Chapter Seven
What did he just say?
She quickly averted her eyes from his sparkling brown ones. She needed to act cool and flippant. "Absolutely not at all what I was thinking."
"But wanting?" He leaned towards her.
Her toes curled as she inhaled the smell of his aftershave. How could a man smell that good at the end of the day? "Wanting?" Asad Ahmad Khan definitely knew how to charm a woman.
"You want me to kiss you." He hadn't stopped smiling and she couldn't either.
"I think you've had too much to drink." Zoya laughed.
"Zoya, two whiskeys wouldn't even alter my blood alcohol level," he said dryly."
"She liked teasing him. It was electrifying and exciting, and it seemed so natural. If circumstances had been different and they weren't who they were, maybe this is what they could have been like. Now that they weren't talking about their pasts anymore she could relax. Or should have been able to if Asad hadn't started talking about kissing her. The thought of her lips touching Asad's was enough to send her running because she knew it would be sinfully good.
"Now you, on the other hand, you don't look like you can handle much more," he said smugly and poured himself another round. Zoya watched him swallow the liquid in one fluid motion, admiring how the muscles in his tanned neck flexed. He was too handsome for his own good. The sparkle in his eye told her that he knew she was checking him out, and liking what she saw.
She pursed her lips and used her most authoritative tone. "Actually, Asad, I know exactly how much I can handle. I can drink four and a half shots of whiskey before I start acting like a moron. So fill'er up, buddy."
"Yes ma'am," he said with a laugh. "But now I want to know how you figured out that you can drink precisely that amount," he said, handing her a refill. When their fingers met, they both lingered for a few extra moments. She hoped her old calculation was still accurate. She was surprised she actually revealed that, because of course Asad would want to know.
"When I was in college I thought it would be a wise endeavor to drink in the privacy of my room until I got royally wasted. That way I wouldn't have to worry about over-drinking when I went out with friends. So I finally got the amount right, and discovered that four and a half was enough without losing my head." She tried to sound matter-of-fact, and leave out any connotation that there would ever be any other reason than that. She finished with taking a long drink of her scotch. Asad watched her pensively.
His brow furrowed. "So, let me get this straight. You sat in your dorm room by yourself and measured what your maximum dose of alcohol would be. Don't you think that's a little odd?"
She shook her head. "I don't like feeling out of control."
"I can understand that," he said with a nod. But she could tell that he knew there was more to the story. A part of her wanted to tell him everything. "A nineteen-year-old doesn't do that kind of thing."
"Well, this one did," Zoya said and held up her glass. "Now, if you don't mind I'll have that next shot. And I believe we were playing a game of truth or dare."
"You've been alone for a long time, haven't you?"
Zoya swallowed hard. Why would he ask that? It was the grandma hat. The books. Her holiday bag. He was learning too much about her. It was disconcerting. His feet were propped up on the ottoman in front of the sofa and he stared at the fire straight ahead, almost like he knew that if he looked at her it would be too personal. When she didn't answer right away he turned.
Zoya made the mistake of looking at his lips. He really shouldn't have such nice lips. They should have been thin, not sensual. He shouldn't have sensual lips. But her feelings went beyond how he looked. She shouldn't have enjoyed his company as much as she had today. Conversation with him was interesting and exciting. Being in such close proximity to him was unbearable because she wanted more from him, and that itself was a shocker. She had never wanted another man like him. She had never felt desire like this. The need for him to touch her, hold her, was so powerful that it made her want to ignore all the reasons she couldn't possibly ever pursue anything with him.
His question. She nodded finally, clearing her throat and looking away from him and the feelings he conjured up. "Yes, I guess I have been alone for a long time."
"Do you ever want to let go? Let someone take care of you?" His voice was gruff and sent shivers of pleasure throughout her body. She could hear the emotion behind his words, and the oh-so-tempting idea of letting someone take care of her, someone like him. But she knew what happened when you let your walls down and cared about people. There was always a reason someone couldn't love her enough to let her stay. It was a hard lesson she didn't want Lily to have to learn. Lily. She had nearly forgotten about Lily and why she was here. She hadn't broached the subject of adoption at all today, hoping that maybe if she lay off the topic he'd bring it up. But he hadn't. How could she be attracted to someone who refused to help his own flesh and blood? She finished her whiskey and turned to look at him. He still watched her with that I'm-going-to-kiss-you look that she had now identified. Focus, Zoya.
