He shrugged. “Only that our father went to visit him in his hotel room.”
Oh fuck!
CHAPTER 42
DAKSH
Daksh satin the darkened hotel room, the open bottle of scotch and his dark thoughts his only companions.
“He had the decency not to fuck me before fucking me over.”
His mouse had some sharp teeth, he thought, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. He had to admit he was fucking proud of her for the way she’d eviscerated him while standing up for herself. He mentally toasted her as he grabbed the bottle of alcohol and took a deep slug from it.
A sharp knock on the door drew him out of his maudlin thoughts. He frowned, glancing towards it. Who the fuck was that? He hadn’t ordered anything and he certainly hadn’t asked anyone to come over.
The knock came again. Whoever it was, wasn’t going to just fuck off. He’d just have to tell them to fuck off.
He drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and got up, sauntering over to the door, carrying the bottle with him.
“I’m coming,” he shouted when the infernal knocking began again. He swung the door open, “Who the-“
Whatever inventive curse he’d thought up died on his lips as he took in the sight of Aakash Thakkar on the other side of the door. He blinked, glanced down at his bottle and murmured, “This is some potent shit.”
“May I come in?” Aakash asked, one aristocratically arrogant eyebrow raised.
Daksh tried mimicking the movement but his eyebrow wouldn’t cooperate. It was too drunk, he figured. After a moment, Aakash gave up on waiting for a rational response and walked past him into the room.
“Please come in,” Daksh muttered sarcastically to Aakash’s back as he shut the door and followed him.
“Pity party for one?” Aakash queried, sitting in the one good chair in the room. Daksh had the option of sitting on the bed or standing. Given housekeeping hadn’t been by to do his room, he chose not to sit on the sheets he’d rolled around in with this man’s daughter. Even degenerates should have some lines they don’t cross, he figured. So, he stood.
“Are you here to tell me to get out of this city and never come back?” he asked Aakash politely. “Because if you are,” he added, “you’re too late. I’m booked on a flight to Australia tomorrow.”
When Aakash only stared at him thoughtfully, Daksh added helpfully, “It’s as far from here as I could go at the moment. I mean I could try and hit the Antarctic but it would take a little time to organise a project there.”
“Actually,” Aakash leaned forward, his hands resting on his thighs. “I’m here to ask you to stay.”
Daksh peered down at the bottle he was still clutching like a lifeline. “Bloody potent stuff.”
“You made my daughter cry.”
Daksh froze, his heart stalling in his chest. “She-“ He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“She didn’t cry when your brother betrayed her. She was angry, she was hurt, but she didn’t cry for him.”
“He didn’t deserve her tears,” Daksh said through numb lips.
“And you do?” Aakash watched him carefully.
“No, Sir.” An exhaustion like he’d never known, swam through Daksh, almost crippling him. “Neither of us do.” He’d prefer it if she never shed another tear, not over him for sure.
“And yet she shed them for you.”
Daksh took a deep, steadying breath. “Are you here to murder me or something?” he asked, conversationally. “I’d really like to get it over with, if you are. I’m a bit done with fathers for the day.”
“About that,” Aakash’s voice was deceptively mild. “I know.”
“Know what?” Daksh asked. “How to transform into-“
