[naruto9211]

Ayesha’s phone beeped, dragging her out from the world of her data. Her
office materialized, her desk, the computer screens with the command
prompt and all the clever code she’d written, her windows, the darkness
beyond them.

The alert on her phone said, “Dinnertime.”

She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a protein bar. Her mother would
be angry if she saw Ayesha eating one of these for dinner, but she didn’t care.

She just wanted to work.

Absently chewing on the cardboard-y chocolate mixture, she made small
adjustments and refinements in her algorithm. It was good. Maybe some of
her best work.

Her phone buzzed, and the screen lit with a text message from Aditya.

Is that your office on the 3rd floor with the lights on at 6PM on a Saturday?

She dropped her protein bar and stood up to look out the window. 


A familiar form leaned against a lamppost in the parking lot. She immediately dodged out of view, too humiliated to be seen.

Her phone buzzed with another message. Come down. We need to talk.

She sank back into her chair. This was it.

He’d come to end it. 

Her thumbs shook as she composed a short response.


 Just tell me via text message.

I want to talk to you in person.

She threw her phone onto her desk and crossed her arms. 

She was tired and embarrassed. 
She didn’t need to witness the dissolution of their
arrangement in person. 
Or were there additional things he wanted to talk to
her about? More things she’d done wrong?

Maybe she shouldn’t have apologized to his mom? 
Had that been creepy
and intrusive?
Why couldn’t she get anything right?

She ran her hands over her hair and attempted to slow her breathing. 

Did she have to apologize for apologizing?

The phone buzzed yet again, and she flipped it over with the tip of a
trembling finger so she could read it.

I’m going to stay out here until you come down.

She rubbed at her temple. 
Her head throbbed, and sweat glued her clothes
to her body. She needed to go home and shower.

Might as well get this over with.

She tossed her once-bitten protein bar into the trash, saved her work, and
powered down her computer. Tossing her purse over her shoulder, she shut
the lights off and left the room.

The empty halls and low-lit cubicles usually comforted her. Tonight, they
made her lonely and sad. As she strode to the elevator, she wondered how
long it would be before this feeling went away. A week? A month? She
wished everything could go back to normal—like before she’d met Aditya.
These highs and lows in emotion were exhausting.


The click of her heels on marble echoed through the reception area, and
she made herself push the front doors open and walk outside.

Aditya shoved away from the lamppost and dug his hands into his
pockets, looking like his usual gorgeous self in the glow of the streetlights.

“Hi, Ayesha.”

“Hi, Aditya.” Her chest tightened and began aching. 

She drummed her fingers against her thighs until 
she caught him watching and fisted her hands.

“My mom told me you stopped by the shop.”

That was it. She’d really done the wrong thing. Her heart plummeted, and
her face threatened to crumple. 

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t bear knowing I’d hurt her.

 I never mean to hurt people, but I do it all the time. I’m working on fixing this,
but it’s so complicated, and I just—I just—I just . . .”

He stepped toward her until they were separated by an arm’s length.

“What are you talking about?”

She stared down at her shoes. She was so tired. When would this be over
so she could go home and sleep? “You’re angry. Because I went to see your
mom. That’s intrusive.”

“I’m not, actually.”

She lifted her gaze and found him watching her with sad eyes. “Then . . . I
don’t understand.”

“As your practice boyfriend, shouldn’t I be here? It’s getting late.”

She took a surprised breath. “After everything I said at your mom’s, you
still want to have a practice relationship with me?”

“Yeah. Things are complicated with my family, and I should have prepped
you ahead of time. I’m sorry I didn’t think to do that.”

When he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, she was
too stunned to speak. He was apologizing to her?

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

She tensed at his nearness, unsure what to do. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t remem—oh, I ate something right before you texted.”

“What was it?”

She was not telling him. He’d probably act like her mother and chastise
her. That was the last thing she needed right now.

He brushed his fingers along her jaw before clasping her face in his palm
and tipping her head back. A butterfly-light kiss teased her lips. “You smell
like chocolate. Did you have candy for dinner, Ayesha?”

“Not candy. A protein bar. There are vitamins and stuff in it.”

“You’re coming with me. Don’t argue. I’m going to feed you.” He walked
her to her car, which was parked not far away, and by that time, she was
simply too tired to protest.

The doors unlocked when they sensed the key fob in her purse, and she sat
in the passenger seat. She fumbled for the seat belt, but he caught it and
buckled her in with sure movements. He got in on the other side and pulled
out of the parking lot.

The motion of the car lulled Ayesha into a drowsy half slumber, and it was
several minutes before she realized he’d left downtown and headed across the highway. “Where are we going?”

“Back to my mom’s.”

A surge of adrenaline burned the sleepiness out of Ayesha’s head, and she
sat up in her seat, wide awake. “What? Why?”

“There’s a lot of food there. My mom had me cook for like a hundred
people last night.”

She adjusted her glasses as her heart started ramping up for takeoff. “I’d
really like to go home.”

“Do you have anything to eat at your place?”

“I have Greek yogurt. I’ll eat it. I promise.”

He shook his head as he released a tight huff of breath. “I’ll feed you quick
and then take you home.”

Before she could think up a suitable response, he pulled into the driveway
of the little gray house. When he opened the door, she could hear the same
music carrying faintly on the wind. She gripped her seat belt like a lifeline.

“I can’t handle the TV tonight,” she confessed in a pained whisper. After
last night, her usual tolerance was gone. She’d fall apart and scare everyone.

Aditya would change his mind about the arrangement—she still couldn’t
believe he didn’t want to cancel. Or he’d start walking on eggshells around
her, which was worse.

“Hold on a minute.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and typed in
something on the screen.

Within moments, the music stopped.

“You made them turn it off? Won’t your mom and grandma be unhappy
they can’t watch their shows?” Her entire body flamed with embarrassment.
She despised it when people had to make changes for her.

He gave her a funny look. “It’s just TV.”

“I don’t like it when people have to act differently for me.”

“We don’t mind.” He walked around to her side, opened the door, and held
his hand out. “Will you come in?”

[naruto9211]

When Ayesha’s small hand landed in his palm, the hard knot of tension in
Aditya’s gut loosened, but an awful brew of guilt and sadness
continued to eat at him.

