Chapter Twenty Four and Five
Asad spread a sheet on the floor.
Zoya demanded to know his question again and again, but he said, "In a minute," as he stretched on the floor.
She snuggled comfortably in bed and switched off the lamp, throwing shadows over the room.
"While you're up there on that cold, hard bed, I'm down here on these soft-as-silk sheets." Silk, sandpaper"whatever. "It's like you're punishing yourself when I only want to pamper you."
"Nice try, Ashu, [but I'm not buying the bull you're selling."
He covered his smile, realized she couldn't see him and let it stretch wide. "Ashu? That's the nickname I get?"
"Hate it?" Relish dripped from her tone.
"Darling, it's absolutely perfect. Come down here and let your good friend Ashu keep you safe all night."
She snorted. "Ask your question already. I'm about to fall asleep."
With darkness surrounding them, he kept his voice whisper-soft, almost like smoke. "What's your dirtiest fantasy?"
The rustle of covers. He couldn't see her, but he could easily imagine she'd just rolled to her side.
"I like to fantasize about you and me..."
"Go on."
"We're in one of the rooms here at the inn...and I'm wet, throbbing..."
"What do I do?" he croaked.
"You slowly...sweetly...make the bed for me."
He barked out a laugh. "Evil woman. I said dirtiest fantasy."
"You've seen these sheets. You know they're filthy. Besides, watching you clean would be total girl po*n."
"Me doing anything should be Zoya po*n."
"It is. It really is. You're my fantasy. But what's Asad po*n?"
Anything Zoya, and that was the honest truth.
She moved, and he hardened. She breathed"hell, she looked at him or entered a room, and he wanted her. Just her. Just to be near her like this. She eased something inside him, as if the missing part of his life had finally been found.
And maybe"maybe this time he could keep her. She hadn't run when he'd confessed his greatest sin.
"Did you enjoy your first official date with me?" he asked, choosing not to answer her last question.
"I did. You were charming""
"I'm always charming."
"And witty. And what do you mean, always charming? You most certainly are not."
"Hey, it's not my fault you're unable to recognize charm every time it bites you."
"Ha!"
He blew her a kiss, even though she couldn't see him. "Go on to sleep, Zoya. Get some rest." You're going to need it.
Covers rustled again. "Asad?" she whispered.
"Yes, Zoya."
"I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too." Though it took him hours to fall asleep, when he did, he was smiling."
"* * *
The next day began poorly. Asad woke up to find Zoya had already taken off, crushing his need to kiss her goodbye.
Mood souring by the second, he dressed in his usual suit and tie and, before heading to the office, stopped to talk to Tara about Akram and Mahek. He learned the two had already checked out"saving their lives"and asked that any new customers be turned away, as Asad would be paying double for every room. The less Zoya had to do, the more energy she would have for other activities.
At work, he watched the clock, waiting for time to tick by and cursing its ability to slow to a crawl.
By 5:03 p.m., he was certain Zoya had finished with her chores. But why hadn't she called him?
"You should be embarrassed," Rehaan said, plopping into the chair in front of his desk.
"Why?"
"You're even more of a goner than Samar."
Asad leaned back and folded his hands over his middle. "You're one to talk, Rehaan."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"There's a certain sassy woman you like to stare at... This ringing any bells for you?"
Rehaan glowered at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't want Khushi."
"Keep lying to yourself. Maybe one day you'll even believe it."
Eyes narrowing, Rehaan said, "If I wanted Khushi, I wouldn't be on the prowl for my next relationship, now, would I?"
When Rehaan decided to "be in a relationship" he always picked a woman he found attractive but didn't actually enjoy being around. Khushi seemed to fit the bill. Why not go for her?
"Anyone particular in mind?" Asad asked.
"No one I'm willing to discuss."
"Too bad. Where's she from? Ratibad Valley or the city?"
Rehaan glowered. "The city. Why?"
"Curiosity," Asad said while glancing at the clock"5:08 p.m. Zoya had a second job, damn it, and as her boss, he deserved a little consideration.
He jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. We'll continue this conversation after you've made up your mind...between the girl in the city and the one you really want here in Ratibad Valley."
Rehaan hurled anatomically impossible curses at him as he stalked from the office.
Asad didn't bother with his car, just barreled down the street on foot. Mr. Khanna and Mr. Kapoor were playing checkers, as usual, and called out a greeting.
"Going back for your girl?" Mr. Kapoor gave him a thumbs-up. "Good for you, son. Good for you."
