Chapter Six
Bright morning sunlight streaked through the holes in Zoya's tent, waking her before she was ready to rise. She pried open tired, gritty eyes, caught sight of puffy white clouds and a flock of blackbirds twirling overhead. A cheery sight mixed with an ominous one. Yay.
She struggled to sit up, her body as sore as she'd predicted. Actually more so.
Plan for the day: read about gardening for an hour, apply what she learned to Asad's roses, find and flirt with Rehaan.
Foolproof.
She gathered her basket of meager supplies"toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush "and crawled from the tent.
A high-pitched scream split her lips. Intruder!
Asad, only Asad, she realized a moment later, flattening a hand over her racing heart. He sat on the big rock she'd managed to roll next to the fire pit when she'd first moved out here, staring at her through narrowed eyes. The blaze she'd started last night had long since died, and there was no hint of smoke in the air to shield her view. She saw every inch of the man who had tormented her dreams, from his harsh, intractable expression to his big, strong body. Gone was the charming facade he usually displayed so readily. Now, iron-hard determination pulled his skin taut around his eyes and his mouth.
The change was startling and beautiful. He was a work of art, and he made her yearn for the impossible"or a few hours in his bed, no matter the cost. His hair stuck out in spikes. His eyes were sensuously tilted, his cheekbones sharp and his jaw squared with resolve. His wide shoulders looked as if they could carry any burden, and she wished he were the kind of man who would hold her with one arm while protecting her with the other.
But he's not, so he's not for me.
"I'm not sure I like how you're looking at me," he said. "But it doesn't matter. Get out here and talk to me."
Gulping, she scrambled the rest of the way out of the tent. "How did you find me?"
"How else? I followed you," he replied, his tone hard and inflexible. "You should have asked me for help long ago."
Humiliation burned her all over. "I just woke up. I need a moment of privacy. If you'll excuse me..." I will take off like a bullet, hide somewhere you can never find.
A muscle jumped underneath his eye. "You'll get your privacy, all right, but you'll get it at my house."
Mine! "I would rather""
"There's food. A feast."
""continue with my day the way I originally" A feast?" A whimper escaped her.
"One way or another, you're going with me. I'll carry you if I have to." His lids narrowed to tiny slits, his lashes hiding the sudden dark anticipation in his eyes. "And, Zoya, as angry as I am, I kind of hope I have to."
She didn't understand what was happening right now. But then, why would she? Her experience with the male species was limited to boys, those who had received the "Faaruqui Pass" in junior high and high school.
"Okay. I'll go with you. But I'll walk." The last thing she wanted him to pick her. "Is Rehaan there?" she asked, deciding to use this as an opportunity to kick-start her 'Happily Ever After' plan. The sooner the better.
His frown deepened. "Yes. Why?"
"Just like that," she replied, both excited and nervous."
"She set her basket of goodies in her tent. The toothbrush, however, she kept it in her pocket.
Asad motioned her forward.
"I should have asked permission to camp here, I know," she said, marching onward, "but you'd forgive me if I told you it was only for a night, right?"
"It wasn't one night, and we both know it." He stayed beside her, careful not to touch her. "Don't lie to me. Not ever again."
The challenging tone had returned, demanding more than she was willing to give.
"You are not a stripper," he said.
"Of course I am! In my imagination," she muttered. She'd been a lot of things in her imagination. A divorced mom supporting five kids...who happened to catch the eye of the richest CEO in town. A skilled surgeon given three more weeks to live...who happened to catch the eye of her handsomest patient"who happened to be a brilliant scientist willing to risk his career to save her life. She'd even been a princess from a distant world where lands were ravaged by war...and she happened to catch the eye of the enemy army's leader, ushering in long-desired peace.
Without a TV or computer, she'd had to entertain herself, and as an unrepentant bookworm, she'd had a lot of inspiration.