"What's really holding you back from adopting your niece?" she blurted out. She held her breath, because suddenly all the air seemed to have left the room. And the man that had been staring at her like he was about to make love to her mouth now looked as though he was ready to storm out of the room.
Just when she thought he was going to tell her to go to hell, his features turned calm. Eerily calm. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" His words came out softly, but were laced with disappointment and accusation.
She felt her heart skip. "What do you mean?"
"We were having a nice time and you got scared. You brought up Najma's daughter to turn the conversation away from you and to kill any desire between us." She knew her face burned brightly, but she didn't answer him. He was only partially right.
"You don't want your niece to suffer because of Najma's mistakes."
"Najma knew what she was doing. I'm not going to pick up her mess anymore."
"A baby is not a mess," she said, her voice shaking with anger.
"Back off, Zoya," he said, walking away from her to stand in front of the fire.
"It's going to hurt you more in the long run, Asad," she said speaking to his back.
"Somehow I doubt that."
"It will eat away at you. You are not the person you pretend to be. You are warm and you know how to love. I feel it, I sense it."
"Don't mistake desire for a beautiful woman for warmth and love," he snapped, turning to look at her. "Zoya, you have this naive, idealistic idea of who I am, but trust me, you're wrong. Not everyone is capable of being perfect like you, of doing the right thing."
She crossed her arms and looked at him accusingly. "Really? Then why didn't you let me drive home two nights ago?"
"I wasn't about to let a single woman drive those roads alone at night," he said with a shrug.
She smiled. "So you have a heart."
"Providing a stranger shelter from a storm and adopting a child are two entirely different things. Look, I even turn out the lights when an elderly couple comes looking for me. Not father material."
"Don't joke, and don't let your inability to forgive your sister prevent you from doing the right thing."
He turned his back to her again. The room was quiet, so still that it seemed surreal. The moon wasn't visible through the snow and wind. And neither were Asad's thoughts.
"It looks like the storm will probably end sometime tomorrow morning," Asad said, hands in his pockets, staring out the window. Zoya felt her stomach flip-flop as the reality of leaving set in. Things were more complicated now than before she arrived. She still hadn't convinced Asad to even consider adopting Lily, and she had developed feelings for a man she should despise.
Minutes passed as though Asad had forgotten she was even in the room. Zoya toyed with the idea of having one more glass of whiskey, even though she knew that wouldn't solve anything. What she needed was divine intervention.
"Zoya, I admire your determination and your ability to fight for what you believe in. You're very convincing." His expression wasn't angry. He looked thoughtful and pensive.
Hope bloomed in Zoya's heart. Had she actually gotten through to him? Was this the miracle she'd been waiting for? "Really?" she whispered, meeting his gaze. She felt her palms turn sweaty as she waited for him to continue.
"What if I set up a trust fund for my niece? She'll never have to worry about expenses or anything. It'll be more money than she'll need to live a wonderful life. She can even come and visit on holidays."
Zoya was unable to move for a minute. She processed what he said, wondering if there was some way she was misinterpreting. But there wasn't. She jumped up off the couch, her body trembling, her hands fisted at her sides. "What kind of cop-out, selfish, make-yourself-feel-like-a-hero kind of plan is that?"
Through her rage she saw the genuine surprise on his face. "What, so she's going to come and see her rich uncle once a year and then go back to her foster home? Hey, you know if you register Lily as a charity, maybe you can claim all the money you give to her as a tax write-off too! I thought you were an intelligent man, but you're a selfish, uncaring idiot!" Zoya yelled, resisting the urge to pummel his chest with her fists.
"Let's get something straight," he said leaning down so they were eye to eye. "I never claimed to be a saint. You came here, with your own naive expectations. What were you thinking? I'd just change my whole life for a baby I don't know? For a sister who didn't give a damn about her family?" He straightened up abruptly and then walked away from her, his long, angry stride taking him to the front door in an instant. She watched him shrug into his coat and didn't want him to have the last word, because his last words weren't good enough.
She followed him to the door. "Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I thought. Because if someone came to me and said that I had a niece that desperately needed me I would drop everything. I would rearrange my entire life if I found out I had family."
"Then you obviously don't know a damn thing about the kind of family I had," he said, zipping up his coat in one angry motion.
"Stop using your past as an excuse to be a jerk for the rest of your life!" She inched closer to him, not feeling the least bit intimidated as he stared down at her. "You could have your own family. You have the power to change everything, to do something really meaningful. She would be your daughter. If you had a little girl that looked up to you and thought you were the best daddy in the whole wide world, wouldn't you do everything for her, to keep her safe?" Zoya didn't give him a chance to answer before continuing.
