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His head snapped around to hers instantaneously, his voice rolling through her like black fury.

‘Say that again?’

‘Leo—I told you about her—is supposedly with him.’

‘How?’ The word was like a whip, lashing against Isla’s skin. His gaze was boring into her, pinning her to the spot.

‘They met in Chile. The day after you and I...’ She tailed off awkwardly.

A myriad expressions chased through Nikhil’s rich eyes and, to Isla’s chagrin, none of them seemed good. But the one she recognised most of all was fury—with her.

‘And you’ve known all this time?’

‘No.’ Isla shook her head. ‘I only found out last week—from my mother. Please, Nikhil. Leo means everything to me. If she’s in danger, then you have to tell me.’

He glowered at her for another long moment and everything in her was sounding an alarm. And then, finally, he spoke—as though through gritted teeth.

‘Daksh was not the one who wielded that knife. Your stepsister is in no danger from him. At least, not physically.’

Relief coursed through her, but she still had to understand.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? At least, not physically?’

He looked as if he wasn’t going to answer again, and then he opened his mouth.

‘It means he would not physically hurt her. But he is no more capable of an emotional connection than I am. My brother is certainly not to be relied upon.’

And there was no mistaking the bitter tone to Nikhil’s voice. But there was something else too. Something less easy to recognise.

Isla nudged at it, as if with her toe.

Hurt. That was what she thought she could see.

Whatever had happened between Nikhil and his brother had left Nikhil bitter, and hurt. Yet surely there was no reason for her to find that as interesting as she did? There was no reason for her to cling onto it as though it was another rare find, another precious piece of the Nikhil puzzle.

‘So Leo isn’t at risk of any harm with Daksh?’

‘No,’ he bit out. ‘You need have no fear over her physical well-being.’

‘Well, she’s a big girl. In terms of her emotional well-being, she can look out for herself.’

And Isla didn’t know if they were still talking about her stepsister.

For another few moments they lapsed back into the same heavy silence. Nikhil’s face was set as she made her shaking fingers get back to their work of tending to the laceration on his arm.

She wondered if the cuts on his heart—the deep wounds he pretended didn’t exist—could ever be treated as easily. But she didn’t dare push him further. She’d clearly already probed too much, and he’d made it perfectly clear that it wasn’t any of her business.

As much as that stung, she needed to respect that. For her own sake as much as anything.

Working quickly and efficiently, Isla finished tending to the wound, applying the strips and dressing it so that it didn’t risk opening up under the white shirt of his uniform. Finally, satisfied it was done, she stepped back.

‘Okay, you’re all clear.’

It was harder than it should have been to sound cheerful. And harder still when he stood and turned to face her.

She fought to keep her eyes from travelling down from his chin.

‘And thank you for telling me about Daksh. You...didn’t have to, but I am grateful.’

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