AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m going to—” she looked up, and his gaze met hers, steady and reassuring even in the dark that surrounded them “—set you to rights, okay? I need to leave soon but we can stay here, like this, for a little longer.” He traced the edge of her mouth with a thumb. “Yes, Angel?”
His tenderness threatened to tear her apart. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to stay in this darkness with him, breathing in the scent of their sex in the air, cocooned in the warmth and secure embrace of his body. “I’m fine,” she said, finally. “Do you mind if I leave first? Like I said, I don’t want to be found on this floor.”
He acknowledged her request with a nod. Slowly, he released his hold on her, his hand moving away from her thigh. When he pulled out of her, Anya drew in a sharp breath at the slight sting. But it had nothing on the emptiness she felt.
He noted her discomfort, this man who seemed to miss nothing, planted a soft kiss on her lips and then righted her clothes with a gentleness that made tears pound at the back of her throat. When he released her from the fortress of the wall and his body, she swayed, her thighs trembling. Instantly, he pulled her toward him until she was leaning into him again.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his hand on her back, his tone tender.
Time passed too swiftly then, and Anya knew she’d get into real trouble—the kind of fuss that her older brothers specialized in—if she didn’t get away now. One look at her and they would know everything that had just happened—both the grief that was already inching its way back around her heart and the thoroughly reckless but desperately needed pleasure she’d just indulged in.
With a stranger at that.
With the entire production team two doors away.
She pushed out of his hold and he immediately let her go. Her knuckles tightened around the strap of her bag as if it could somehow steady her fluctuating emotions. Hand on the doorknob, she turned toward him and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. The stubble tingled her already sensitive lips. “Thank you, Simon, for giving me what I needed. For seeing the real me. I’ll never forget...tonight,” she amended at the last minute.
And then she was walking through the corridor, into the lift and jumping into a taxi without looking back. She trembled all the way home but there was not a ray of regret inside her for what had happened. Her body ached in a way she wanted to cherish and her smile lingered for a long time even after she let herself into her flat.
Even after she sank into her sheets without having showered, because she wanted to smell Simon and his masculine scent all over her skin for a few more hours.
Today, she’d lived a little.
Today, she’d carved a moment’s happiness for herself.
Today, she’d trusted herself and the universe and she vowed to try to be a little braver every day.
CHAPTER THREE
ANYAHIDOVERthe next three days.
Not licking her wounds in private so much as bracing herself for the next time she’d run into...her daughter. The next time when she couldn’t simply run away, but would have to chat with her as if she were any other actress for whom Anya was designing a wardrobe.
For a hot minute, she considered telling her brother Virat that she had to drop out of this project. He wouldn’t like it one bit—his creative vision and hers clicked so well usually—but he’d respect her wishes.
But for one thing, it would bring all of her family’s scrutiny down on her head. Despite the passive-aggressive dynamics of her brothers’ relationship with their parents, in this one thing, they all seemed to agree unanimously. That Anya must be protected, even if it meant invading her privacy and trashing the boundaries she’d tried very hard to set with her interfering family.
And for another thing, how long would she hide? What if Meera became a staple of the industry? How could she bear to lose the little time she had to get to know the girl who held a piece of her heart?
The fourth evening, she arrived at the bungalow that had once belonged to her grandparents. Now it was the home of her brother Virat and his wife, Zara, where Zara was throwing a small, intimate party.
She’d show her face, play with her toddler nephew and her infant niece, chat with her other sister-in-law, Naina, about the screenplay she was working on, smile at her parents, hug her brothers and leave.
The first half hour of the party, Anya did just that—she caught up with her family and the four close friends Zara had invited. She was even proud of herself—showing her face in polite society as if she were a normally functioning adult, when two unprecedented things had taken place not four days ago in her life.
The last time something like that had happened she’d fallen pregnant at eighteen by a man nine years older than her—a fortune hunter who’d specifically targeted her and then left her when he’d realized he wasn’t going to get a slice of the Raawal pie—and she’d retreated into her shell for the next few years. Of course, giving birth, almost dying and then giving up her baby girl had been the most traumatic experiences of her life.
But after the thoroughly scandalous episode she’d indulged in, she felt as if she had finally wrested back some control over her own life. She even felt a little hopeful for her own future.
Lounging on the divan, Anya was laughing at something Vikram and his wife, Naina, said when Meera walked into the sitting lounge.
Dressed in a cotton crop top and high-waisted jeans, her smile so broad that it hurt Anya to look at the girl’s face, Meera was palpably excited as she waved at everyone.
Fisting her hands at her sides, Anya fought the urge to run away again. A fake smile pasted to her lips, she forced herself to draw breaths in, counting them in her head. She almost had it together when a dark figure, so broad and tall that Anya blinked, materialized behind Meera.
It washim...the stranger who’d given her a slice of paradise.
Who’d belonged to her for a tiny blink of time.
