relationship now with Shivaay. Two whole pages of article, with a half dozen photographs of them, all of which Annika hadn't seen before, at various locations, including one of the incident with her stalker in the street, where Shivaay had a possessive arm around her shoulders, and one of them in Central Park taken only days previous. And in all of them, they looked decidedly couple-y, even the ones where they weren't kissing. She read the article in full, half wanting to cry, half enraged that someone had tread so heavily on her privacy. She knew the parts that would be stuck in her mind forever. 'The secret romance kept hidden. Even her family had no idea. When asked about her romantic involvements, Annika's older brother, and acclaimed Oscar nominee, Viren Trivedi said only, "Annika? She's been single for ages," while recently in New York.' And of course, the mention of Miami. 'Even while attending her cousin's wedding, Miss Trivedi brought her secret lover, and the two stayed in a luxury suite, a confidential source can confirm, at the Regency in Miami, where they spent 'long hours' secluded behind closed doors.'

Her cell phone rang in her pocket and she felt her stomach turn to lead. "Hello?" she mumbled after picking up, forgetting to check the display.

"They're good shots of you, aren't they?" said a familiar voice she couldn't quite place through the background noise of a busy restaurant. "Definitely worth what I paid for them."

"What do you want?" she asked, borderline hysterical. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want an exclusive, no holds barred interview. You answer all the questions, gorgeous, truthfully, and you come alone. Or tomorrow morning, you can read the article that was just sent to your email and see the shots I got from your hotel room. Very racy and definitely the kind that sells papers. Meet me at the pier at six o'clock." The stranger said.

Annika opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out, and the mystery caller hung up on her. She stared at the rag for a long time, and then her phone rang again. She looked at the display before answering, and gulped, because it was her father's number. The girl picked up. "Hi, Dad," she said, trying to play it off like nothing was up, hoping he hadn't seen the article all the way in New York.

"How long?" he demanded.

Annika swallowed. "Dad, I can explain," she began.

"How long?" he repeated.

She ran a hand through her long dark hair. "Not as long as you're probably thinking," she admitted.

H: "Your mother and I are boarding the plane. We'll discuss this when we get home."

Annika winced at the terse, furious tone. It was the same one he'd had the first time she'd ever appeared in a negative light under the press's jaded glare. Guilt weighed heavily on her. "Let me talk to her," she heard her mother saying. "Annika?"

The girl put a hand over her face. "Yeah, Mom," she said quietly.

"I have never been so disappointed in my entire life of you, young lady!" she said, and Annika heard a door shut. "How dare you not tell me?" she whispered and dark brows shot up. "Your father is furious, but I really couldn't be more pleased, honey. He's very handsome, and I hope all the negative press and fallout doesn't deter him. It would be so nice to see you settled down with someone I know he has your best interests at heart." Annika gaped. "I have to go," her mother whispered. "I love you, honey," she added in her normal speaking tone, and Annika's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment.

"I love you too, Mom," she said at last, and hung up then quickly checked her email. There was a new message from an email address she'd never seen, and as she read the article, the dread in the pit of her stomach churned into anxiety. Because this article detailed how she'd been playing Shivaay, stringing him along while she had actually been the one behind the exposee article in the first place. And, to convince her, there was a photo of her in Miami, checking out the two young Latino guys who'd been looking at her ass while Shivaay looked disgruntled, holding her bag. Despite knowing the circumstances of the photo, Annika could see how, with the article, it would look particularly damning. And it was just one photo that would make her look like a horrible person. The caller had hinted at even more.

You can't let this get printed. You'll lose him forever, if you haven't already. She took a deep breath and vowed she'd be at the pier at six o'clock, and she'd answer whatever questions this person had for her.

Shivaay was just getting out of the shower when someone hammered on his door. He picked up his Pistol and answered the door with it in his hand, a towel around his hips. Jigi stared back at him, looking equally pissed and empathetic. "Get dressed and come to my office, Oberoi," he grunted.