She looked terrible. Her bun was off-center, and messy strands framed her
drawn face. Her normally bright, expressive eyes were dim, swollen, and
shadowed. His heart dipped when he realized she must have cried a lot to
make them that way. He’d made her cry.

This was not his Ayesha.

Well, the sweatiness of her hand was all Ayesha. He squeezed gently and led
her to the front porch.

When he opened the door and prepared to enter, she stiffened and dug in
her feet. “I forgot to bring something. Google says I’m supposed to bring
something. Let me go and—”

“It’s fine, Ayesha.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and propelled her
into the house.

Inside the entryway, she shut her eyes and took a breath. He could see her
absorbing the silence, feel her body relaxing against his arm.

“You know you can always tell me when things bother you, right? Like the
TV last night . . . or the club last week.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, but instead of looking at him, she stared off to
the side, suddenly tense all over again. “Did Sunny say something to you?”

Aditya hesitated to answer. Something told him it was extremely
important to her that he didn’t know, so he did what he’d learned from his dad even though he hated it. He lied. “Only that the noise and crowd were too much for you. Why didn’t you tell me? I wish you had.”


“I already told you I don’t like it when people have to act differently for
me.”

“We could have done something else,” he said in exasperation. The last
thing he wanted was to hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

“Why are there oranges here?” she asked, indicating the plate of oranges
next to the incense sticks and bronze Ganesh statue on the table in the
entryway.

“Don’t change the subject.”

She sighed. “Fine. It embarrasses me. A lot.”

All that self-torture . . . because it embarrassed her to admit she was
different? His insides melted down, and he grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“Can you tell me about the oranges now?”


He smiled at her single-mindedness. “It’s an offering for the Gods.
As a scientist type, she had to think this was silly. He did, too, but it
was something Granny and his mom liked to do.

A small smile played over her lips. “Do you give them other kinds of food,
too? I’d get tired of fruit all the time, myself. How about sweets and chocolates?”

He laughed. “You’ve had enough candy today.”

“What do you do with the fruit now that it’s been offered? I assume the
god don’t actually rise and consume it . . .”

“We eat it. I’m not entirely clear on how long you’re supposed to wait, but
at least a hour or so, I think.”

“Hm.” She inspected the Ganesh statue, angled her head so she could see

behind it. Judging by her expression, she was fascinated,

“Do you feel like you’ve entered the set of an Balaji Tele-serial drama? Is that what’s going on here?” he asked.

“This is better. This is real life.” She pointed to the box of incense hidden
away behind the statue. “Can I light one? Will you show me how to do it?
I’ve always wanted to.”

“Does it take very long?” she asked with a frown.
The corner of his mouth tipped up sheepishly. “I don’t think so, no. Let’s
go say hi to my mom and grandma, and then I’ll feed you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She followed him through the dining room and into the kitchen where
Supriya and Shailaja were cleaning rice, shredded mint and coriander, and
barbecued chicken into large bowls. They looked to be back on speaking terms.

Considering their track record of enemies one day, best friends the next, that
was about right. Granny and his mom were slicing up heaps of mangoes at the informal seating area where they did all their eating—

the formal dining table was for presentation only. 

Granny was dressed in her favorite green saree, and his mom wore a Traditional Marathi saree even though it wasn’t
holiday season.


“Hi Granny, Mom,” Aditya said.


His mom nodded at him before considering Ayesha. “Welcome back.
Dinner’s ready soon. Sit and eat, ah?”

Ayesha smiled, but her grip on his hand was fierce. “Sure, thank you. It
looks good.”

“These two are Supriya and Shailaja. They’re not twins,” 
he said, bringing her to the kitchen island that was covered with food stored in brand-new Pyrex containers. 

“Supriya—the one with that red stripe in her hair, God, when did
you get that?—is an interior decorator, and Shailaja is a physical therapist.”

“Hi, Ayesha,” they said at the same time. Mom must have told them about
Ayesha’s apology because it looked like they wanted to make a fresh start.
Ayesha gave a tiny wave. “Hi.”

“Is Anu here?” he asked.

“Nope. More work stuff,” Shailaja said.


“On a Saturday,” Supriya added with a sneer.

“Because people work—”

“On Saturdays—”

“All the time.”

The sisters faced one another and traded knowing glances.

Aditya whispered in Ayesha’s ear, “They’ve been finishing each other’s
sentences since they were little. I think they’re aliens.”

Ayesha’s lips trembled into another smile, and she leaned into him. Poor shy
girl. His family had to be overwhelming for her, and this wasn’t even all of
them. He tightened his hand around hers and fought the desire to kiss her.

Something about the way she turned to him like he was her safe place
satisfied caveman needs Aditya hadn’t known he possessed.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Where are pinky and chikki?”

“Upstairs doing homework. They’ll come down when they’re hungry.

They both have tests soon.”

“They’re the two youngest,” he explained to Ayesha. “Chikki aka Chitra is the baby. She’s a second year B.com at St Xaviers.”

“I’m going to forget everyone’s names.” She looked so worried—Aditya
melted a little. Why did she care? These people couldn’t be special to her.
They were just his family.

“That’s okay. I wish I could.”

“Very funny, Aditya,” Shailaja said with a roll of her eyes. “You only have to
remember me. I’m a PT, so if you get carpal tunnel or something, you know
who to look for. Posture is everything.”

“Why couldn’t you be a doctor, then, Shailu?” his mom asked as she peeled her tenth mango. “All I wanted was a doctor in the family, and not one of you could do that for me.”


“Ayesha’s a doctor,” Aditya said with a grin.


Her eyes rounded into giant buttons. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You have a PhD. That makes you a doctor. And you went to
the ISB, the best college for economics in the INDIA, probably
the world. You graduated as topper of your batch.”

As he’d known would happen, his mom perked up with interest. “That’s
fantastic.”


Ayesha blushed, bringing much needed color to her cheeks. “How did
you . . .”

“Google stalking.”

Her eyes searched his, and a surprised smile hinted at the corners of her
mouth. “You stalked me?”

He shrugged. It was his turn to feel awkward now.

“Okay, lovebirds, dinner’s ready. Come eat,” Supriya said. She set down a
bowl filled with steaming hot rice in front of Granny and kissed her temple like she would a baby.


