Aditi snorted with laughter, and for the moment, Raj’s world was okay… on the surface at least. Because even as Nayna gently took care of his sister’s heart, he knew her mind had to be spinning, her thoughts a roar.
It was only when Aditi’s friend Harlow arrived that he and Nayna had time alone. First, however, he shook hands with the tall and lanky boy who had grown significantly in confidence over the summer and who was turning out to be a young man Raj liked. Even better, both Jitesh and Sangeeta Sen were warming up to him. It helped that Harlow Chan kept his stick-straight black hair cut with ruthless neatness, wore wire-rimmed spectacles, dressed in pants that actually fit instead of hanging halfway down his butt, and was unfailingly respectful.
Aditi had also let it slip that, while Harlow had a year of high school to go, he’d already been offered an academic scholarship to the city’s major university on the basis of his previous year’s exam results. The boy had deferred the scholarship because he wanted to have his senior year.
Jitesh Sen had thawed enough at that to grumble, “Well, I suppose it’s good he’s not an idiot.”
High praise from a protective Indian father on his seventeen-year-old daughter’s friend who happened to be a boy—and who might end up more if the two kept on hanging out.
“Nayna.” Harlow’s face cracked into a huge smile when Nayna walked back into the room, having left to wash off a bit of sauce that had dripped onto her top when she ate a few of Aditi’s fries.
“Hey, you. When did you get so tall?” Nayna hugged her best friend’s stepbrother; she’d told him that ísa was a huge reason why Harlow was so well-adjusted. ísa Rain had basically adopted Harlow when their parents divorced, making sure the young teen he’d been at the time wasn’t forgotten in the mess.
ísa, Raj suddenly realized, would always be in his life. She was going to marry one of his closest friends. Which meant that even if all this crashed and burned, Nayna too would always be in his life. It would be the worst private hell he could imagine. To see her and to know she wasn’t his. Perhaps to see her move on with another man?
His gut wrenched.
“We have to go now,” Aditi stage-whispered to Harlow after a few minutes. “Raj bhaiya and Nayna bh—” She cut herself off at the last minute, but Raj knew the word she’d almost said. The word for a big brother’s wife.
Recovering quickly, she said, “They have big deal stuff to talk about.”
Alone with Nayna at last, Raj said, “I’ll fix it.” He had no desire for Nayna to be manipulated into marriage with him when she’d fought so determinedly for freedom and when marriage was a topic she simply never raised on her own.
Eyes shining, Nayna looked up at him and brushed his hair off his forehead. “You’re right in what you said to Adi—your dad’s just come out of surgery,” she said. “The doctor said we’re not supposed to stress him. Just go along with it.”
“He’s a stubborn man. Can give a mule a run for its money when he wants to be pigheaded.”
Nayna’s lips twitched. “Like father, like son?”
His glare had zero affect.
“Don’t worry right now,” said the woman who owned him body and soul. “You’re already carrying too much on your shoulders.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips soft and sweet to his, her hand cradling the back of his neck.
He hadn’t made love to her for over a week now, and he ached for her. So much that after he drove his mother and sister home so his father could rest, he snuck out to Nayna’s apartment and woke her up. She was still warm from bed when she opened the door, strands of her hair sticking to her cheek.
And she walked into his arms without hesitation.
He carried her to bed, stripped them both naked, then spent long moments simply stroking his hand over her skin while she did the same with him. Their kisses were deep and tender, the way she spread her thighs so he could push into her a gift. He went in slow, pulled back as slow, heard her breath hitch.
So he did it again, in no hurry to lose her hands on his skin, her voice whispering his name.
“Raj… The way you move…” A shiver rippled over her, her thighs clenching around his body.
He’d gained control since their first time together, rocked her through it, then caressed her until her back arched against his in sinuous feminine beauty, her body holding on tight to his as she melted with pleasure.
“Raj,” she said again, her eyes heavy-lidded and her fingers brushing his lips. “My Raj.”
The hour he spent with her grounded him in a way nothing else could.
She was in his blood and he’d marry her a thousand times over if she’d have him. But if she agreed to his father’s demand, he’d never know if she would’ve chosen him of her own free will—the lack would forever be a shadow on their lives together. And if they didn’t do this and his father died before anything was decided, Raj would never forgive himself.
42
The Boss’s Girl
Nayna’s parents visited Raj’s father in hospital as soon as Jitesh Sen felt ready to receive more visitors. It was as obvious as the nose on Nayna’s face that the Sharmas and the Sens genuinely got along—especially when it came to talking about their misbehaving offspring.
“All these modern ideas,” one said. “As if they’re the first couple to ever meet!”
“I blame it on television,” another added. “I mean, the dramas! And always rebellion, made to look so romantic.”
At which point, the four of them would inevitably fall into a spirited discussion about their shared passion for said dramas with rebellious characters. At least their conversations were joyful. From what Nayna had seen of Komal and Navin lately, their hospital reconciliation had quickly faded into a kind of stiff formality. The two put up a front for Mr. Sen, but—according to Raj—were otherwise living separate lives.
“Navin’s moved into our old game room,” he’d told her. “They aren’t screaming at each other, and Navin’s home more to help with everything, but I think the damage is done.” A shake of his head. “Far as I can figure, both of them broke more than one promise they’d made to each other. Why make promises at all if you’re not going to keep them?”
If Nayna hadn’t already been terrifyingly in love with him, that harsh question would’ve done it.
“Well,” Nayna’s grandmother said to her not long afterward, while the two of them were alone in Nayna’s apartment. Her parents had dropped Aji off while they went on a big shopping trip to get some things for Madhuri’s wedding—including an outfit for their father, who usually never wore a suit but had opted for a full sherwani for the auspicious occasion.
Of course, he’d also added, “Now that your wedding with Raj is also arranged, I might as well get both suits at once.”
Nayna had allowed the statement to pass unchallenged; it was far too soon to rock the boat, what with Mr. Sen still in hospital.
“What is it, Aji?” She looked up from her laptop where she’d been running a search for Madhuri. Her sister had asked her to hunt down a specific cake topper she’d seen in a magazine a decade earlier.
Nayna had begun to see tiny brides and grooms everywhere she looked, but so far there was no sign of a sari-clad princess and an Indian prince down on one knee. Nayna was starting to imagine gluing pieces of various toppers together to Frankenstein it.
“How about a muffin to go with your tea?” she asked before her grandmother could reply. “I made a batch yesterday.” She’d managed to find out Raj’s favorite flavor—banana walnut—then spent her Saturday morning in the kitchen. It was a need inside her, to look after him, to ease the load in even a small way.