Ten minutes later, the bodyguard sank into the chair across from Jigi's desk. The elder man slapped a tabloid down between them. "The shit's hit the fan." Shivaay clenched his jaw but didn't reply. "What did I tell you the last time we spoke in this office?" Jigi demanded.

"Keep my hands and the rest to myself," he said quietly.

J: "Unless you wanted to ruin your career. So either you're an idiot or you fell for the girl. Which is it?"

Shivaay swallowed and looked down at the rag, unable to keep Jigi's gaze. "Both," he replied evenly.

"You know Trivedi's going to fire your ass, right?" Shivaay nodded. "And you know she's going to fight to keep you." Shivaay looked up. "Pictures don't lie, Oberoi. And the Trivedi girl is as fucking ruthlessly determined as they come." He opened the tabloid paper and pointed to a picture of them outside Annika's gallery. He was looking toward the SUV, her small hand in his, and she was grinning up at him, sunglasses on her head. He recalled the occasion, from her dress, and was disturbed he couldn't even recall seeing a camera. "And that face doesn't lie either. If you fell for her, she's fallen for you."

Shivaay swallowed thickly, even as he told himself not to get excited. Just because Jigi thought so didn't make it true. For all he knew, he was just a convenient lay for Annika, even if what he knew of her didn't support that in the slightest. "So?" he found himself asking. "It doesn't change anything. Goodbye job, housing, career, you name it," he grumbled. He was furious with himself for letting this even happen in the first place, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Which made him only more furious at himself.

"Sure it does. Because you just made yourself the best candidate for watching over the girl long term. Which is how I'm going to spin this to Trivedi." Jigi sat back. "Unless you're going to pussy out. But if you have feelings for the Trivedi girl, somehow I don't see that happening."

Shivaay shook his head. "Trivedi isn't going to keep me on," he said, trying to smother the hope that he might not be utterly and completely fucked.

"We'll see," Jigi said lightly. "I like you, Oberoi. You're good at this game and you've got heart. I don't want to lose you on my team."

Shivaay almost smiled at that, because it was the first compliment Jigi had ever paid him in three goddamn years. "You're getting soft, Jigi," he said, standing up as the older man did.

"I don't have anyone else who'd want to, or be able to, replace you, Oberoi. I'm not soft, I'm selfish, because I don't want to get stuck watching the girl if you're out on your ass." Jigi clapped him on the shoulder. "Trivedi's plane is due in an hour and a half. If I don't see you on camera, I'm going to assume you're in your own room."

Jigi winked and Shivaay did smile a tiny bit, and then hurried up to the mansion. Annika was in the kitchen when he entered through the door there. "You saw?" he asked softly, joining her where she stood at the counter, staring down at the tabloid.

She nodded. "I'm sorry," she said even softer. He reached for her hand.

"Don't be," he said. "I knew going in this would probably happen. And I don't regret a thing."

She turned into him, putting her face in his chest. "Me too," Annika whispered.

"Your parents land in an hour and a half." She nodded.

"My dad is really pissed," she said, sighing heavily, then pulled back at looked up at him. "My mom is secretly ecstatic."

He smiled a little, then brought his mouth down against hers gently, not giving a flying fuck who saw. Because in that moment she was too achingly beautiful and not knowing if he'd see her this close twenty four hours from now, it was impossible to resist. And, goddamn it, he was in love with her. His hands cupped her cheeks, tangling his fingers in her hair, and she sighed into his mouth. "Do you want to go upstairs?" he murmured after a long moment.

A: "Yes."

Shivaay couldn't help the guilty glance up the camera at the end of the hall before he followed Annika, still holding her hand, into her rooms, but once the door closed behind them, everything else in the world fell away. It was just them, and Shivaay wanted to take his time, savour every possible facet of her, for as long as possible, in case he might never get the chance again. He wanted to imprint the feel of her on his flesh, imbed the smell of her in his nose forever, and most of all, be able to burn every last inch of her perfect body and face into his memory so he could see her every second of every day until he fucking died.