Make sure you take her flowers. The ladies love them," Mr. Khanna said.
Right. Asad backtracked, buying a bouquet from the florist a few streets over. But when he reached the inn at last, he found no sign of Zoya.
He watched TV for an hour...two. He paced their room for an eternity. Finally, he caved and texted Zoya"where are U???"but he never received a reply.
He was just about to hunt her down when a knock sounded at the door. "Room service," a woman called, and he nearly came out of his skin when he recognized her voice.
He practically ripped the door from its hinges. Finally he could breathe. She stood with one arm anchored overhead, the other on her hip.
He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a swift kiss"swift because she walked away from him.
"Thank you for the best greeting ever," she said.
"I brought you flowers."
She whirled, her eyes wide. "Flowers? Again?"
Thank you, Mr. Khanna. "Again." He lifted the bouquet from the nightstand and passed it to her.
As she sniffed the petals, her eyes closed and a smile lifted the corners of her lips. An expression he would kill to see again. Every day. He walked to her, almost in a trance, but she must have sensed his intention to take her in his arms, because she backed away.
"I'm starved," she said. "Order room service while I shower?"
"You don't want to go out on another date?"
"I'm too tired. Besides," she said with a wink "I like having you all to myself."
He clasped his chest, just over his heart. "You're killing me, baby. You know that, don't you?"
"Oh! You'll be happy to know I finished a few sketches while I was on my break." She withdrew a stack of napkins from her pocket.
Grateful for the distraction, he studied each one, utterly blown away by her talent as usual. "This one looks like Anjali. And this one looks like Priya."
"I know. I'm sorry. I can change them, but I just thought""
"No. They're perfect. You're perfect."
As she shut herself in the bathroom, their gazes remained locked until the last possible second.
After dinner, they settled on the bed to watch TV. Asad was careful not to touch her, his control simply too fragile.
Hours passed, but he wasn't certain which programs played on the screen. Need had him by the throat. He hated it. He loved it. And when he could take it no more, he put his sheet on the floor and lay down.
"You ready for your next question?"
"I am," she said, switching off the TV and lamp, shrouding the room in darkness.
"What's your favorite thing about me?"
"I'd have to go with...your mustache. It's practically a recreational vehicle in this town."
"I hate to be the one to break this devastating news to you, baby, but I don't actually have a mustache."
"Well, you've got the shadow of one, and there have been a few times I've felt the prickle of it." She said while laughing whereas Asad remained quiet.
"Asad," she whispered.
"Yes, baby."
"My favorite thing about you is your heart. It's softer than I ever realized, and I treasure it."
* * *
What did you want to be when you grew up?" Asad asked. This was their third nightly session, and again, he'd looked forward to it all day, watching the clock, cursing it.
From the nightstand, a lamp glowed, allowing him to watch Zoya atop the bed. She rolled toward him, a lock of midnight hair hanging over the side of the bed, teasing him. "You'll laugh, but..."
"Tell me." He had to know. Every. Little. Detail.
"I wanted to be a trophy wife. But only because a life of leisure sounded way cooler than the things my friends wanted to be," she rushed to add. "Doctor? Blood is gross. Reporter? Hounding family members of someone who just died? Never!"
He hadn't laughed, but she launched one of those pillows anyway, smacking him in the face.
"I had it all figured out. I would paint during the day while my very rich, very good-looking husband worked at his office. He owned the company and even the building, of course, and everyone feared him. Except me, because even though he was a bear, he was putty in my hands."
"Of course."
"Our chef would prepare dinner," she continued, "and the maids would clean up after us."
All doable. He would enjoy making her dreams come true. "And now?" He stuffed the pillow under his head.
"Now I absolutely do not want to be a trophy wife. I told you. I like earning my own way."
"I bet I could change your mind."
"You wanting to pamper me, Ashu?"
"Desperately. If only you'd let me..."
Silence stretched, and tension grew.
"What about you?" she asked, a hitch in her breath.
"I'd make an amazing trophy wife too."
She snorted. "I mean, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
He could have refused to answer. This wasn't about him. But when had he ever been able to resist her? "For a while, I dreamed of being a cop. I was going to bust some serious caps and take some names. Then I was arrested for theft, then assault, and that dream died real fast."
"What'd you steal?"
"Food, mostly. My fosters at the time were big on taking the checks they got for keeping me around, but not on feeding me."
She extended her arm, offering her hand. As he reached up to twine their fingers, she said, "I hate that you weren't treated fairly."
"I turned out all right."
"But you are not without wounds."