Once they’d seated themselves at the table, Aditya watched as Ayesha
carefully mimicked Supriya’s food preparation ritual, pickled mango and salad, and fish curry to her plate of  rice.

“Have you ever had this before?” he asked.

She shook her head absently as she mixed everything together and took a
bite. Her eyes opened wide, and she grinned as she covered her mouth.

“You’re a good cook.”


“Aditya is very good with his hands,” his mom said with a proud nod.

Supriya rolled her eyes before she smirked suggestively and asked Ayesha,
“Do you agree? Is he ‘good with his hands’?”

His mom scowled at Supriya, but Ayesha merely smiled and nodded. 
“I think so.”


Supriya arched her eyebrows and sent Aditya an is she for real? look.

As dinner progressed, Aditya watched Ayesha through a new lens provided
by his recent discovery. He didn’t notice so much when it was just the two of
them, but she had trouble with eye contact. She rarely spoke unless someone
asked her a direct question, and then her answers were short and to the point.

When she listened, however, her focus was the kind of stuff she probably used on complex economic problems. She frowned, hanging on every word like it was of utmost importance.

These people mattered to her because they mattered to him.

“Where did you grow up, Ayesha?” his mom asked after they’d moved to mangoes.

“Pali hills and Bandra. My parents still live in bandra,” Ayesha provided.

His mom’s eyebrows climbed at the mention of the wealthiest pin code in
Mumbai. “Do you like babies?”

Aditya almost dropped his fruit, and his voice was gruff with horror


when he said, “Mom.”

She shrugged innocently.


“You don’t have to answer that,” he said to Ayesha.

She met his eyes like she hadn’t with everyone else. Her facial muscles
relaxed, but the intensity of her concentration didn’t. Her beautiful mind
focused on him. Aditya admitted to himself he loved it.

Ayesha lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know if I like babies. I haven’t been
around that many. My parents want grandchildren, though. My mother,
mostly.”

“That has to be why she keeps setting up blind dates for you,” Aditya
said.

Ayesha nodded. “I think so.”

“Meddling mothers.”

At his comment, Ayesha’s lips curved into a smile, and her eyes shined. He
forgot what they’d been talking about. If he couldn’t kiss her soon, he would
go mad.

“When you get to my age,” his mom said, crossing her arms over her
chest, “you want to play with babies. It’s natural.”

Supriya jumped to her feet. “Help me with the dishes, Ayesha?”

“Sure, I’d love to help,” Ayesha said. 

“Is there a particular way you do it?”


“Just whatever way gets them clean.”

Shailaja cleared the table as Supriya and Ayesha piled things into the sink.

 His mom and Granny stared at him with serious expressions. 
He braced himself for something bad.

“She won me at the shop today. It’s important to know how to admit when
you’re wrong. You should keep her,” Mom said in Marathi.

He shook his head and thinned his lips. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why?”

“We’re too different. She’s really smart and makes loads of money.”

“You’re smart,” his mom insisted.

He rolled his eyes.


“You’re not like your dad wanted, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart.
And you don’t make as much because you’re busy helping me at the shop. I
told you I don’t need you anymore. You let so many opportunities pass
because of me. I don’t want that for you, Aditya, and I don’t want you to
lose this girl, either. She’s a good one. Keep her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. She likes you. You like her.”

If he had less control, he would have pointed out his mom’s relationship
with his dad, but that was hitting below the belt. His dad loved his mom—in
his own way. But he also loved cheating. Aditya would never understand
why his mom took his dad back every single time.

“Just promise to try, all right? I like this one,” his mom said.

Aditya could have laughed. Of all the girls he’d ever brought home, she
liked the one he couldn’t have. His client. His rich, highly educated, beautiful client, who was paying him to help her learn how to get someone better.


“You’re just saying that because she’s doing dishes.”

Aditya knew the way to his mom’s heart, and it wasn’t food. It was
cleaning, doing dishes. He didn’t have to do dishes because he cooked. For
whatever reason, none of the women in this house cooked. He’d had to learn
in order to survive.

“She doesn’t mind working,” his mom said. “That’s important.”
“Mmmmm,” Granny agreed.

For a moment, the three of them watched as Ayesha washed bowls, rinsed
them, and handed them to Supriya to dry. She’d rolled her sleeves up and
worked with great attention, listening and smiling distractedly as Shailaja
chatted with her.

“Take her home,” Granny said. “She looks tired.”


His mom nodded. “Take her back to her home.”

He pushed away from the table and went to wrap his arms around Ayesha’s
waist. Because he couldn’t resist, he ran his lips down her neck so she
shivered. The soapy sponge paused in midscrub, and her expression was
confused as she gazed at him over her shoulder. He slid a hand down her
delicate forearm and hijacked the sponge from her. He finished washing the
frying pan and the rest of the dishes with her in front of him, occasionally
pausing to kiss her ear, her neck, or her jaw.

Supriya slanted him a go get a room look as he handed her the last greasy bowl
—one of many that he’d made his mom promise never to stick in the
microwave again—and he could tell she was dying to say something dry and
caustic but was holding back because she didn’t want to embarrass Ayesha.

Ayesha’s eyelids had gone heavy, and her nails dug into the tile counter as
she tried unsuccessfully not to respond to him.

“Ready to go home?” he whispered.

She nodded.

They said their good-byes and piled into Ayesha’s car, and he pressed the
mini cooper's ignition button.


Before Ayesha could buckle her seat belt, he asked, “What are you seeing in
terms of living arrangements and frequency of visits?”

“What do most couples do when they’re in committed relationships?”

“They live together, and they see each other every day. Is that what you
want?” It was strange hearing himself say the words out loud. These were
things he’d spent his entire adult life avoiding, but with Ayesha, he might be
ready for them. If she wanted them, too.

She rubbed her cheek on her shoulder. “I want that, then. I have a guest
bedroom you can use. But if you’re uncomfortable staying with me, I
understand. Not all couples live in the same house.”

“What if I want to share your bed, Ayesha?” he asked in a low tone.

Despite how much he wanted to help her and prove he wasn’t his dad, he
wasn’t sure he could do this if sex was off the table. He wanted her too much.
Besides, most of her problems stemmed from lack of confidence. Bed was a
great place to work on that.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“That wasn’t the question. I know I don’t have to.”