Two hours later found them back in the kitchen when Harsh and Vanshika Trivedi came in. He looked thunderous, she looked determined. Annika gulped and braced for the storm. "You're fired," Harsh said to Shivaay without preamble.

The bodyguard inclined his head as though he'd expected no less. Annika stood up from her seat at the breakfast bar beside him. "No," she said. Harsh lifted both brows.

"Last I checked, you don't make that decision, Annika," Harsh snapped. He glared at Shivaay. "I'm going to do you a favour and not mention why you're being let go on your file."

The bodyguard set his jaw a little, but nodded once. "Fine then," Annika said easily. "I'm moving out." Harsh glared at her and Vanshika put a hand on his arm.

"Where?" Harsh scoffed.

"With Gauri and Bhavya," Annika said automatically, glaring right back. "And that means if you try to set a replacement security person on me, I'll file a restraining order on them." Shivaay put a warning hand on Annika's forearm.

Harsh looked murderous. "Talk to her," he said to Vanshika.

The elder woman patted his hand. "Come now, Harsh, she's twenty six. It's time she spread her wings." Harsh looked at his wife as though aliens had abducted her and replaced her with a very poor clone. "Stop, Harsh. You heard what Jigi said," she added quietly.

Annika frowned. "Take your pick, Dad," she pushed, already knowing by the intensity of the frown her father was wearing what the answer would be. "Shivaay or nothing."

Harsh shook his head. "No. I won't have it."

Vanshika sent her daughter the 'I'm working on it' look. Annika mushed her lips together. "It's okay," Shivaay said quietly. "It's probably best if I just go quietly," he murmured.

"No," Annika said, rounding on him. "Fuck you, if that's what you want, but that's not fucking fair." She turned back to her father. "That picture, the one after the Critics Choice Movie Gala, I was drunk and stupid, and it wasn't Shivaay's fault. I kissed him."

Harsh grit his teeth. "And this one, then?" Harsh asked, pointing to the shot of them in Central Park. Annika blushed. "So how long has this been going on then?" Harsh demanded.

Annika glared and folded her arms. "Since the day after my birthday."

Vanshika's brows shot up and Annika shot her an apologetic look. "Get out of my house," Harsh said to Shivaay who stood up.

"No," Annika insisted. "Stay." She glared at her father and added in a deadly voice. "I just have to pack a bag with some stuff to crash at Gauri's for a bit." Shivaay shook his head, but Annika grabbed his hand, biting her lower lip and looking suddenly hesitant, as though half thinking already he would run for the hills and never look back. "Unless, you really don't-" she mumbled, but he squeezed her hand.

"Pack your bag," he said quietly. "And you can meet me at the end of the driveway."

She pursed her mouth for a moment, then lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, sent her father a venomous glare, and went upstairs to pack a bag. "This is all your fault. She's going to leave herself vulnerable and it's all your fault," Harsh growled at him.

S: "I'll only take half the blame. Like I said before, Mr. Trivedi, her determination is admirable."

He crossed the kitchen to leave and as he got to the door, Harsh asked. "Do you love her?"

Shivaay gave the impression of a smile. "What do you think?" he asked, and then left.

Twenty minutes later, she came down the driveway in her vintage Volkswagen and Shivaay almost smiled as he thought about getting in with her. "Do you want to stay with me at Gauri and Bhavya's?" she asked after he'd closed the door.

"No." She frowned, making no move to drive forward.

"Why not?" she demanded. "Where else will you go?"

Preferably anywhere else. "A hotel."

Annika snorted. "Seriously? After all that?"

He turned his head and looked at her properly. "Do you want to stay there with me?"

"No," she said.

Shivaay half smiled, leaned over and kissed her. "Then you'll stay with your cousins and I'll stay at a hotel for now."

Annika smiled back a bit, despite feeling a horrible mix of guilt, anxiety, and fear, all consuming her insides. "I guess that's settled then."