"None of us are," he said. "But for the first time in my life, I think I'm healing."
* * *
"Tell me about your parents," Asad said the next night.
Miracle of miracles, Zoya had put a sheet next to his with zero prompting from him. They faced each other, were basically curled into each other, and he'd never been so pleased with so little. But he wanted more. He needed it. As close as she was to him, so close he breathed in the soft fragrance of her skin every time he inhaled, his hands fisted because he remembered all too well the silky feel of her hair tangled between his fingers.
He missed her so bad he hurt physically.
Unwilling to leave her this morning, he'd blown off work. Well, his own. He'd accompanied Zoya, stepping in and helping her with chores. He'd teased her and laughed with her, even scolded her. She worked too long and too hard, refusing to slow down, and he'd quickly gotten tired of people coming to the inn just to humiliate her. And since he'd taken over most of the rooms, the would-be patrons had holed up in the lobby and dining hall and Tara had demanded Zoya clean both.
His temper had nearly snapped. Would have, if Zoya hadn't stormed to the register where Tara was helping an out-of-town guest, yelling,
"Enough! I'll clean, but I won't entertain. Not without a significant pay increase. So unless you want to triple my check or fire me, I'm done for the day!"
Her confidence had grown by leaps and bounds, and Asad liked to think he'd had a positive influence on her. While Tara wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, she recognized a moneymaker when she saw one, and she hadn't fired Zoya. The girl brought in too much business with or without the personal cleaning entertainment.
And Zoya, well, despite the setbacks, she truly seemed to enjoy her life. As she'd worked today, she'd teased him right back, and he cherished every second.
"You were cuddled when you were sick, I'm assuming," he said now.
"Yes," she said. "My Ammi was the best. She loved me, and I was never in doubt of that."
"Did she know you were the town bully?" he asked carefully, not wanting to raise her hackles.
"Yeah. My father knew, too, and he'd yell at me for it anytime a teacher or parent would complain, but that would only make me lash out worse."
"He was a hypocrite."
"Yes, but I thought his attention, any attention, was better than the times he ignored me."
Poor Zoya. She'd been adrift, conflicted and in turmoil. Asad knew the feelings well. He'd felt them every time his father had dropped him off at one of his aunt's houses, saying he'd call, but never calling, saying he'd be back soon, but never showing up.
"Even though my father was a deadbeat, I loved him almost as much as I hated him," he said. "I always hoped the guy would change his mind about giving me up and rescue me from the system. At least, I hoped the first year...a little the second...but by the third I knew the truth. I would never see my father again."
Zoya patted his hand, her gaze holding him captive. "I hate what you went through," she said, "but I love that you understand me."
"Trust me, baby, I understand." And he did. He enjoyed sharing his past with her, which surprised him, but he also enjoyed her empathy, touched by how much she actually cared. It was something he wasn't used to getting from anyone other than Samar and Rehaan, but it was something he had craved all his life.
She scooted really close to him.
"Zoya." He swooped in, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, tasting, owning"being owned. His control burned out, and as she clung to him, he rolled her to her back, pinning her down with his weight.
"Wait. What are we doing?" She quickly rolled away from him, panting. "We can't do this. Not yet."
He swallowed a roar. For a while, only the sound of their breathing could be heard, but as time passed at a crawl, the intense ache between his legs gradually faded.
The one in his chest did not.
He could not resist her, and yet she seemed to have no trouble resisting him. No relationship could survive such an unsteady foundation.
Once again, the future did not look bright.
* * *
Mita came knocking on Zoya's door bright and early the next morning, offering to give her the entire weekend off.
"Why?" she asked, hearing Asad rustle around behind her. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the bathroom door closed with a soft snicker.
Something was wrong with him. He'd tossed and turned all night and snapped at her when she'd wished him a good morning. "Well, tomorrow no extra services will be offered so that the staff can attend the Winter Festival. I'm also going. How about you?"
"Oh, uh, I'm not sure I'm going." And she wouldn't pout about it. She didn't have extra money to waste on a carnival. "But why give me today off?"
"My way of saying thank you for giving me private time with Vineet."
"Oh." Oh! "Did something happen?"
A blush spilled over the girl's cheeks. "No, nothing like that, but we talked and it was awesome, and he's still here so I get another chance and I've never been so excited." Mita threw her arms around Zoya's neck and hugged her. "Thank you," she said, and skipped away.
