Rebel Hard (Hard Play #2)(47)

Forget about the FBI or the CIA, Nayna’s father was part of the CIF aka Concerned Indian Fathers unit. One hint of where she was headed and he’d contact the cousin of someone’s uncle’s brother’s wife’s auntie who happened to have a little convenience shop in the nearby town, or it would be a friend of a friend’s brother-in-law’s daughter who happened to be working the desk at the place where she planned to stay.

And there went her privacy.

Having already checked in on her phone, the first thing she did inside the terminal was go stand in line at the nearest coffee station and get a large flat white. Then she found a seat, glanced at the clock, and began to type a message to her mother.

She was only halfway through when she received a photo that made her lower body clench. Oh, Raj was having far too much fun with this. But she still couldn’t help saving the photo, especially since she could see his bed-tumbled hair, his face wearing that slow, sexy grin that undid her.

After pushing Send on the message to her mother, she’d risen to join the boarding line when another incoming message made her want to moan.

Another picture of Raj’s abs—this time with the tongue emoji added on.

When ísa rang right after, she confessed all to her laughing friend. Afterward, she sent Raj a reply: I’m going out of town for a few days. Talk when I get back.

She put the phone into airplane mode immediately afterward.

She couldn’t talk to anyone, especially not to the man who made her want to forget everything and just be with him; she needed time alone to decide.

On the rest of her life.



* * *



Raj scowled down at his phone. He’d just had a call from a Sharma girl. Too bad it was the wrong Sharma girl. Madhuri had tracked him down after Shilpa Sharma called her and told her that Nayna had run away. Not surprisingly, everyone’s first thought was that Nayna had run away with Raj.

Now he rang Nayna’s mother directly. “She told me she was going away for a few days. Your daughter is very responsible and intelligent. She’ll be fine.” It wasn’t Nayna’s safety that worried him but the thoughts tumbling around in that smart brain.

His heart had been beating hard and rough ever since he’d gotten that message and realized she was distancing herself from him. He couldn’t use their physical connection to hold on to her if she’d deliberately traveled far from him. And fuck, that hurt like a kick to the gut.

“She told me she was going away to have some time alone to think!” Shilpa Sharma said. “Why can’t she think at home? We have a perfectly good bedroom for her.”

A sudden bustle of noise, the voice next on the line a male one. “Raj? What’s this nonsense?” Gaurav Sharma demanded. “You’re supposed to be her fiancé. Why can’t you control her?”

Raj’s hand tightened on the phone. “You need to let her have this,” he said past his own violent need to see her, hold her. “Nayna is feeling trapped by the idea of marriage. She hasn’t had much choice in her life, and now she’s being railroaded into marriage.” It hurt Raj to say that, to admit that she might decide he wasn’t the husband she wanted.

A hesitation in the older man’s voice when he said, “Do you think she’s gone overseas?”

“No.” Nayna was too loyal to her family to go so far out of reach without warning. “I’ll deal with this, Mr. Sharma.”

“She’s my daughter.”

Raj rubbed at his forehead. “Do you know her dreams?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice even. “Have you ever asked Nayna what she wants?” Maybe he shouldn’t be speaking so bluntly to a man who might be his father-in-law if Raj’s dreams didn’t shatter, but he was too fucking angry to worry.

The idea of “controlling” Nayna, it made his vision haze red. “Have you ever looked at her and seen Nayna rather than a daughter who might turn out to be like Madhuri?”

Gaurav Sharma sucked in an audible breath. “Just bring her back home safe and sound,” the older man said before hanging up.

Raj’s chest heaved after the conversation, and he had to take harsh breaths of the summer air before he tried to call Nayna. Her phone was either off or she was already in the air. He sent a message, got a response after about two hours: Yes, I’m safe. If you’re the reason my parents aren’t hounding me, thank you. I need time to think.

Raj’s shoulders knotted. Despite what he’d told her father, his first instinct was to fight, to push. That was how he’d survived the first six years of his life and the urge had been burned into him. It was what made him such a good businessman and how he’d taken his father’s company to the next level.

He called her.

To discover she’d switched off her phone again.

“Fuck.” Gritting his teeth, he breathed, just breathed. It was a technique he’d had to teach himself when this happened, when he ran up against a roadblock that no amount of pushing or fighting would conquer. The six-year-old boy inside him began to panic, and it manifested as a tightness in his chest and a rigid tension in his body.

He had a feeling it always would, but he’d learned to think past it.

His breath coming in clearer after several minutes, he sent Nayna another message that would download when she turned on her phone. “Fight for me like I’m fighting for you,” he whispered after pushing the Send key. “Want me like I want you.”