Staring out the passenger window, she said, “My bed is open to you if you
want it, but you know where my skill levels are at. That hasn’t changed since
our last time together.”

He smiled at that. She sounded worried about pleasing him. Something his
clients almost never cared about.

“Let’s seal the deal.”

“Oh, all right.” She pulled a hand out from under her thigh and held it out
toward him.


“We’re going into a practice relationship. I think we should kiss on it.”
She locked eyes with him as her lips parted in surprise, and that was all the
invitation he needed. Leaning across the center divide, he kissed her. He
meant for it to be a seductive, slowly enflaming kind of kiss, but the sighing
sound she made drove him straight out of his mind. He took her mouth with
hungry strokes of his tongue. She wound her fingers through his hair, scbangd
them down his chest and abdomen, and tucked them into his jeans. Yes.
Finally, they could get back to checking boxes—

Knuckles rapped against the driver’s-side window. A muffled voice spoke
incoherent words.

He launched himself back into his seat before powering the window down.
Supriya crossed her arms and tapped her bare foot on the pavement before
she bent down, narrowed her eyes, and clearly mouthed the word pervert at
him. “Mom wanted me to remind you your headlights are lighting up Granny’s room so she can’t sleep.”


“Sorry, forgot. We’ll head home now.”

Peering into the car, she said, “Good night, Ayesha. Hope we see you again
soon.”

Ayesha swiped at the loose hairs falling over her face and cleared her throat
with a cough. “Good night, Supriya.”


She sent him one last  disgusting look and walked back into the house.
Seconds later, his phone lit up with rapid text messages from her.

Geez Aditya, go easy on her.

You’ll scare her away, and we all really like her.

Honestly, in the DRIVEWAY? What are you, 16?

He choked on a laugh and handed the phone to Ayesha so she could read the
messages.

She bit down on the tip of a fingernail as she grinned. “I’m not scared.”

He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and adjusted the
painfully stiff flesh rising against his zip. “Let’s get you home.”

He drove with gratuitous disregard of the law through the empty
residential streets, envisioning himself peeling her librarian clothes off and
pinning her against the wall, the floor—he didn’t care where.

It was going to be so good with Ayesha, spectacular even. He was going to
—he glanced at Ayesha, trying to decide what to do first, and his hopes
plummeted. He was going to carry her into her house and put her to bed.

In the few minutes since they’d left his mom’s, she’d fallen fast asleep.
Her head rolled to the side, and her glasses sat on her nose at a crooked angle.

She didn’t so much as flinch when her garage cranked open and her tires
squeaked over the marble floor.

He tried to shake her awake, but she didn’t react. Her breathing remained
deep and even, her body relaxed. With a sigh, he lifted her out of the car and
headed toward her bedroom—their bedroom as of tonight.

[naruto9211]

Ayesha awakened by slow breeze. She registered the sunlight on her face,
the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and Aditya’s delicious smell.

It was all around her, warm and concentrated, and she burrowed into the
sheets with a happy sigh.

A heavy weight over her side kept her from rolling the sheets around her
like a egg roll, and she frowned. What was that? She lifted the blankets and
stared in shock at the muscular arm wrapped around her waist. Her naked
waist. She’d slept in her bra and panties last night.

And she hadn’t gone through her night routine. She was covered in
nastiness. Her mouth. It was probably forming an ecosystem for antibiotic-
resistant strains of bacteria. She shot up in bed, her entire being focused on
running straight to the bathroom. Floss, brush, shower, pajamas. Floss, brush,
shower, pajamas.


Aditya yanked her back down and kissed her nape. “Not yet.”

“I’m gross. I have to get clean. I—”

He sucked on her neck and pulled her hips back as he rocked forward,
making her achingly aware of the firm flesh prodding against the backs of her
thighs through his boxers.

Her body went into total system failure. Her limbs weakened. Between her
thighs, she flushed and tingled with wanting. The intensity of her desire
frightened and embarrassed her. 

She needed to be in control of herself and her
body. Control was gone.

“Good morning.” His voice was a husky rasp that sent shivers down her
spine.

“G-good mor—” A hand dipped inside her bra and cupped her breast. 

He
stroked the nip until it ached and pinched, sending a burst of sensation straight
to her core. When he headed downward, smoothing a hand over her belly, her
stomach muscles clenched.


“I want to touch you here.” He palmed her mound with a bold grasp, and the
heat of his touch spread through the cotton of her panties, searing her.

She gripped his wrist, fully intending to pull him away, but her hands
refused to cooperate.

His forearm was firm with defined muscle, his skin
smooth, utterly distracting.

“Is that permission?” he whispered.

She’d given him permission last night.

 She wanted this, but she didn’t
know how to handle this side of herself. 

Her body told her to say yes. Her
mind told her to say no.

Her body won the fight, and her hips arched against his hand. He edged
the crotch of her panties aside. 

He kissed her nape as he traced the slick
entrance to her body with his fingertips. 

A sharp breath tore from her lungs.
Panic and pleasure collided.

“You’re wet already, Ayesha. You’re like a Ferrari. Zero to sixty in
Four seconds.”

“You like Ferrari's?”

 She tried desperately to cling to coherent
thought. She needed to think at all times, to weigh her actions and her words.

When she let go, she always made mistakes. She did the wrong thing, hurt
people, mortified herself.

He continued touching her lightly, trailing around and around her opening
in maddening circles.

 His teeth scbangd against her neck before he licked and
kissed her.

 Goose bumps spread over her skin.

“Yes, I like them. No, don’t get me one,” he said.

“Why not?” She rubbed her feet against his shins, dug her fingernails into
his arm. Push him away. Pull him closer.
Regain control. Let go.

“It doesn’t suit my lifestyle, and my mom would be very, very curious how
I got it.” 

He emphasized the word very with barely there strokes over her
clitoris. 

She spasmed and trembled at the edge of release.

He bit her earlobe.

 “You’re about to go off, aren’t you? That’s all it took.”

“It’s because I’ve been fantasizing about you ever since last Friday.” Oh
God, what had she just said?

He removed his touch and sat up. 

