“The VIP lives in a Markham McMansion?” His eyes suddenly went huge, and he slapped Marley on the arm. “Holy. Shit.I only know of one Toronto celebrity who would have a connection with this neighborhood.Nicky Shamdasani… Marley, you’ve been styling theBronze fucking Shadow.”
She’d forgotten that Shayne used to call Nikhil Nicky, but she had suspected Shayne knew the Bronze Shadow was Nikhil. Shayne followed celebrity gossip, so Marley had no doubt he’d seen pictures. He probably hadn’t mentioned it to Marley because of her and Nikhil’s complicated past.
Marley unbuckled her belt. “All right… this is just you and me visiting an old friend, okay? And I didn’t tell you I’m styling him; you figured it out on your own. Got it?”
Shayne nodded and made a gesture zipping up his lips and throwing away the key.
An older South Asian man in jeans answered the door after she knocked. Marley vaguely remembered him—Nikhil’s father. He had Nikhil’s eyes. Eyes that looked suspicious right now.
“Yes?”
“Is Nikhil here?” Marley asked. “I’m Mar—Mahreen Kamal. A friend of his.”
Nikhil’s father hesitated… rightly. He’d probably been warned never to let anyone know that Nikhil lived here.
“We went to high school together. I’m Shayne.” Shayne put his hand out to shake. “This house’s exterior is perfection. Did you do the landscaping yourself?”
Nikhil’s father still looked suspicious. “I’m working with Nikhil, too,” Marley added. “I’m his wardrobe stylist. I need to speak to him about… clothes.”
Nikhil’s dad finally smiled. “Ah yes, come, come. Nikhil just got home.” He urged them into the house. The entryway of the house was vast, with white ceramic tile flooring and a glass chandelier high on the ceiling. In front of them was a curving staircase covered with pink broadloom carpet with an oak banister. It all reminded Marley of her own parents’ house, which was only about five minutes from here.
“Nikhil always takes a shower when he comes home,” Nikhil’s dad said. He was clearly a chatty man. “He gets so sweaty when he’s training! Have you seen the gym he works in? State of the art! No expense spared! Come, I’ll pour some chai. You can call me Sunhil Uncle. So, you went to the art school with Nikhil? I didn’t want him to go there. He should have been an engineer, like me, instead of this acting business. Do you live near here? Mahreen, do we know your family? Where are your parents from?”
“Kenya and Tanzania,” Marley said.
“Wonderful. Have you eaten? We have friends from Tanzania. Come. I have fresh bhindi and rotli.” Marley glanced back at Shayne behind her. He looked a little like a deer caught in the headlights. Which, fair—he didn’t have as much experience with this brand of Indian hospitality. Marley’s own parents were nowhere near this warm to Marley’s friends. Especially her non-Indian friends.
They found themselves sitting at the breakfast bar in thekitchen, warm chai in front of them, and a plate of Peek Freans cookies between them. It had taken a fair amount of effort to convince Nikhil’s father that they had eaten enough shawarma and didn’t need any bhindi or rotli. After about five minutes, a teenage girl came into the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Marley and Shayne.
“Who are you two?” she asked. She was in a sweatshirt and jeans, and her long dark hair was in a ponytail.
“This is Mahreen and Shayne,” Sunhil Uncle said. “They are friends of Nikhil’s from high school. This is Nikhil’s sister, Nalini. She didn’t go to the arts school like him. Nalini is going to be adoctor.”
Nalini’s eyes went wide, staring at Marley. “You… you’re Marley, aren’t you?”
Marley frowned, nodding. Had Nikhil told his sister about her?
“Does Nikhil know you’re here?”
Marley shook her head. At that, Nalini disappeared before anyone could say another word.
“She’s very close to her brother,” Sunhil Uncle said. “How do you like that chai? It’s a new brand they had in Patel Brothers, but I’m not sure it’s as good as Wagh Bakri. Do you like Wagh Bakri? Maybe I should make a new pot. Shayne, do you drink a lot of chai? Where is your family from? Nikhil’s mother and I traveled to Tanzania years ago. We used to have the wanderlust then. She’s not feeling well, but maybe you can come another time for her to meet you! She loves meeting the children’s friends!”
Coming here was a mistake. This was supposed to be a professional relationship and now she was sitting in his parents’kitchen talking about chai and scaring the crap out of his sister. Nikhil was going to be furious with her.
Which… fine. Because she was furious with him. A few moments later, while Shayne was telling Sunhil Uncle all about his grandmother coming from Jamaica half a century ago, Nikhil himself burst into the kitchen. His hair was wet. He was wearing gray sweatpants with some charity-run shirt. And he looked… annoyed. Good.
CHAPTER NINE
Nikhil
Nikhil didn’t believe his sister, Nalini, when she banged on the basement bathroom door yelling that his hookup from last night was now having chai and cookies in the kitchen with Dad and some man in a neon Hawaiian shirt, but it seemed too cruel a prank, even for Nalini. So he got out of the shower as fast as he could and threw on some clothes. He couldn’t imagine why Marley would be here. Something to do with her store? Did she need the shirt from the junket back?
Or maybe she wanted to talk about the mind-boggling, amazing sex they’d had the night before. Or about the torturous fact that it would never happen again. That she hadn’t even wanted his phone number.
She’d been distracting him all day… Every time his mind stilled, all he could think about washer. Her hands all over him. Her mouth on him. The memory of her body locked with his. Her scent. The feel of her skin under his fingers. He’d been completely useless in training today.
But he’d fully planned to honor their agreement. Friends with a single, one-timebenefit.
