All Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty

"You know, Sita, I think you should take it easy and travel the world; why bother with a job and put yourself through that rut?" Someone had asked Sita when she announced her plans of returning to the UK for a job.

"I will travel the world," Sita said, "but it doesn't have to be at the expense of my career if my career can help me afford it."

"Why do you need a career at all?" Someone else had asked. "Your dad's fucking wealthy, and has only two kids; you will have enough to buy land on the moon, if not a quarter of the moon itself."

"My career doesn't have to do with money," she had told them, a rough edge to her tone; a slip-up for sure, since she quickly tried to divert the topic, as if to make them forget she had let anyone even have a glimpse of her vexation.

The good girl mask slid off just a bit, but I wanted to see more of it. Sita Cherukuri wasn't a good girl; I could tell. She wasn't half as shallow as the brats we were conversing with, but she moulded into any conversation, picking up similarities and making everyone believe she was their friend.

Well, everyone, except me, for some reason.

Since she was hell-bent on ignoring my existence.

And I did not like it.

Not one bit.

I pushed at the topic, trying to see if she would slip up again, maybe get me a reaction out of her. I wasn't going to let her just ignore me. And her reaction had to be worth me making the effort to get under her skin.

And oh, god, was it a good one.

I could not get myself to stop, all these years later.

"Are you going to make enough to wash off your dad's black money?"

Sita's eyes flashed at me, her lips pursing. "Did you learn enough law to legitimise all of your dad's businesses?"

I smiled at her, appreciating her comeback, as I leaned back into my seat, enjoying the pissed look on her face. "Just enough to cover your dad's trail as well."

I watched her jaw tighten, and felt the adrenaline rush through me. Ah, Sita Cherukuri, not so amicable always, is she?

"Of course there's a trail," she comments, rolling her eyes, as she takes a sip of her drink; a rum and cola she had told someone who had asked her when she first joined the conversation, "where else would your family get the money for elections?"

I did not like the implication that my family was taking money from her father; as if we needed any of it at all. We most definitely did not.

"Your dad gave money to the party fund; not my family."

"Your family's party."

"That your father is a part of."

"Only because your father asked mine to be a part of it. He is a huge asset to any party he is in, everyone knows it."

"Of course, since he comes with all of that black money."

"That your family has used more of, than mine."

"You know these are under the table transactions, don't you?"

"Because your very honest party needs them, doesn't it?"

"Just as your father needs the party."

"Your father needs mine, not the other way around."

"Your father has no friends anywhere else."

"You know as well as I do that my father could damn well contest independently and win in a landslide victory— your father is the one with a brand new party that needs leaders that will win; leaders that my father brought; leaders that are his friends."

"Always such a smart mouth," I comment.

"Only when provoked," Sita retorts.

"Oh my god," Dhruv and Nitya groan, at the same time.

Causing me to frown, as Sita asks, "what is that about?"

Dhruv only rolls his eyes. "You're constantly waiting for a chance to fight," he says. "Dhushyanth is always fucking annoying, but you are such a pleasure to be around, when he's not in the equation."

"See!" Sita exclaims with enthusiasm, "you are the problem."

I cock a single eyebrow at her, waiting for her to realise, and for her enthusiastic smile to mellow down, but when it doesn't waver, I defend myself, "cause I am the one picking all the fights in this marriage."

"They're not unreasonable," she says, defensively, her eyebrows furrowing together into a frown. "You get on my nerves like that."

"I swear you agreed you fought me on purpose."

Sita's jaw drops. "You can't bring that up!"

I catch movement next to Sita, and focus on Meera, who purses her lips and shakes her head. "Sita does that," she says, "she picks fights just because she wants to; it's her red flag."

"Talk about toxic," Nitya says, "who does that?"

"That's not even fair, when have I ever done it?" Sita asks, defensively.

"Sita," Meera sighs, "don't even."

Sita pouts, and looks at me, her eyebrows furrowing as she does. "Are you saying I'm the problem?"

"The people in the relationship don't have to be the problem," I tell her, "I'm saying we're not the problem."

I seem to have the right answer, since everyone around us release collective sighs.

"Good one, bava," Nitya commends, slapping my knee.

I see Sita's lips quirk up, perhaps enough for her to look away from me, her face fully angled towards Meera who is watching me with an amused expression.

"You are a smooth talker, aren't you?" She asks, when I meet her gaze.

"Politicians," Sita pronounces, with an exaggerated sigh, causing my smile to quickly fall off of my face.

"Wives," I respond, in a similar tone, causing everyone else to gasp, as Dhruv slaps his forehead.

"Just when I think you're smart," he murmurs, shaking his head.

Sita, however, only grins back at me, before falling into a fit of giggles, apparently surprising everyone in the room.

She doesn't explain her response though, instead, choosing to avoid the lingering question by opening the door for the maids who come up with two room service trolleys, seemingly loaded with dishes and jugs of drinks.