His expression was soft as he brushed
tendrils of hair away from her face. “What does Fantasy Aditya do?”

“Everything.”

He laughed before his eyes went intense.

 “Does he make you come with
his mouth? Real Aditya wants to do that.”

She squirmed as the need to please him warred with her inhibitions. That
was one thing Fantasy Aditya hadn’t done.

 “I’m more interested in giving
oral sex than receiving it.”

“Maybe we should work on it,” he said in an unusually subdued tone. 

“I’m
not the only guy who loves going down on women.”

She sank her teeth into her lip and fisted the sheets. Women. Plural. For a
regular man, that meant anywhere from one to ten, maybe twenty. For
Aditya . . . hundreds. It might even be thousands, for all she knew. A new
type of anxiety weighed down on her.

 Could she possibly measure up against
all of his past clients?

“I don’t want to disgust you.”

“You won’t.”

“How do I make it good for you? Are some women better at receiving oral
sex than others? What do they do?” She badly wanted to be good at it. 

She
wanted to blow all the others out of the water—but there had been so many of
them.

“What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” he asked in
bafflement.

“I just—I want—I need—I think—”

“No more thinking,” he said as he touched a thumb to her lips.

He ran warm hands from her shoulders down to her wrists, interlaced their
fingers and squeezed their palms together.

 Her muscles tensed as she worried
she wasn’t responding the right way. What was she supposed to do? Now that
she understood he wanted her to feel pleasure, she wanted to give it to him,
wanted to make him happy.


“Ayesha, you're  distracted .” His eyes searched hers, worried now.

“I’m sorry.” She felt the sweat between their hands and fingers and
winced. Her heart pounded. She was screwing this up.

He gathered her in his arms and held her, smoothing a hand through her
hair in slow sweeps.

 “This is because of oral sex? We don’t have to have it.”

Ayesha pressed her forehead to his neck and breathed in his scent. By slow
degrees, she relaxed into his embrace. “I’m very competitive.”

He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Okay, but how does that factor into
anything?”

“It means I want to please you more than all your other clients have.”

“Ayesha, I’m the one who’s being paid to please here.”

“I’m not paying you for sex anymore, remember?”

He made a frustrated growling sound and held her tighter.

 “What am I
going to do with you? I have you hot and naked in my arms, and you’re still
not ready.”

She sighed and rested against him. She idly traced the dragon scales on his
bicep. “We could floss, brush, shower, and dress.”

He threw the covers off. “Let’s do it, then.”

[naruto9211]

“Don’t you have any casual clothes?”

Aditya swept her damp hair to the side and kissed her neck as she
stared at her wardrobe, trying to make her clothing selection for the day.
“I didn’t need them when I started working, so I gave them all away,” she
said.

“You had them, though? Or were they all knee-length skirts and button-
downs?” As he spoke, his arms stole around her bathrobe-clad waist and
hugged her to his naked chest. Her body couldn’t decide if it wanted to relax
or stiffen.

She suspected he was seducing her. It was almost working. It was
definitely making her mind fuzzy, but that was a good thing. He was
distracting her from her headache and the fact that she was terribly off-
schedule today, something that normally filled her with irritation and
frustration until she could start over and do things right.

“They were skirts and button-downs. How do you know me so well?”
His hot breath fanned over her ear as he chuckled. “You are my favorite
puzzle lately. I want to see you in sundresses, Ayesha.”

“I don’t have any.”

“It’s Sunday. We could go shopping.”

She turned around, feeling a spike of anxiety at the thought of going out in
public, going somewhere new, and worst of all, trying on itchy, scratchy
clothes that were probably dusted from warehouse floors. 

“Can you make me sundresses?

I was serious when I said I wanted custom Aditya designs. 

I’ll have to get anything I buy seriously altered before I can wear it,
anyway.”

Instead of answering, he pulled a pink shirt off its hanger and inspected the
inside seams. “French seams. The fabric is . . .” He rubbed it between his
fingers. “It’s plain cotton.”

“I love cotton. Silk, too. I don’t mind synthetic fabrics like acrylic and
Lycra, as long as they’re soft, but I can’t stand crisp denim or wool or
cashmere.”

A pleased smile curved over his mouth as he continued to check out the
construction of her shirt. “My practice girlfriend might know more about
textiles than I do. Impressive.”

His compliment made her feel warm and bubbly, but her mind snagged on
her “practice girlfriend” title.

 She didn’t like it—namely the “practice” half—
but she knew she had to be realistic about what she could and couldn’t have.

Better to focus on the irony of her tactile defensiveness leading them to a
common interest. She restrained herself from reading off fabric types and
qualities like an encyclopedia.

He hung her shirt back up neatly and stepped in front of her, resting his
hands on her hips. “I really want you in sundresses, Ayesha. I love the pencil
skirts. They do fantastic things to one of my favorite parts of you, but they’ve
also been torturing me.”

“How? Why?”

“They don’t let me do this.” Watching her with heated eyes, he drew the
end of her bathrobe up. It made a brushing sound against his jeans as he bared her thighs to the cool air. His palm scbangd up the outside of her leg, paused at her hip, and reached behind her to squeeze her perfectly rounded ass.

The black curls between her thighs were visible, and she caught him
eyeing them darkly.

 Without asking, without hesitating, without giving her
time to think, he slipped his hand over her hip and down to her pelvis. 

Daring fingertips threaded through the hair and massaged the peak of her mound.


Her skin burned where he touched her, and her knees weakened. She
braced herself on his shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss her.

The taste of his clean mouth was heavenly, and a high-pitched sound
hummed from her throat as she kissed him back. She tried to kiss him as well
as he’d taught her, but she couldn’t concentrate. His fingers were doing
diabolical things to her. 

It was all she could do to stand, and she wasn’t doing
a good job of it. Each stroke of his fingers melted her a little more. 

She was starting to tremble.

Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. The
feel of her back sinking into the blankets brought her to reality. They
were finally going to do this. Sex. Without structure, without a plan. She was
going to be bad at it, and he’d have to show her what to fix, how to improve,
and she’d try very hard to take the criticism in stride even though it
humiliated—
He tore her bathrobe open, and his mouth fastened on her nipple, drawing
deeply. She arched into him with a gasp that turned into a moan when his
hand slid between her thighs again and stroked her clitoris. Her sex clenched so hard it hurt.