As the shower started up in the bathroom, Zoya's happy smile faded. Her body ached so badly, had been on fire since Asad had reentered her life, but last night had taken her to a new level of torment. She'd thrown herself at him, thinking to hell with her plan to get to know each other better. He'd kissed her with such hunger, and she'd come close to begging him to take her. Of course, that's when her fears had peeked out of the mire, and she'd ruined everything. The sooner she slept with him, the sooner their relationship focused on sex rather than intimacy.
Their late-night chats would end. The quiet moments of teasing and learning"the moments she craved with every fiber of her being"would be gone forever.
When he emerged from the bathroom, he wore a white T-shirt and dark ripped jeans. He looked so young and beautiful, a model fresh off the runway.
"I'm happy to report I have the next two days off," she said, toying with the hem of her shirt.
He ran a towel through his hair, his gaze landing anywhere but on her. "I heard."
Nervousness mule-kicked her stomach. He hadn't been this standoffish since they'd called off their breakup. "You've been spending more and more time here, helping me clean rooms"" a fact that still thrilled her ""so why don't we go to your office this morning? You can get caught up and I can finish my sketches."
Still he didn't face her. "Good idea."
"Afterward, I'll have to go to Priya and Khushi's house to finally paint the mural I owe them."
"Not a problem."
Short and sweet answers were not his style, and it made her even more nervous. She hesitated for a moment. "Tomorrow is the Winter Festival. Would you like to... I don't know...go with me?"
"Sure." He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled on his shoes.
How enthusiastic he hadn't sounded.
She showered and, wanting to look her best, dressed in one of the summer dresses Asad had returned to her. The ice-blue beauty with a deep V-neck and flirty skirt. She forwent a sweater, despite the cooler temperature, no longer concerned by her scars. She was what she was,
and Asad liked her"but he didn't give her the usual heated once-over, didn't speak to her as he escorted her to the office, and it made her nervous. He didn't even speak to her as he worked or afterward when he drove her to Priya's house.
"What's wrong?" Priya asked when she entered.
At last Asad focused on her, watching her intently, waiting for her answer.
She merely offered a half smile. Won't lie, but won't admit the truth, either. "Did you get all the paints and brushes from the RV?"
"I sure did. Well, Samar did," Priya said. "We have a system. I want, he procures."
Samar, who sat on the couch in the living room, flipping channels on the TV, nodded. "Through any means necessary."
Priya beamed. "I'm awarding you ten points for giving the perfect response."
"I think I deserve twenty," he said.
"Then I'll have to deduct five for silly thinking."
He snorted.
"What does he do with these points?" Zoya asked in a whisper.
The feisty woman waggled her brows, and something deep inside Zoya contracted. Sex. Of course. But that kind of game was okay for them to play, because Samar loved Priya with all his heart, and he wouldn't allow the romance to die just because they were intimate.
"Come on. I'll show you where I want the mural." Priya led her into the hallway, where the borders had already been taped and the floor covered in plastic. "Now you can tell me what's wrong," she said, moving in front of Zoya.
"Well, for starters, I'm a mess," she admitted softly. "I told Asad I wanted to stop having sex while we got to know each other better, but everything I learn makes me like and admire him more, and I love him so much but don't want to tell him and scare him away, and I don't want to lose him, but what if I sleep with him like I really want to do, I mean really, really want to do, but I lose him anyway because we stop snuggling and talking, and all we can think about is sex, and what if""
Priya slapped her hand over Zoya's mouth. "Oh, wow. I would introduce you to Run On Sentence, but I see you've already met." Her hand fell away and she said, "That guy is crazy about you. But, no, you can't control what he does, feels or thinks. You can only control what you do. If you really love him that much, don't let fear make your choices for you. It's only ruining the time you have together. Start actually living.
Otherwise you'll look back and wonder why you didn't enjoy the time you did have together. And physical intimacy doesn't preclude emotional intimacy. Not when true, heartfelt emotions are involved. Have a little trust in the man. And yourself! You won't let the snuggles and talking end."
"That's actually a good point."
"Duh. That's the only kind I have."
Bottom line: Zoya had to stop making her choices based on how she assumed Asad would react and start making the right choices for herself.
"Okay," she said with a nod. "All right. I'm going to go for it, and if everything blows up in my face, I'll blame you and seek revenge. Now get lost so I can paint your mural."
* * *
Asad shifted on the couch for the thousandth time. Zoya had been painting for several hours, and he missed her the way he would have missed a hand, as if she had somehow become a necessary part of him. Maybe she had. Hell, she definitely had.