"Anyhow"" Asad pushed a branch out of her path ""you don't live in the city. You don't own a car or have a job. You've been living on this land since you were kicked out of the house. And by living, of course, I mean existing. Have I left anything out?"
"No." She surged forward and because of him, she wasn't sliced by thorns. For a jerk, he sure was considerate. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He still sounded angry.
"At the house, he opened the front door for her. She entered the living room, and the second she caught the scent of breakfast, she picked up speed. A feast was indeed spread across the kitchen table, plus two empty plates and two glasses of orange juice. Her stomach rumbled, her knees going weak, her mouth watering.
"Sit." He flattened his hand on her lower back and gave her a gentle push forward.
The moment she obeyed, he began piling her plate high with heaping spoonfuls of every dish. Scrambled eggs. Sausage patties. Pancakes. Waffles. Biscuits and gravy. The contents began to spill over the side. After he set the plate in front of her, he took the seat next to her.
"Eat," he said.
She did, and oh, wow. The taste! Even better than the blueberry juice she'd filched from the pie.
"Good, right?" he said, and she heard the pride in his tone.
"You cooked this?" she asked around a mouthful of eggs. She couldn't force herself to stop chewing long enough to pretend to be feminine and proper, a girl with manners.
"It's my specialty."
Breakfast. Of course. For every morning after one of his illicit affairs. "Well, I commend you on your perfect consolation prize."
"I don't think I know what you mean, honey."
"It's what you give your women instead of a relationship, right?"
His fork clattered against his plate. Which still had food on it, while hers was basically licked clean.
"Are you going to eat that?" She pointed to the waffle dripping with butter and syrup.
"It's not a consolation prize. It's breakfast. Nothing more, nothing less." He pushed the plate in her direction, and she dug in."
"What's your problem with long-term relationships?"
"Relationships leave scars," he said.
"Sometimes."
"Always."
"Well, those scars can be healed."
"Sometimes," he said, mimicking her. "But why risk any kind of mental or emotional harm when I can give something far better?"
Flushing, she said, "What could possibly be better than a relationship?"
"I believe we've discussed this. Pleasure. Lots and lots of pleasure."
The huskiness of his voice invited her to lean close and experience everything he had to offer...
Doing her best to ignore a cascade of shivers, she focused on her sausage. Every bite proved better than the last, and when she finished, she almost ate the plate. So good! But also threatening to come back up.
Whatever. Every bite had been worth it. She rubbed her tummy, saying, "Thank you, Asad. Really."
"Done?"
"Yes."
He stood and held out his hand. She hesitated, but in the end, there was no denying the man who'd just taken such good care of her. She curled her fingers around his, the calluses on his palms creating a delicious friction against her skin.
She tried to play it cool as he helped her stand to shaky legs.
"He led her into the hallway, to the second room on the right. Her old bedroom. How had he known?
"My room," he said.
"Seriously?" As she'd done the last time she'd been here, she took a moment to mourn the loss of her queen-size bed with its floral comforter, her antique nightstands, and the vaulted ceiling with crumbling crown molding and the distorted images she'd painted.
Zoya flashed back to the emotional breakdown she'd suffered soon after her mother's death, when she'd splattered the different colors of paint across the magical fairyland, leaving a chaotic mess.
"Were you the one who ruined all the paintings?" he asked.
She'd been staring up, she realized, and he'd easily guessed the direction of her thoughts.
"Yes. The day of my Ammi's funeral."
"I'm sorry for your loss. I'm also sorry you did what you did. I liked the paintings and hoped to preserve them, but you'd made sure nothing could be salvaged."
The words shocked her. "You actually liked my art?"
"You painted them?"
"Well, yeah. Why so surprised?"
He paid no heed to her question, saying, "Your talent is amazing, honey."
"Thank you." Glowing at his praise, Zoya took in the rest of the bedroom. "I never would have guessed you were a fan. I mean, you decided to go with beige walls."
"You don't like beige?"
"Beige is boring."
"The house I lived in before this one had beige walls."