“Shhhhhh,” he whispered against her breast.

One long finger slipped into her, and grateful sighs and murmurs tumbled
from her lips. That was exactly what she needed. He worked a second finger
in, and the stretching sensation had her head falling back. No, this was what
she needed. 

Her heels dug into the bed as she pushed into the penetration. His
fingers eased in and out, curling against her to breathtaking effect.
When he removed his touch, she couldn’t bite back a protesting sound.

“Aditya, more, I—”

He lifted his glistening fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth.
The intensity of his eyes coupled with his devilish grin had her bunching the
blankets in her hands as her core tightened on itself.

The caresses resumed with deep, slow thrusts. It was good, so good, but he
wasn’t touching her where she needed it. Her hips writhed as she tried to
relieve the growing ache. 

When he withdrew again, she stroked her hands down her stomach
in rampant frustration, but her own touch did nothing to
excite her.

He gripped her knees, pulled them apart to bare her to his eyes. His
chest expanded on a sharp inhalation, and his dragon tattoo rippled. His throat worked on a loud swallow. “I should have known you’d have the prettiest little—”

“Aditya, don’t say it,” she said quickly.

He paused, considered her with a naughty glint in his eyes. “You mean . . .
pussy?”


Flames burned her face, and she wanted to hide inside herself.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “No wonder my mom likes you so
much. It’s very desi to be modest about sex. I didn’t even know the
correct marathi word for girl parts until I was twenty.”


Her face burned even hotter, and the blush spread down her neck to her
chest, touching everything. “That’s a cat. They purr and catch mice. Me—that part—it doesn’t—the image is so ridiculous—I can’t—”


“It’s a pussy, Ayesha, and it’s wet for me, and I want to eat it.” Focusing a
dark look between her legs, he traced her folds, dipped inside briefly, and
began circling the part of her that wanted him most. “And this, this is your
clit. It wants my mouth so bad it’s bright reddish pink. Put us both out of our misery, and let me taste you. 

If you hate it, I’ll stop.”

It hit her then that he truly wanted this, her. He liked what he saw. His
unabashed craving for her most private parts was real. And dirty. And . . .
exciting. A secret Ayesha woke up and stretched, drawn to Aditya and his
words.

“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it and I don’t respond like other
women?” She wanted to like it, wanted to orgasm for his mouth like so many
other women had, and because of that, her arousal started fading away as
performance anxiety took its place.

“If you don’t like it, then we’ll move on.” Running his hands down her
inner thighs, he spread her wider. The tip of his tongue pressed against his
gorgeous upper lip.

He bent down close to her wet flesh, making her nervousness spike to
heart-pounding levels, and took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to understand
your addiction to my smell. It’s a good thing you don’t smell like this
everywhere, though. I’d have a constant hard-on for you. I’m having enough
trouble as it is.”

A gentle closed-mouth kiss landed on her clitoris, and her entire body
stiffened. That was not what she’d expected.

“Hate it?” he asked.

“I—I . . .”

Another kiss, followed by a slow tasting. He hummed his approval and
covered her with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laved
her. Soft and warm and delicious. Ayesha’s body went limp as heat bloomed
inside her.

“I can tell you don’t like it,” he rasped. “Just let me . . .” His tongue
stroked into her, lapping at the moisture that flooded from her. “One last
taste.” He returned to her clitoris, scbanging his teeth against the sensitive
nerves before he kissed her again, sipped at her, licked her.

She buried her face in the blankets as pleasure concentrated low and deep.
His tongue was so clever, but release stayed just out of reach. This was too
new. Her body was in a state of shock from the sensations bombarding her.
When he stopped she was going to cry.

Two fingers worked into her, and her eyes rolled back into her head. He
began a steady rhythm as his tongue flickered over her, and she couldn’t
prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, she was riding his
hand, smothering his face with her pussy. 

That had to be bad. She told herself to stop. She couldn’t.

Somehow, she found her hands tangled in his short hair. Her body was
coiling tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now she could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into her.

“I’ll stop, Ayesha. Clearly . . .” His tongue rubbed over her fast and hard,
and she clenched helplessly around his fingers. “Clearly, you hate this.”

“Aditya.” That breathy, needy voice was hers. She didn’t care. She
rubbed her hungry flesh against his tongue, nearly sobbing when he took her
back into his mouth.

He sucked with perfect pressure, and she came apart with strong,
wrenching convulsions. He rode out the orgasm with her, dragging out the
pleasure with soothing flicks of his tongue. 

As the aftershocks spaced out, he pressed a parting kiss to her sex and rose over her to blanket her with his body. She buried her face against his chest, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she’d ever been.


She’d let him do that to her. She’d made all those sounds, lost all control.

“You came on me like a porn star, Ayesha. I almost spilled in my jeans.”

“Did it take me too long? Was that a lot of . . . work?” It discomforted her
that she’d been the only one to derive pleasure from that act. She much
preferred to be on the giving side of things.

He laughed softly. “I drew it out on purpose, Ayesha. You were sexy as
hell.” Peeling away from her, he sat back on his heels and extracted a small
foil from his pocket. “Do you want to?”

She pushed herself up, and the bathrobe slipped off her shoulders. She
stifled the reflex to cover her nudity but couldn’t bring herself to meet his
eyes. 

Her pulse was out of control. “Yes, I want to.” She took the foil from his
hand and tore it open with shaky fingers.


He got down from the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped his zip. His
muscles bunched and shifted, and the dragon tattoo winked at her as he
stepped free of his pants with masculine grace. This was Aditya in all of his
naked glory. He was perfection. Even that part of him.

Oh God, especially that part of him. His erection stood at attention, thick
and veined, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. She’d just
had the most intense orgasm of her life, but she wanted more. She wanted
that. It made her mouth water, and she’d never given a man oral sex.

She couldn’t remember how to breathe as he kneeled on the bed and
wrapped one of her hands around him. He was so hot, satiny soft, but rigid
underneath. Want, want, want. In any way she could. In whatever way he
liked.

“Ayesha, the look on your face.” His voice was hoarse, almost a groan. He
guided her fist up and down his length, saying, “This is my cock. When you
want it, when you need it, that’s the word I want you to use.”