"If I had a dad that came home to me every night and lifted me in his arms and kissed me, I'd know that I was loved, that I was wanted. If I was sad and thought the whole world was against me, but I had a daddy that loved me, and was there when I cried, or was there to pick me up when I fell, then I would know that everything was going to be okay. That's what every child should have, Asad. If this were a perfect world, then every child would have enough food in their stomach, a warm bed at night, and a parent who would walk through fire to keep them safe. I don't care how important your career is to you or how your sister screwed you over or how many times your father hurt you. You are a grown man and you have the power to change your future and that baby's future. You're a coward if you turn your back on her. How can you go to sleep at night, not knowing where your niece is? Not knowing if someone is hurting her? How dare you refuse her!" Zoya didn't care that tears were streaming down her face when she finished. She didn't care that she'd just revealed her innermost yearnings as a child, she didn't care that she was visibly shaking.
He didn't answer and Zoya stood there, letting him see her cry, hoping that she'd gotten through to him. He stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes glittering, his cheek flexing.
"I'm going to get firewood, I need some fresh air." His words came out in a cold, clipped tone and he didn't make eye contact with her. He whipped open the front door and then turned to her, pausing at the threshold. "If Bruno needs to go outside, make sure you put him on a leash and don't go past the back deck."
She gave him a sarcastic salute with her hand while she shook with rage. He said something under his breath and walked out.
She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and collapsed onto the sofa. She needed to regain control, she thought, trying to catch her breath. He had ignored everything. She wasn't going to get through to him. Bruno came over to sit in front of her. She buried her face in his warm fur, gently stroking him. A few minutes later she forced herself to regain control. "Bruno, I'm not giving up just yet. I've got until tomorrow," she mumbled. Bruno laid a furry paw on her knee and whined.
"At least you understand," she said. He scratched at her leg and then trotted over to the back door and scratched it, turning to look at her. "Oh, I guess that's what you wanted," she said with a sigh, rising and grabbing her coat.
She walked into the kitchen and pulled on her boots. She went through the motions of putting on her hat and mittens, though her mind was on Asad. It was still blizzard-like conditions and she knew how dangerous it could be in case they got too far from the house. She opened the broom closet and found a yellow toolbox. She flipped open the lid and found a rope right away in the perfectly organized box.
"Figures he'd be this neat," she mumbled. She paused for a moment, then purposefully took a few screws and bolts out of their compartments and dropped them into other compartments. She felt a little better as she snapped the lid shut. After hooking Bruno's leash around his collar, she swung open the door, the cold blast making them both step back a second.
"Okay, boy, make this quick," she yelled above the wind. She squinted, trying to keep an eye on Bruno as he pulled at the leash. It was almost impossible to see even a foot in front of them. How was Asad able to be out in this for so long? Bruno kept nudging her down the steps, refusing to do his business anywhere near the deck.
"You're as stubborn as your owner, Bruno. Hold on, I'm going to tie this rope around the banister so we don't get lost." Bruno waited obediently while she tied a double knot around the wooden handrail.
Zoya tried to focus on not falling in the deep snow. She lost her grip on the leash and swore under her breath while Bruno ran off, exhilarated by his freedom. Zoya yelled after him, forgoing her hold on the rope, instinctively choosing to run after the dog. A few steps out into the almost waist-high snow, the porch light was now impossible to be seen through the thick wind. She yelled Bruno's name as loud as she could, careful to keep her bearings so she'd be able to walk back to the house. At the sound of a bark she spun around, but there was still no sign of Bruno. She ventured out a few more steps, knowing the situation was getting more and more dangerous. She didn't have her rope to guide her back and she knew how easily a person could become disoriented and lost in a blizzard. She turned around to where she thought the deck should be and began trudging through the snow, feeling the snow seep through her clothing.
Seconds turned into minutes and Zoya tried not to panic as the only sound she could hear was that of ice pellets, and the only thing she could feel was a frigid cold seep through her. She kept calling for Bruno but couldn't hear anything except her own voice engulfed by the wind. She trudged along, but with each step felt herself move farther and farther from any chance of finding Bruno. Or the cabin.
No one was going to find her out here. Even if Asad looked for her, it was impossible to find a person in this. She needed to find her way back on her own. She had been in trouble before. She could do this. She could find her own way back"despite the fact that merely moving her legs through the snow was becoming more and more laborious. There was no way a blizzard was going to be her ending. Lily needed her."
Udne Ki Aasha
Music Corner
47