"And now you can't live with a little color?"
A flash of annoyance in those brown eyes, quickly replaced with the flirtatious glint she was so used to seeing. "Did you see my sheets? They're blue."
Will not look at the bed.
"Why don't you take a shower and relax?" he said. "There are towels in the cabinet by the tub and clean clothes next to the sink. And, honey? If you try to run out of the window, I will hunt you down. You won't like what happens afterward." He paused, smiled slowly, wickedly. "Or maybe you'll like it a little too much."
How embarrassing. He knew the effect he had on her. "Asad""
"Shower." He shut the door, sealing her inside."
"Fine. She made her way into the bathroom. Once upon a time, the walls had been tiled in pink, her favorite color. Now everything was white, black and chrome: sleek and sexy for a modern man. But the changes didn't bother her so much anymore. Maybe because they reminded her of Asad.
She brushed her teeth once, twice for good measure, then stripped and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. Steam filled the air, the scent of Asad"masculine and sultry"joining it as she shampooed and conditioned her hair. She'd gotten used to cold showers, having to sneak them from the outdoor hoses of nearby homes after the owners sped off to work, and she'd come to prefer them. At least, that's what she'd told herself. Here, now, she admitted she'd only been fooling herself, trying to make herself feel better about her situation.
While the water continued to rain on her, she sat on the tile floor. Would Asad want to chat with her when she finished? Yeah. Would he kick her off his land for good?
He had every right to do so, but...but... Hot tears filled her eyes. Why Couldn't things go her way for once? Just once?
* * *
Asad paced in the living room, trying not to picture Zoya naked, soap and water trickling over miles of delectable skin he would sell his soul to touch. Trying, and failing. He wanted his hands on her, doing things. Bad things. Sweet things.
The desires were heightened, just like his reactions to her. But then, anger he'd rarely ever allowed himself to feel had burned away what remained of his restraint. Zoya lived as she did to punish herself, whether she realized it or not, and that crap ended today.
From now on, she would know only comfort.
For the first time in his life, he craved a specific woman, and no one else would do until his desires for her were satisfied. Another change, one that bothered him, but not enough to stop him. He wanted her, she wanted him, and so he would have her.
"She here?" Samar asked as he entered the room.
"Yeah. Did you find out what crimes she supposedly committed as a teen?"
Last night, after a little prompting from Asad, Samar had done his bro-duty and questioned his girlfriend in-depth about Zoya's past.
"Typical bully stuff. Called people awful names, made fun of them, made them cry. Stole boyfriends from other girls, only to dump the guys soon after. Everything stopped halfway through her junior year when she dropped out."
"Why, exactly, did she drop out?"
"Priya didn't know. No one does, apparently."
Something must have happened to her. Kids didn't just drop out of school for nothing. Especially the ones who ruled the school with an iron fist.
"You want me to hire someone to look into what happened to her?" Samar asked.
"Already done." He'd made the call last night.
"Yeah, but your people aren't my people. My guys will look places yours don't even know about."
Illegal places. "I don't want to go there." He trusted Samar, but he didn't want Zoya brought to anyone else's attention. "But thank you."
"Not a problem. Just let me know if you change your mind."
"Will do." They herd some noise from the bathroom, signaling the shower had just been shut off. Asad had to tamp down his excitement. "I know Priya's sister Khushi is on her way over to help Priya with her sandwiches, but tell your girl's not to show any anger toward Zoya. No name-calling. No insulting."
"You're putting me in the middle of a shit storm, my friend. You know that, right?"
"I do, and I'm sorry." He hated asking Samar for anything. "I'm also grateful."
"Hey, I wasn't complaining," Samar said with a grin.
"Thanks buddy."
Samar snorted and strode from the room. Right on time. The faint pitter-patter of bare feet echoed from the wood floor. Zoya rounded the corner"and Asad reacted as if he'd just been kicked in the gut.
Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt, a nervous gesture. For what he had planned, she should be very nervous.