Unable to speak, she nodded. Secret Ayesha loved the idea of demanding
his . . . cock . . . and him providing it, though she didn’t think she’d ever be
able to get that word past her lips. Not unless they were talking about farm
animals. Probably not even then.

“Do you want to put it on me?” he asked, indicating the forgotten condom
in her other hand.

She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Her hands weren’t steady, so she and Aditya ended up doing it together.

When they finished, he pulled her close, and she shivered at the feel of their
skin coming in contact. Her nipples grazed his chest, and his solid length
burned against her lower belly. He swept his hands up and down her back as
he angled his head, trying to catch her gaze.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She trained her eyes on the notch at the base of his throat and hunched her
shoulders forward. “I’m feeling very self-conscious.”

“We’re both naked.”

She didn’t know how to explain that it was on the inside that she was
feeling naked. If he looked into her eyes, he’d see all of her, the person she
kept hidden away. No one wanted to see that. This was supposed to be fun
and educational, not soul-baring.

He tipped her chin back, and she caught a glimpse of tender eyes before
she squeezed her own shut.

“Kiss me, please,” she said.

Warm lips took hers, tasting of her and him and sex. His hands grew
urgent as he caressed her. 
He grabbed her thigh and hooked her leg around his
hips, opening her to him. With a flex of his hips, he stroked over her sex.

 The friction sent blood pooling fast and hot.

“Now, Ayesha.”

She wrapped her arms around the barrel of his chest and pressed her lips to
his neck. “I’m ready.”

He lowered her to the bed, and his body covered her. He nuzzled against
her jaw and ear, pressed soft kisses to her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her lips. 

“You have to talk to me, okay? If something hurts, if you don’t like it, if
you want something more, if it’s perfect. Say everything.”

Eyes still shut, she said, “I’ll . . . try.”

Unexpectedly, he flipped her around so she was on her hands and knees. 

“I think you’ll feel less self-conscious this way.”


She opened her eyes, taking in the rumpled pillows and wooden
headboard. He was right. This was better. He couldn’t see her. She
immediately relaxed. 

“Will it be good for you this way?” The other men had
all preferred the missionary position.

“No, it’s going to be excellent.” Rough hands glided down her back and
massaged her with voluptuous motions. His firm chest brushed against her
shoulder blades as he propped an arm on the bed next to her. Reaching in
front of her, he slid a hand up her inner thigh. 

He searched through her folds and sank his fingers deep, working her until her hips were rocking and fresh moisture drenched the both of them. Withdrawing, he teased her clitoris with gentle touches.

“Aditya . . .”

“Ayesha,” he replied, breathing heavily in her ear.

Something hard prodded at the entrance of her body and pushed inside
slowly. Ayesha stopped breathing. Sex had hurt in the past, but there was
nothing now but a sensuous stretching that went on and on until Aditya
seated himself fully inside her. 

She tried to swallow, to talk. Couldn’t.

They fit perfectly.


For long moments, Aditya remained immobile. Sensing the tension in his
body, she looked at him over her shoulder.

“Aditya?”

His face was drawn as if in pain. “I’ve been wanting this too long. It’s too
good. You feel . . .” He exhaled. “If I move, I’m going to lose it.”

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She wasn’t alone in this. “Move.”

She arched her back and rocked against him. The motion pushed him in even
deeper, filled her.

A raw groan escaped his throat. “Ayesha, I’m serious. Give me a moment to
cool down. This is our first time. I want fireworks for you.”

Our first time. He made it sound like there would be lots of times. The
thought made her so happy her heart wanted to burst. She didn’t need
fireworks. She just needed him.

Wet kisses landed on her neck, interspersed with teasing nips and greedy
licks. He traced the folds stretched tightly around him before sliding his slick
fingertips higher. When he rubbed her there, she clenched on him and
moaned.

Only then did he begin moving. He withdrew, thrust back into her,
retreated, returned, picking up a driving rhythm. The twin assaults of his
fingers and invading tool kindled flames beneath her skin that spread outward in widening rings.

“Ayesha,” he said with a groan. “You feel too good. Sweet Ayesha, my
Ayesha.”

His words soothed and excited. She tried to speak as he’d asked her to, but
all that came out were gasps and sighs of pleasure. Instead, she communicated how she felt with her body. She spread her thighs wider and writhed to match him thrust for thrust. Did he like that? Or was she being too debauched? The hand propped against the mattress captured hers, and he interlaced their fingers.

“Just like that,” he whispered. “Perfect.”

Her sex fisted tight. For a timeless moment, she hovered on the brink,
breathless, possessed, loved. The orgasm crashed over her. 

She rippled around him as he drove into her relentlessly. She attempted to meet his thrusts, but the strong convulsions gripping her body stole her coordination.


His lips traveled from her neck to her jaw, and when she turned toward
him blindly, he captured her mouth, stroking his tongue deep. The caresses
between her legs did not ease, and before the last orgasm had finished, she
felt another building. Her muscles fluttered around his impalement, clamped
down, and exploded yet again. With a hoarse groan, he surged into her one
last time.

He rubbed his jaw against her cheek and neck and lowered her shaking
body to the bed, held her close like she was his. She stroked clumsy hands
over the strong arms wrapped around her and held him back.

Until she remembered sex didn’t mean anything to him, and she loosened
her grip somewhat. Aditya enjoyed physical intimacy. That was all.

Emotion clogged her throat, anyway. If this was just practice, she never
wanted the real thing. How long could she live in a fantasy?

[naruto9211]

As Aditya embraced a boneless, contented Ayesha, his heart stumbled
around his chest like a drunken man.

That hadn’t been practice fucking for a practice relationship or pro bono
fucking to prove he was better than his dad.

He’d fucked hundreds of women, but he’d never been so in tune with one
woman’s body. He’d never been so desperate to please or so elated when she
cried his name and came for him again and again and again.

He didn’t know what that had been, but it sure as hell hadn’t been fucking.

She hugged him tighter, pressed sloppy kisses to his shoulder and neck,
and grinned up at him. She clawed her fingers on his chest—apparently
this was not always a bad sign—and it tickled like hell.

He flattened her fingers against his heart to still their tapping and tried to
put himself in a professional state of mind. “Look at you. I’m expecting
another five-star review.”

