Page 11 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

AHANA

T he 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 Pāpā’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 something about 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.

My throat worked. “That’s just rude and—”

“Agreed.”

Ugh. My teeth chewed on my bottom lip. Why was he so confusing? I couldn’t remember where I was going with this.

He shifted in his seat. “And direct. I am anything but—” With a groan, he rolled his head back and ran his hand through his hair. “Stop fucking biting your lip or I’ll do it for you.”

My teeth released as fast as a metal spring. I’ll do it for you heated my ears.

His gaze pinned back to me with direct intention and hot awareness.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t pull mine away.

He was metal. I was magnetic. My skin buzzed and pulsed with need.

My toes tingled. I crossed my legs to soothe the heat between my thighs, and his gaze dropped and followed.

Knowingly. There was only one way to end the tension in this room, and it didn’t have to do with one of us walking away. But maybe we should. I should.

He crowded me in. Overwhelmed me from a distance of ten feet. Made my legs feel like jelly and my heart flutter violently. This was bad. He was bad. I needed to get out of there. My hand clawed at the sheet and clenched. His “Stay,” warmed my skin before I could pull myself up and off the bed.

No. I shouldn’t stay. But my hand released the sheet. It shook when I nervously rushed it through my hair.

“It’s perfect.”

I froze. His voice was warm honey. I prayed to all the Gods I worshipped. Get me out of here because I was about to sin.

Like they had heard me, my phone rang next to me. Shrill. Startling me. His brows creased into a frown. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. The amber of his cigar burning hot in between. I suddenly realised he hadn’t taken a single puff since he’d glanced my way.

“Ignore it.”

I was anything but obedient, but with him I couldn’t be.

I shouldn’t. I snatched my phone and glanced at it.

A twinge of happiness touched my chest. My sister.

Amara was the only one back home who knew the real me.

This meant she was alone and she could talk, but…

my gaze shifted up to find him watching me under his intent gaze. I wasn’t. I swiped it off.

“Who was it?” His tone was annoyed.

“No one,” I muttered.

He glared at my phone as if I held a weapon in my hand. “No one, huh?” He let out a short laugh. “Is your name even real?”

“Yes.” A mistake, obviously. I shouldn’t have done that. But I couldn’t bear to be called by something else. I’d lost everything. I wanted to at least own my name.

The ash from his cigar dropped to the floor, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “What’s your surname?”

I opened my mouth. To tell him the same lie I’d told so many others before him, but he stopped me with his next words. “And don’t fucking lie to me.”

My lips clamped shut.

The silence between us was heavy. Five long pulse beats passed between us. Each one constricting within my ribcage. His voice softened. “Tell me the truth...” if I had even an inkling to do that, the next words took it over. “I’ll find out, anyway.”

No, he wouldn’t.

That arrogance wouldn’t do him any favours.

I trusted Ada, and she’d closed off any leaks. Hopefully.

He saw it in my eyes, and his short patience slipped. A frustrated growl spilled out of him. “Just fucking tell me, Ahana. Who the fuck are you running away from?”

Rajesh. It was so easy to name my husband, hopefully my ex-husband, soon.

A nightmare that I could forget. The man who had promised my father he’d look after me like a princess but had kept me like a slave.

The man with the limp dick who hadn’t been able to get it up except for one very memorable time.

The man who blamed me for everything. Who’d beaten me to cover up for his frustrations.

Again and again. The husband who couldn’t satisfy with words or deeds but who was obsessed enough to cover up the sunlight from the windows. It would be so easy to name him.

If I can’t fuck you, no one else will, Ahana.

But I couldn’t. Because this shame wasn’t only mine to carry.

What it would do to my family weighed on me as heavy as concrete.

Enough to be poured in to seal a foundation of guilt.

There was no doubt. The way this don looked at me…

if he knew what Rajesh had done, I might have that final piece of paper that I desired so badly, but shame would be sealed in thick red letters within it.

He saw me come to my decision. I didn’t have to open my mouth to voice it. He saw through me at that moment like I was tracing paper to the bold black line drawn beneath it.

Anger and pure frustration itched across his face and fisted in his hands. What he would have said, I didn’t know, because the loud knock on the door broke the tension between us.

“Ahana, can I come in?”

“No!” I jerked to my knees, my laptop falling off my lap onto the bed. My nerves were skittish as I worked my throat to make sense out of the jumble in my brain. “I’m getting dressed and…” And what? My skin tingled under a hot gaze. “I’ll come out when I’m ready.”

“Okay. No rush. I thought we could go to the market together. You’ll love it.”

“Sure.” My enthusiasm was high-pitched. “I’ll be right there.” I didn’t even want to know what Lia’s reaction would be if she saw her brother. In my room.

The brother who had his obsessed gaze pasted to my lips like he was counting the lines on them or tracing them with his own.

I should have fled this room the moment he had stepped in.

I didn’t even wait for her footsteps to fade before I jumped off the bed.

I was a mess. Uncoordinated. Made me get off on the wrong side.

Landing from the hot pan to the fire. Now I’d have to walk past him.

A wicked grin touched his lips, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Longing hit my chest as I looked at the other side of the bed.

No. That would be childish. If I could flee from Rajesh, I could definitely do this.

I gritted my teeth and moved to pass him.

Eating up the distance between us one step at a time.

Two. Three. I was at the edge of his chair.

I rushed past four, and I’d passed him. It was like he waited for the sigh of relief to fall before his hand circled my wrist. Firm but soft.

His rough thumb traced my speeding pulse, and heat rushed up to my hitched breath. “Until next time, roommate.”