Now he’s sitting up in bed, sheets low on his waist, hair all over the place, eyes still heavy with sleep, and my brain has chosennowto malfunction.
I feel heat rush to my face instantly.
Abort. Abort. Look away.
I turn my head sharply, staring at the wall like it holds the secrets of the universe. “I—I think I should um… get ready,” I blurt out. “I have to go meet your mother and—”
His hand closes around my wrist.
Gently. Firmly. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on.
I inhale sharply and look down at his hand before slowly lifting my gaze to his face.
Sleepy Dhruv has to be single-handedly themosthandsome man I have ever seen in my life. This is not a thought I appreciate.
“No,” he says simply.
I blink. “No?”
“You can meet her after breakfast,” he says, like this is the most reasonable thing in the world.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you ordering me, Mr. Singhania?”
He gets up then, still holding my wrist, and suddenly I have to tilt my head back to look at him. He’s too close. Far too close. His presence fills the space around me, steady and calm and dangerously distracting.
“I would never dare to do that,” he says, lips twitching, “Mrs. Singhania.”
Oh.
Ohshit. Right, I am Mrs. Singhania.
My heart does something violent inside my chest. The word hangs between us, heavy and electric, and I forget how to breathe for a second too long.
I cough, loud and awkward, breaking whatever dangerous moment that was. “Um—yes. Breakfast first.”
I nod quickly, like I’ve just made a very mature decision and not internally combusted.
He chuckles softly, finally letting go of my wrist. “Why are you so red?” he asks, studying my face. “You feeling okay?”
Way to go, Tara.
“Yeah,” I say too fast. “Just—uh—winters, you know.”
He frowns, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully doesn’t push it. I silently thank every god I know.
He walks toward the door, pauses, and turns the knob. “Oh,” he says mildly. “It’s unlocked now.”
He turns back to me. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll meet you in half an hour, okay?”
I nod, probably a little too enthusiastically. As soon as the door closes behind him, I slump back onto the bed and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Oh thank god.
I can breathe again.
I press my palms to my cheeks, which are still very much on fire. What the hell was that? Since when does being near Dhruv make my heart race like I’ve just run a marathon?
This was not part of the deal.