“Six stars.” Her grin widened, and chocolate eyes shone at him and forgot
to dart away, letting him really look at her for the first time that morning. It
made him feel like he’d won something priceless, kicked the breath straight
out of his lungs.

“You’re bad for my ego. It’s big enough as it is,” he made himself say in a
light tone.

“You don’t act egotistical. You’re very modest but confident. It’s one of
the many things I love about you.”

Love?

Sharpness panged inside his chest.

She could never love him. He felt the certainty with every fiber of himself.

Love required trust, and only a fool would trust him. He was his father’s son.
But he could prove he was more if he did this right. That was all he could
ask for.

 He glanced at the clock and was amazed to see it wasn’t even ten yet.
The events of the morning had felt life-changing, but they’d only been awake
for two hours.

“I’m starving, and I need coffee,” he said. “I also need to get my car. All
of my clean clothes are in there.”

Mostly, he needed some space. She was getting too close, and he needed to
put distance between them. He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, fully
aware of his audience’s appreciative gaze.

 He felt a little ridiculous about it, but maybe he did it slowly. Maybe he flexed his abs and biceps as he zipped his fly and buttoned his pants. Because really, putting on pants required a lot of muscle.

“Hurry up and get ready, Ayesha.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“We’re going shopping. Couples do that on Sundays.”

• • •


Ayesha pursed her lips as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. 

Aditya had just opened up an entire new branch of apparel to her.

Yoga clothes.

In particular, yoga pants.

She was very possibly in heaven. The pants didn’t itch at all, and they
were tight. She loved clothes that hugged her. Even better, they made her legs
and butt look outstanding. She looked like a dancer. Or a yogi. Or some
hybridized version of the two.

“Come out so I can see,” Aditya said from outside the changing room.

Biting her lip to hide her smile, she opened the door and stepped out.

His crooked grin came out in full force, and his rare dimple winked.

“Knew it.”

“Do you like it?” She smoothed a hand over her tummy and turned in a
slow circle.

He stood up from the waiting chair and approached her, running
appraising eyes over her curves. 

He slid a hand down the length of her neck to
her shoulder and across the tight-fitting long sleeve so he 
could interlace their fingers. 

“I love it.”

“I’m sexy in this.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her near. 

“Very sexy.”

He brushed his lips over hers and tickled his way to her ear and neck, making her squirm and bite back giggles that would have been decidedly unsexy.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a shopgirl watching her with open
envy. The girl mouthed the words So lucky, and Ayesha grinned even though
she had mixed feelings. None of this was real. She was paying for it. Not that
she minded the expense. Aditya was worth every penny.

“I assume you’re going to buy them?”

“One of every color.”

“I have to put my foot down. Not the fluorescent orange with yellow spots.
It hurts me,” he said with a wince.

“No fluorescent orange and yellow, got it. Oh, they have dresses.” Her
eyes rounded at the possibilities.

When they stopped for lunch at a bakery in the Taj, three enormous bags of apparel took up the space by their feet. He insisted they had the best sandwiches in Mumbai,

As light afternoon shopper traffic passed by and the sun shone down
through the trees, Ayesha decided she might want to do this again.

Her regular Sunday schedule was shot, but she was open to developing a new weekend routine. She was adaptable, especially when things involved Aditya.

Dressed in casual khakis and a white button-down open at the collar and
rolled up to his elbows, he looked magazine delicious—as usual. It occurred
to her they’d spent the entire morning shopping for her. How selfish and self-
absorbed of her.

“Do you want to look at men’s attire?” She considered the shops around
them, wondering if any of them appealed to him.

He shook his head with a funny smile. “No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Would you let me get you something?” When his
expression went uncomfortable, her heartbeat picked up, and she tried to
make light of the situation by adding, “Since you won’t let me get you a
Ferrari.”

He sent her a searching look. “Would you really get me a Ferrari if I
wanted it?”

She stared down at the crumbs on her sandwich wrapper and nodded. “I
can afford it, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t really know how to talk
about money matters, but I make a lot, and there aren’t many things I want to
spend it on. I would love to get you a car. Especially if—” She cut herself off
before she could say something that would make him angry.

“If what?”

“I’d rather not say. I’m pretty sure it’s not appropriate.”

He tilted his head to the side, and his expression grew shuttered. “I’d like
to hear it.”

“I was going to say . . .” She took an uncomfortable breath. “Especially if
another woman got you the one you have.”

He focused on folding his sandwich wrapper into a neat square. “Are you
asking if the car was a gift?”

She was pretty sure it was, and it infuriated her. “Yes.”

“It was, actually.”

“From the woman from the club.”

His brow wrinkled. “How do you know that?”

“She’s the client who won’t leave you alone.” The memory of the woman
kissing him flashed in her mind. Not only that, but
he’d had sex with her—probably multiple times. She dug her nails into the
glass surface of the table as her breathing went fast and bitter.

He settled a hand on top of hers, and her heart rate eased. “I don’t like
getting those kinds of gifts. Please don’t, okay?”

“Okay.” But she couldn’t help feeling he kept the gift because he liked the
woman who’d given it to him. Wasn’t that what you did when someone meant
something to you? You kept the things they gave you?

She wanted him to keep something from her. The fact that he wasn’t
allowing her to give him anything made her feel almost desperate.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you if you’re going to start getting
jealous of my past clients, Ayesha,” he said, his eyes level and his voice
somber, like his escorting was a sad reality they had to accept.

Question after question piled on her tongue. If he didn’t like it, why did he
do it? He was so talented with clothes. Why didn’t he make more of it instead
of dry cleaning and altering it? What did he use his escorting money on? 

Did he have some secret addiction? Was he in danger?

Why couldn’t he be hers for real?

He was hers for now, though.


As they finished up with lunch, the question from before persisted in the
back of her mind.

Why couldn’t he be hers for real?

There was only one plausible reason she could think of: He didn’t want her
back.

Things like that weren’t written in stone, though. At the beginning of all of
this, she’d been prepared to learn skills that would aid her in seducing a man
—possibly Hameed Mirza. But why should she settle for Hameed when maybe she could have Aditya? Could she use what he taught her . . . on him? Could she seduce her escort?