She dropped him at a nearby hotel with a kiss, then called Gauri. Her cousin picked up on the third ring.

G: "Hey bitch, how was New York?"

A: "You have no idea. Are you home?"

G: "Not yet. I'm on my way."

Annika sighed. "I'll probably be waiting for you. I need liquor and a shoulder."

"Uh oh," Gauri said. "Trouble with the white chocolate?"

The girl thunked her head against the headrest. "You have no idea. Just hurry up."

G: "Spare key's behind the welcome sign. Let yourself in."

A: "See you in a bit."

Annika hung up, drove to Gauri's, lugged her heavy bag inside and to the elevator, then to Gauri's door, and let herself in. Home sweet home, hopefully, for now. The truth was, Annika had rather wanted to stay with Shivaay at his hotel, but not tonight. Tonight she had the horrible meeting with the person blackmailing her.

"Hey bitch," Gauri said when she got in ten minutes later. Annika had wine on the coffee table. "Uh oh, you're getting drunk and it's only two thirty in the afternoon. So what's up?"

Annika sighed for what felt like the millionth time. "Everyone knows about Shivaay and me. Someone leaked it to the press, I guess, and it's all out now. There's pictures and everything."

Gauri gaped. "You're shitting me," she said, sitting down after tossing her bag and shoes aside, helping herself to wine. "Who? And why?"

Annika shrugged. "Dunno."

"And your parents flipped?" Gauri guessed.

One side of the girl's mouth turned up. "Sort of. Dad flipped out, fired him and everything. Mom was just pissed I didn't tell her sooner. She's secretly thrilled, because she thinks he'll take care of me or whatever."

"Won't he?" Gauri asked, then her eyes went round. "He does want to still see you, right? I mean, like, he's not freaked out with the whole world knowing, right?"

Annika's own eyes widened. "I think so." But now she doubted herself. You pretty much got him fired, because you drank tequila and acted slutty.Gods, what do you think? "Maybe?"

Gauri frowned. "Did he say-?"

"We didn't talk about it." She frowned a little sadly, because she realized they never really talked about it, what they were doing. Annika had, perhaps naively and foolishly, assumed they were dating on some level. Now that the seed of doubt had been planted... She didn't know.

G: "I'm guessing you need to crash here? I saw the bag on the backseat of your car in the parking lot."

A: "Just for a bit. I have the money to rent a place of my own, but I need to find something first."

G: "Stay here as long as you like, girl. Lemme text Bhavya to bring dinner and more wine on her way home."

"I'm going out around five thirty," Annika said quickly, and Gauri grinned.

G: "Bitch please, this ain't your strict home anymore. You don't gotta tell me shit, except that you're good with cold Chinese leftovers whenever you wanna eat."

"That I can handle," the girl said, and polished off her wine.

At five fifty eight, Annika was by the pier, waiting, feeling distinctly on edge and horribly nervous. She ordered fries at the snackbar and picked at them, just for something to do with her hands. At six, she was still waiting, and her anxiety had turned into full blown nausea in her stomach. At six oh five, she was starting to feel pissed, more than anything. Typical male bastard, she thought savagely. Asks you out and can't even be bothered to fucking show up on time!

"I'm surprised you came alone," the familiar voice said behind her, as a man sat down on the bench behind hers. Annika turned and looked over her shoulder and stared at a decidedly familiar man with dark hair, an easy smile, and sunglasses on. He smiled wider as she tried to place him. "You don't remember me. Ouch."

The girl frowned. "I don't make it a habit to be familiar with con artists," she said, glaring. "What do you want?"

He put a recording device on the cement block between the benches. "I want everything."

Annika folded her arms. "And what do I get in return?" she demanded.

Stranger: "Other than the guarantee that article never sees the light of day?"

She pursed her mouth. "How do I know you won't just print it anyway?"

"You don't," he said, smiling. "Best to cover all your bases, though, right? You'll have to trust my word. As for what you get, you get to tell the world what it's like to be famous."

