Page 16 of Runaway in the Mafia
“Sì.”
Her smile lit up her face. “I’m happy you’re spending more time here.”
She wouldn’t be if she knew why.
It took me an entire minute after the door clicked shut to release my breath.
Fuck.
Why the hell was I still smelling her when she’d taken the fragrance away?
CHAPTER EIGHT
AHANA
The door swung open, and a smooth, mellow scent rolled into the room. A soft and calculated footstep followed by the definitive thud of the door closing. My pulse rocketed to my throat.
What the hell is he doing in my room?
“I own it,” he answered my glare before sinking into the armchair across my bed.
You would think I’d be used to this arrogant, controlling shit. I’d had plenty of it growing up. I couldn’t even name a single Indian male who didn’t possess any of the characteristics named.
But the thing was, they didn’t make my skin go up in flames like this specimen did. Lounged on the chair that seemed to shrink to half its size with him in it, eyes on his phone, cigar in his other hand, like he planned to stay.Indefinitely.He should have made me go ice cold. Instead, he made me burn with a fever that was surely the beginning of a disease.
Indecision rattled in my mind. I didn’t even have to try to know there was no getting this man to leave my room. The only one moving was going to be me. An irrational stubbornness to defy him and fear for my personal safety went into battle.I should get out of this room.In what world was it okay for a man, nearly a stranger, to be alone in a room with a woman?In a bedroom.It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching me or even looking at me. If Maa saw me like this… or Rajesh… that was out of the question. I’d be beaten to death.So walk out.But the Papa’s girl in me, the one who’d inherited his stubbornness, refused to give in. He may have owned the house, but I’d been there first. With an annoyed huff, I slouched lower on my bed, my head against the headboard, my legs stretched out, and my laptop cradled on my lap.
For three heartbeats, I stared at it, the words blurring before my eyes. The graphics I was making had all my attention. Until this man had stepped into my personal space and sucked my brain cells into him. He was a distraction I didn’t need.
I glared at his bent head. His cut-edged jaw was distracting. His sharp nose and narrow face weren’t helping. A sage suit and a white button-down hugged his body. I’d caught a glimpse of cognac brown shoes when he’d stepped in. A sage and black tie brushed the tan buckle of his belt.A man who dressed to perfection should never be trusted.But one thing was off. His hair was yet again all tousled. Like he’d just got off his bed or a woman had had her hands buried in it. I preferred to believe the former. Didn’t care to examine the direction of my thoughts.
I dragged my gaze back to my work. I couldn’t remember what it was about. Calculatedly, I scrolled up and down. Not sure which way to head. How could I not know what I was doing?
Another sneak peek, and I found pure perfection. From his long, tanned fingers scrolling lazily on his phone to the leather watch on his light, hair-dusted wrist. There was somethingabout a man’s wrist that made my pulse tick down south. His wrist was all man. Powerful. Capable. Commanding. A master at working it.
You’re such a slut, Ahana.
I almost gasped at the painful memory. His gaze pulled up from the phone and came to me.Hey Bhagwan!The green in his eyes sparked, reflecting the sage in his suit. If this man dressed in green, there would be peace on earth to worship him.
“It doesn’t suit you.” Where did those words even come from?
One eyebrow cocked up.
I wasn’t backing out now and nodded towards his suit. “Green.”
He lounged back, put one elbow on the arm of the chair and spread his legs wide, like he was preparing for a long chat. Why did I even engage him? He uttered only one word, but his slow, deep timbre touched the light hair on my skin. “Yeah?”
I nodded.
He rolled his gaze over me, like a slow Swedish hot stone gliding on my skin, from my tan, painted toes to my stretched-out legs and toffee-coloured, short dress. When his gaze finally touched on my face, it burned like I lay naked on the bed rather than in a dress that decently came up to my mid-thigh. His tongue rolled out and licked his lower lip. “Brown does.”
I didn’t know if he meant that he’d look good in brown or I’d look good on him. I didn’t want to dive into that. But just to be sure he didn’t have any misconceptions, I set him right. “We are not talking about me.” It should have come off as snappy or confident. It came out all low and needy. Like I wanted him to talk about me.I thought we were going to ignore this, Ahana.
“I beg to differ.”
A sharp, rude laugh escaped me. “Begging and you match together as much as nuts and gum.”
“I agree.”What?“But begging and you are meant to be. Preferably on your knees. In front of me.” I blinked. Shook my head. I couldn’t believe he’d said that. I must have imagined it. Hot itchiness filtered into the room. My breathing turned heavy. His gaze sparked, like I’d asked him to take me.