"Women adore romance," Priya suddenly announced. She and Samar were on the couch as well, cuddling together in the far corner, their dog asleep in Priya's lap. "Did you know that, Asad?"
"Since I'm pretty sure I've dated more of them than you have, I'm going to go with yes."
"You haven't dated and you haven't romanced. You've screwed. Do you get what I'm saying?" she asked.
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."
"Being romantic means cuddling. Sharing secrets."
He looked to Samar and sighed. "Where is she going with this?"
His friend shrugged. "Got me. I'm not a detective for the mysteries of women."
Priya slapped Asad's shoulder. "Just stop and think. You're known as the one-and-done man. Now, while you aren't sleeping with your girlfriend, you're romancing her. But what happens when you start sleeping with her again? The romance goes away. At least in her mind, it does."
Well, well. Zoya had clearly confided in Priya. He liked that she had a friend, but did not like the fact that she hadn't told him. Instead, she'd pulled away last night, choosing to be alone with her fears while stoking his.
And okay. He hadn't confided his fears to her, either. Instead, he'd internalized his hurt and snapped answers at her all day.
"Do you still feel like you're being kept in a cage?" Priya asked.
"Cage?" Samar asked.
"Still harping on the cage." Asad heaved a weighty sigh. "Perhaps it's time for you to get over it, considering you were never actually invited inside it."
"Who's in a cage?" Samar demanded.
"Besides, maybe I've been a good little schoolboy," Asad said, ignoring his friend. "Maybe I've learned a lesson."
"What? That feelings aren't so bad?" she asked.
"Hardly. If I'm going to feel, I have to make damn sure she does, too."
Priya leveled an evil grin on him. "I'm looking forward to the day you realize your cage has been filled with all of us all along." Before he could reply, she added, "Now I'm changing the subject, and you're letting me. Are you going to the Winter Festival tomorrow?"
"Yes." His next official date with Zoya.
"Samar and I are going too." She said smilingly.
* * *"
Another few hours passed before Zoya finally rounded the corner. Her gaze skittered to him, an almost shy smile lighting her face.
"All done?" he asked.
"I am. Want to see?"
"Me! Me!" Priya jumped to her feet and clapped, waking the dog.
"The paint is still wet. You can look, but don't touch," Zoya said.
Currently the story of my life.
Priya raced past her and into the hall, where she squealed like a little girl who'd just found the present of her dreams underneath the Christmas tree.
Zoya, who'd remained in place, released a relieved breath, twin spots of pleasure darkening her cheeks. "I wasn't sure she'd like it. I mean..."
She met Asad's gaze as he straightened. Her pupils expanded as she took a step toward him. "You ready to go?"
He held out his hand and, without a moment's hesitation, she twined her fingers with his.
He nodded to his friend on the way out, then helped Zoya into the car. Night had long since fallen, the moon half-hidden by clouds with no stars in sight.
Trees whizzed by as he sped down the road. "We need to talk, baby."
"I know," she replied softly.
"We haven't been honest with each other, and it's putting a strain on us both."
"You've lied to me?"
"No. Absolutely not." He frowned at her. "You should know better."
Her shoulders hunched in, and she rubbed at her face. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Better. "If this relationship is going to work, you have to tell me when you're scared about something. And I have to tell you the same. We have to rely on each other, Zoya, not on outside parties."
"Yes. You're right, again." She peered down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her skirt. "I wanted to be with you last night, so badly I nearly couldn't breathe."
"Why did you stop me?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.
"I was so afraid we'd have sex and the talking and sharing I've come to love so much would stop. And I worry the lack will be the death knell of our relationship."
"In case you haven't noticed," he said, tenderness welling in his chest, "I've enjoyed the talking and sharing, too."
"Really?"
"Really. You are ridiculous and weird, frustrating and challenging."
"Hey," she said with a frown.
"But you are the most entertaining person I've ever met and everything I learn about you makes me lo"like you more."
No damn way he'd almost dropped the L bomb.
"That's good," she said, "because I'd rather die than give up that part of our relationship."
He reached over, cupped her leg just above her knee. "Our relationship means a lot to me, too, baby."
Moonlight glinted off crystalline blue irises he couldn't help but fall in.
Honk.
A flash of another car's lights. Driving. Right.
"You just said the word 'Relationship' without vomiting. I'm impressed," she said. "But you mentioned fears of your own."
He nodded. "The more you come to mean to me, the more I'm certain I'm going to lose you, and I hate it. If you leave me, Zoya..."
"Now you're thinking the worst of me. You won't lose me, Asad. I'm yours forever."
46