The girl grit her teeth. "Fine," she said acidly. "Ask away."

He clicked the record button, and for the next hour, she answered all of his questions, truthfully, except when he asked for personal details that weren't hers to share. At the end of the interview, Annika finally placed him.

"You're the Paint shop guy," she said as he tucked the recorder back in his pocket.

He grinned, lowering his sunglasses to look her directly in the eye. "Very good, Annika."

"So you're not really a painter, are you?" she demanded.

His grin widened as he put his sunglasses back on and stood. "Sure I am," he replied. "Gotta pay the bills somehow, right? Oh wait, you wouldn't have any clue. See you around, gorgeous." Annika watched him walk away as the sun slowly began to descend over the ocean.

On her way back to her car, she called Shivaay. If the Paint shop guy was going to publish the bullshit story she'd been playing the tall, sexy man, she wanted him to know beforehand it wasn't true. And it was time to come clean about everything anyway. He picked up on the second ring. "Hey," she said, smiling a little, leaning against her Beetle. "Are you busy?"

"If watching a really bad TV movie on cable is busy, then yes," he said, sounding bored.

"Would you like me to come liven up the tedium?" she asked.

S: "Absolutely."

Annika smiled. "See you in ten."

When she knocked on the door of his hotel room, she felt a tingle of nerves, because this wasn't going to be a pleasant visit, she had a feeling. He opened the door shirtless and her determination to say her bit before she could be distracted by him sexually wavered. Shivaay backed her up against the door after it closed and kissed her, tongue sliding into her mouth and hands slipping up under her tee, and all her determination melted. They barely made it into bed despite it only being a dozen steps away.

Annika swallowed as she laid with him afterward, their legs tangled together and in the sheets, not wanting to ruin the moment, but knowing he deserved the truth. Because when he'd laid her out and looked at her, devouring her with his eyes and setting every one of her nerve endings alight with an electric sizzle of desire, she'd realized she was utterly and completely in love with him.

She wanted to wake up beside him every day, wanted to dig out the secrets that made his eyes so very thunderous and clouded, and most of all, wanted to trust him as she'd never fully trusted a man before. Always, it seemed, when she'd dated there was an ulterior motive. With Daksh, it had been the perks of a built in date to any event and a woman to spend the night with when no new conquest could be found. With the one before, it had been a chance to be famous and showcase his musical talents. And the ones through college had all just wanted to see themselves on the front page of a tabloid with her. But when Annika was with Shivaay, she couldn't help but feel all he wanted was her, as she was. Famous or not.

"What's with the face?" he rumbled, brushing his thumb over her lips, half smiling at her.

She turned her head into the caress of his fingers on her jaw, kissing his palm as she covered his much larger hand with her own. "I think we need to have a talk," she whispered. His mouth tightened and he moved his hand away.

"Is this the part where you tell me thanks, it was fun, but you're not really interested?" he asked stiffly.

Annika's hazel eyes widened. "No," she murmured, shocked. "Why wouldn't I be interested?" Her eyes roved over him. "I meant talk about the...article." Shivaay frowned a tiny bit.

"What about the article?" he asked slowly. The girl took a deep breath and told him everything. From the first message and photos, to the last message, and then, the interview. She hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't for him to sit up, stony faced, and say very quietly, "You should probably leave now."

A sharp pain lanced through her chest and she pressed her lips together to keep the hurt in check. "Look, I know you're probably mad, but I was trying to keep it out of the papers, you have to believe me," she whispered.

Shivaay got out of bed and shook his head as he paced away from her. "You knew," he said accusingly, looking over his shoulder at her. "You knew someone was following you, us, around, you knew they had those pictures, and you didn't tell me." She didn't know what to say, because that was true. "The whole fucking time, you knew there were people documenting this, all of it, and you couldn't even tell me? And then you just threw all caution to the wind and went to meet this fucking guy and gave him God only knows what kind of information about yourself?" He shook his head again as she blinked back tears. "And me? What did you tell him about me?"

