Rebel Hard (Hard Play #2) Page 7

  It made the man far too vulnerable.

  “You hungry?” he asked gruffly.

  They didn’t have a chance to really speak again until they were sitting down with their meals—both of them had chosen sandwiches, though hers was considerably smaller than his.

  “Will that be enough?” Nayna frowned. “Don’t tell me that’s all you eat doing such a physical job?”

  Raj felt warmth stab at him, and it unsettled him all over again how quickly she was getting under his skin. Nayna was even more dangerous to him than he’d believed.

  * * *

  “I eat about every two hours when I’m physically on a site.” Raj’s face was unsmiling and hard to read, his words almost curt. “I have to spend one day per week in the office to take care of business matters, but I like working on builds much better.”

  Nayna nodded. “It’d be a waste of incredible skill if you didn’t.” She’d looked up their company website, seen the jobs on which he’d been listed as the head builder; as she’d experienced herself, Raj was gifted with his hands.

  Her skin tingled, and she had to force herself back from falling victim to her physical reaction to him. Wearing a dusty T-shirt and with tumbled hair, his jaw scruffy again, Raj was bone-meltingly gorgeous; it took exquisite control not to crawl across the table and kiss him with slow, deep intensity. “I thought you’d decided against an arranged match?” she said, her voice husky.

  He held her gaze with the penetrating darkness of his. “I didn’t think it was fair to meet other women when I was haunted by a woman in a skintight dress who only wanted me for my body.”

  Cheeks hot, Nayna deliberately took a giant bite of her sandwich. Raj didn’t fill the taut silence with words—he was, she thought, a man comfortable with silences. Finally swallowing the bite and taking a sip of water to wash it down, she decided he deserved the truth. “You were meant to be my wild fling before I settled down into marriage with a stranger.”

  A raised eyebrow followed by the faintest hint of a smile. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d qualify as a wild fling.”

  Now that she knew him, she understood why: he was too intense, took things dead seriously, and oh that was far more intriguing than a brainless hunk. “Trust me,” she whispered, “you qualified for me.”

  Their eyes locked again, the air still.

  Hand closing into a fist on the table, Raj said, “I want to marry you.”

  The stark words reverberated inside Nayna’s skull, leaving her without a response.

  “I can’t get you out of my head,” he added, not sounding exactly happy about that. “Marriage would let us explore our physical connection without boundaries.”

  Nayna frowned. “Such romance.”

  A grim look in return. “We’re adults, Nayna. Romance is for children,” he said in a tone that was as hard as stone. “And you’re unlikely to get a better offer. Your sister’s affair with a postgrad student before she ran off with another man is well known in the community.”

  Nayna’s ears burned. The affair with a married man wasn’t something any of them ever talked about, but it lay at the root of all the anguish Madhuri had caused her family. At the time, that master’s student had been a member of the local Indian community too. As had been his wife and toddler son.

  It was the wife who’d turned up at the Sharma residence, sobbing her heart out after discovering evidence of the affair on her husband’s phone. Madhuri, a new university student at the time, when confronted about the affair, had yelled that she was in love.

  “My sister was eighteen and a half. He was twenty-four. He should’ve known better.” Madhuri wasn’t innocent, had been old enough to make the right decision, but Nayna refused to allow the world to cast her in the role of villainess.

  “Agreed,” Raj said unexpectedly. “He was the married one, the one who cheated. But you know how the world works—everyone blames your sister, and that’s a stain against your family name.” His tone remained hard, unbending. “You’re not going to get many marriage offers. It’s not fair, but people assume you’ll be as fickle and disloyal as her.”

  Nayna’s hand clenched around her water glass, her vision red. “Are you offering to marry me despite that stain?”

  “Yes. We have excellent chemistry, and the rest we can work out.”

  It was a struggle not to throw the water in his face, but Nayna wasn’t about to make a scene. Not for him. “Thank you for your oh-so-kind offer to save me from the curse of singledom,” she said very precisely, “but given that you’ve just insulted my entire family, implied that I’m so undesirable I won’t be able to find a man who wants me despite the ‘stain’ on my family name, and acted with the emotional IQ of a block of wood, I’d rather die a shriveled-up old virgin than let you anywhere near me.”

  12

  Nayna’s Secret Diary (Angry Red-Ink Day)

  Things that happened today:

  * * *

  I found out Raj is an ASS.

  I came home at nine thirty so no one could grill me about that stupid lunch. I should’ve thrown the water in his face, scene or no scene.

  Madhuri got two more offers of marriage. “Stain” on our family name, my posterior.

  My body still gets wet thinking about him. My body is an idiot.

  Oh fuck! I just realized I told Raj I was a virgin. Great. Just great.

  13

  Someone Is Getting Naked (Oooooooh)

  Nayna was still fuming when she met Ísa for brunch on Friday morning, but she didn’t want to put a damper on her friend’s birthday so kept the topic of Raj off the table. When Ísa brought him up, she just said, “He’s an idiot and I’m not ready to talk about it.”

  “You sound like you want to bite his head off,” Ísa commented.