Wet hair clung to her neck and arms. Her white T-shirt was damp in spots, revealing the outline of her lacy crimson bra. He'd had to guess her size: small, but perfect.
The shorts she wore had been cut from his most comfortable sweatpants, revealing mile-long legs.
"Have a seat," he said, motioning to the couch.
She shifted from one foot to the other, remaining in place. "Asad, I don't want to talk about my past."
"Then you won't." Again he motioned to the couch. "Sit. Please."
Frowning, she walked over and eased down. He settled in the chair across from her, wanting distance, hell, needing it to clear his head. But it didn't help. Her scent had changed subtly, the strawberries now dusted with sandalwood, saturating the air, filling his nose, going straight to his head.
"Whether you want to or not, we are going to talk about your future. You, Zoya Faaruqui, work for ARS(Asad, Rehaan and Samar) Industries, effective immediately." Yet another change. Too much, too fast, like everything else about her, and enough to make his head spin. But there was no better way to take care of her and keep her close.
"Wait." She shook her head, as if she were certain she'd misheard him. "Come again."
"Your talent is incomparable. Which is why""
"But you've only seen my ruined paintings. How do you know my talent is incomparable?"
"I can't believe you have to ask. While your superpower is painting, mine is X-ray vision. I saw beneath the splatters to the bones of the picture." And, okay, there were photos of her amazing work in the box. "May I continue now?"
She nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded.
"You are going to design the sets and characters Rehaan uses in his games. You'll do it on paper, which he will then scan digitally. An RV (Recreational Vehicle) will be delivered to my front yard later today, and you will live in it. A signing bonus for your services, one I would give to anyone I hired." Probably. "We don't always work normal hours."
"But...but...you haven't even seen my rsum. Which, to be fair, I submitted to one of your assistants when you first opened office here."
"The assistant stayed long enough to hire a receptionist from Ratibad Valley, not an artist. And I don't need to see your rsum. Your work speaks for itself." When she continued to gape at him, he decided to forge ahead. "Say thank you, but don't make the mistake of thinking your job will be easy. You will be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If we want you to draw a character sketch at two in the morning, you will."
"Do you even need an artist on staff?"
"Yes. Rehaan works way too much, and constantly recruiting freelancers takes a ton of time. This will take a major burden off his shoulders."
"So why haven't you hired an artist before today?"
Rather than admitting the truth"new hires usually gave him hives"he said, "Maybe I hadn't found the right slave. I mean, the right person yet."
Her lips twitched at the corners, as he'd intended.
Then the slam of a car door was heard, and she stiffened. "Expecting company?"
"Just Khushi."
The color drained from Zoya's cheeks. "She's going to be so mad I'm here. I should probably sneak out the back before you're forced to break up a catfight."
"First, I would never break up a catfight. I would watch it. Second, don't be silly. This isn't her house, and you're my guest. She'll deal."
The awe she showed at him made him uncomfortable"and hot as hell.
Khushi stopped to glare at Zoya, then at Asad. Then she walked to the kitchen, calling, "Priya. Let's get going' before I put a brick through a window."
The stiffness gradually abandoned Zoya. "Well. That went better than I expected."
A shirtless, sweaty Rehaan charged out of the workout room, and there was no need to guess why. He'd hoped to catch a glance of Khushi.
Upon first arriving in Ratibad Valley, Asad had asked her out, and then they parted on friendly terms. To Rehaan, whose attraction to her had only developed after Asad's association with her, was now forever off-limits.
"Hi, Rehaan," Zoya said, smiling and waving at the guy. "We haven't been officially introduced. I'm Zoya Faaruqui. Why don't you join us, In Fact Asad was just about to leave."
Excuse me? "I wasn't."
She looked embarrassed but didn't stop her flirtatious invitation.
Rehaan glanced between them before smiling and walking over. "Well. This should be interesting."
Book Talk
Ye Hai Mohabbatein
45