Annika felt her temper rear. "What could I tell him about you?" she asked, feeling hurt and rejected. She'd been trying to act out of self preservation and been trying to keep his life from being ruined in the process. And maybe it hadn't been the best choice, but she couldn't undo it now. "I barely know anything about you."

His eyes narrowed a little. "Small miracles. So when should I expect to appear in a shitty tabloid again?" he asked cuttingly.

Annika grit her teeth and went to get dressed, picking up her clothes as she found them. "Fuck you, Shivaay. Maybe you shouldn't have slept with me if you were so opposed to the thought of being tarred with the brush of infamy. But I didn't ask for any of this, either, you know."

She snatched up her bag by the door, the tears stinging the back of her eyes and starting to blur her vision. "And yet you didn't do much to stop it, did you?" Shivaay said. She grabbed the envelope with all the notes and photos she'd been sent and tossed them on the bed.

"As much as you did to stop yourself getting fired I guess," she said, looking at him one last time, heart breaking, and then slammed out of his hotel room.

She had to take a minute when she got in her car to compose herself enough to drive, but then put the Beetle in gear and motored back to Gauri and Bhavya's, praying there was still wine and Chinese leftovers. And ice cream.

On Monday, Annika got an email from a different completely unknown email address, and it contained a sneak peek of the article Paint Shop Guy had written about her. It was a complete exposee piece, about how she secretly loathed the fame and notoriety that came from having famous family members. It detailed her 'struggling art career' that 'wouldn't ever get off the ground' because she was afraid to use her real name to market herself, her obvious secrecy regarding relationships and dating and, on the whole, it wasn't a bad piece.

She wasn't fond of the title, 'Tabloid Princess Wishes to be Normal', but all in all, it was a relatively accurate piece. Of course, it was a little sensational, considering it was riddled with direct quotes from her, pretty much saying she wished her family wasn't famous or she could've been born to other parents. And, just to make sure it ran millions of printings, there was an exclusive on Shivaay. Just a few tidbits about their oh so secret relationship and a quote of hers that made her blush. 'He's a twelve. And not just in looks, but in every possible way.' Which of course, sounded like she was rating his lovemaking skills, when in actuality she'd been talking about his sense of humour, and his loyalty, and most of all, his innate kindness. Although the sex was definitely also a twelve.

Annika didn't think Paint Shop Guy would respond, but she sent a reply to the email anyway, keeping it short and sweet. Not bad. I hope you make lots of money to pay the bills and stick to painting from now on, though.

The piece ran on Wednesday, and Annika, braced for it, got a call early from her father. "Come home, honey," he said. Then Vanshika took over.

"Oh, Annika, honey, I almost cried. I never knew you felt so stifled," she sniffled, making Annika's guilt shoot into the stratosphere.

"Mom, look, it's kind of exaggerated. And some of the quotes were taken slightly out of context. I just don't like feeling like there's always someone watching, y'know?" she sighed. "Obviously I love you, and Dad, and even Vir for the most part, but it sucks living under a microscope." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to move back home. I've been looking at places of my own, and I think it'll be good for all of us."

"Of course, honey," her mother said, "whatever you want. But you simply have to let me help you decorate if you get your own place."

Now that she'd been on her own, free as free could be, Annika loved it. She felt almost normal, even. But despite that, she wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and go back to when she was still at home with her parents. Because then she would have Shivaay back.

He hadn't called or texted and she hadn't been able to bring herself to make the first move. And Annika had decided if he wanted no more part of her, that would be fine too, and she would move on. Even if it still hurt to think about him, was torture to remember him, and she woke up, panting and sweaty and utterly alone in the middle of the night, aching for him and the feel of his hands and mouth all over her body.

XXX

Author's Notes : The secrets out guys, were you expecting it to be the paint shop guy? Only one more chapter to go and let me tell you, I will surely miss this fic. This chapter was 6950 words long, and I hope you liked it.

Happy Reading. Stay Safe.