  Nayna growled under her breath. “No comment. Is Catie all right?” Ísa’s younger sister had ended up in the hospital earlier this week.

  “She bounces back like a rabbit,” Ísa said proudly. “Tough as nails, that’s my Catie.” She ate a bite of the cake Nayna’s mother had made. “Since the topic of the hunk is off the table, how about you give me the scoop on that wedding you mentioned.”

  “It’s going to be a big, fat, OTT Indian shindig,” Nayna told her best friend, delighted to have an utterly innocuous topic on which to focus. “You know Pinky? You met her at that festival we went to.”

  “Gold girl?”

  “Yes, that’s her.” Pinky Mehra never left home without layers of gold and diamonds. “They hired a white horse for the groom to ride in on. And there’s a tabla band direct from India.” She drummed against the table using the flat of her hands. “Oh, and the bride’s wedding suit features thousands of hand-sewn crystals—store-bought ‘just wouldn’t do.’ Makeup artist flown in from Los Angeles because ‘no one in New Zealand understands the latest trends.’”

  “At least her parents won’t be bankrupted by her demands.”

  “True.” The Mehras were filthy rich, and Pinky was their only daughter. “They seem fully on board. If she wants a full-sized aquarium at her reception, she’ll get it.” Nayna was actually enjoying the over-the-top madness. “They did draw the line at the tiger she wanted.”

  Ísa spread her hands apart. “Doesn’t everyone have a tiger at their wedding?”

  Laughing, Nayna ate more of the cake before saying, “And the hot gardener? How’s that going?”

  Ísa’s cheeks went bright red.

  Mouth falling open, Nayna pointed the cake fork at her friend. “You got naked with him, didn’t you?” she said, a little envious. “And it wasn’t for skinny-dipping this time.”

  “Shh!” Ísa looked around them before leaning in, her voice lowered and her face glowing. “It was wonderful. We had an indoor picnic.”

  Nayna sighed. “That is so incredibly romantic.” A fact Raj would never understand. “So you two are serious?”

  Ísa bit down hard on her lower lip. “He’s amazing, Nayna. Loves his family, is dedicate
d to his friends, has so much passion for his work.”

  Not many people would’ve heard what Ísa didn’t say, but Nayna had known Ísa since they were thirteen. There was a reason Nayna’s mother knew that Ísa liked this cake and a reason her father had made the effort to make sure it was boxed up nicely—and a reason her grandmother had added the gift of a gold bangle from her private collection, which would otherwise pass on only to her granddaughters.

  Ísa had celebrated more birthdays with Nayna’s family than she had her own parents.

  “Are you worried he won’t have time for you?” she asked, gentle with her friend who had spent far too much of her childhood alone. The birth of her sister, Catie, when Ísa had been fifteen, had assuaged some of her loneliness for family, but Ísa had always been the adult in that relationship.

  No one in Ísa’s family looked after her; Ísa was the one who took care of everyone else.

  Turning her lips inward, Ísa nodded. “The project he has coming up, it’s critical to the future of his business and it’s going to consume him.” The bangle glimmered on her wrist when she lifted her hand to push back her hair. “But it won’t just be one project—he has too much drive to stop there. And the thing is, I like his drive, I admire his passion. I just…”

  “I know.” Nayna closed her hand over the one Ísa had on the table. “You shouldn’t ever have to be second best, Ísa.” It was a fierce statement. “Sailor would be privileged to be loved by you.” Ísa Rain loved her people without limits, would do anything for them.

  Ísa’s smile was a touch shaky. “I adore being with him. I’m not ready to make a decision yet.”

  All Nayna could do was tell her friend she was there for her if she needed to vent. The final decision on her relationship would have to be Ísa’s. As for Nayna, she’d made her decision already, and tonight she’d share it with her parents. It would be hard because she wasn’t going to share what Raj had said—she would not do that to her parents—but she’d make it clear he wasn’t the kind of son-in-law they’d want.

  Then she’d tell them she was done.

  Yep, it was going to be a stellar day for Nayna Sharma.

  * * *

  As her brunch with Ísa had gone a little long, Nayna was still in the office at six. Her last colleague had left at around five thirty, locking the front door behind him for security, and she planned to finish up and be out of there by seven. She wanted to speak to her family over dinner.

  When the doorbell rang, she wasn’t startled. With it being summer, it was still sunny outside, and more than likely a courier driver was trying his luck by attempting to deliver a package. The local drivers all knew Nayna and one of her other colleagues often worked late and would be around to sign for things.

  Rising, she made her way to the front door. She looked through the peephole out of habit, her hand already on the door handle… and froze. It wasn’t a courier driver outside, shifting impatiently on his feet as he waited for a response. No, this man was bigger, and he stood absolutely still.

  She should’ve turned around and walked away, but she wanted to know what the hell Raj thought he had to say to her. Wrenching open the door, she folded her arms. “Did you forget an insult?”

  No expression on his face. “I wanted to ask if you’d read this.” He held out what looked to be a couple of sheets of paper folded over.

  “What? Am I living Lizzy Bennet’s life?” She kept her arms folded. “I highly doubt you have anything to say that I want to hear.”

  Raj frowned. “I don’t know who that is, and I can’t force you to read anything. All I can do is ask.” Then he put the pages on the small white table they had on the porch of the villa. Surrounded by three chairs made of the same wide slats of wood, it was occasionally used for meetings with clients in the summer.

  Nayna didn’t move as Raj turned and walked down the three steps to the parking lot level. He’d parked his black utility truck beside her MINI, the big bruiser of a vehicle currently sporting a ladder on the roof. In back was a pallet of tiles tied down by ropes. She could also see toolboxes through the back windows.

  The display of rugged manliness might’ve melted her on the spot if she hadn’t been so angry with him.

  He backed out and around before pulling out into the traffic on the wide road that fronted the villa that had been converted into offices for their boutique firm. Nayna still didn’t move. Not until a gust of wind threatened to lift the pages off the table. She grabbed them before they could be stolen away, the action instinctive. Her raging curiosity wouldn’t allow her to just leave it.

  That and the hollow in the pit of her stomach filled with a deep sense of loss.

  Stepping back with the pages in hand, she locked the door behind her, then walked into the little kitchen in the villa and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee from the carafe she’d put on earlier. Only once she was fortified with caffeine did she walk back into her office and take a seat at her desk.

  “If you insult me again, I’ll hunt you down,” she muttered, unfolding the two sheets.

  It was handwritten, Raj’s scrawl generous and taking up far more room than it should.

  Dear Nayna,

  * * *

  I was a complete bastard at lunch. I can’t go back in time and fix that. What I can do is tell you why I acted the way I did. I’m not great at words—English was never my favorite subject at school. So I’ll stick to the facts.

  * * *

  I’m not sure if your parents told you, but I was adopted at six years of age from an orphanage in India. I was abandoned there at four years of age. I knew I was unwanted, but I didn’t know how unwanted until I was twenty-one and the orphanage had to turn over my records when I requested them.

  * * *

  I didn’t want to find my birth parents. I have clear memories of being kicked and left alone in dark rooms. I knew they weren’t people who loved me. But I wanted to have a sense of my history.

  * * *

  Usually the records are pretty bad. Mine was too, but someone had saved the letter with which I’d been left. It was written in Hindi, and since I never learned the written format, I had to translate it piece by piece using the internet.

  * * *

  It said: Boy was from my first husband. First husband was a drunk and he’s dead. I have a new husband now, and I’m going to have a new baby. I don’t want my first husband’s ugly-faced son and my new husband doesn’t either. Boy will probably end up like his father—no good to any woman and not even able to feed his own family. Will probably live on the hard work of some unlucky woman. I don’t care what you do with him.

  * * *

  I hope you’ll keep that to yourself. I haven’t even told my parents, and I never will. It would cause them a lot of hurt.

  Nayna’s tears rolled down her face, her heart breaking for the solemn twenty-one-year-old boy who’d gone looking for his history and found only rejection, but she forced herself to read on.

  I’m not telling you this as an excuse—what I did was inexcusable—but so you’ll understand what it does to me to be around a woman who could have a great deal of power over me. I don’t, as you might guess, deal well with rejection when it’s people who matter. And I think if I let you in and you rejected me, you could break me.

  * * *

  It makes me afraid down to the core—and because of that, I acted like a complete bastard to you. I was trying to find a way to be the one in control so you wouldn’t have that power. I’m sorry for what I said, and I’m sorry I made you feel anything but beautiful. You are the sexiest, most fascinating woman I have ever met.

  * * *

  Raj

  Nayna stared at the closing paragraphs, reading them again and again and again. Her hand trembled as she raised it to thrust her fingers through her hair, unraveling it in the process. What was she going to do? Because in his unadorned words, she’d read the thing he hadn’t written: that he might be incapable of ever truly letting any woman in�
� letting Nayna in.

  If she took a chance on him, she did it knowing that he might keep a part of himself forever separate. Such a relationship would destroy her. Because Nayna didn’t love halfway. And Raj… he’d angered and hurt her because he already mattered. If they went further, this wasn’t a man she could keep at arm’s length.

  He could break her too.

  * * *

  Ten o’clock at night and Nayna sat in her bedroom, staring at the letter as she’d been doing for what felt like hours. The truth was, she’d had to go out for a couple of hours to attend a ceremony in the lead-up to Pinky Mehra’s wedding, but mentally she’d been here the entire time.

  She needed to talk to Raj. Picking up her phone, she sent him a message: Meet me in the small park a few minutes down from our house.

  He replied within seconds: I’ll meet you by your house. Don’t walk down to the park alone.

  Since the perfectly lovely family park could appear creepy at night, Nayna agreed. Leave your car down the road. If her parents spotted him, the shit would hit the fan.

  I’ll message you when I’m there.

  Nayna took the time to get out of her pj’s and into jeans and a T-shirt. Then she tiptoed through the house, Raj’s letter in hand. Her parents had turned in, but Aji busted her in the kitchen.

  “Are you going out?” she whispered from the stove where she was heating up some milk in the saucepan.

  “Just to talk to Raj about something. He’s waiting outside.”