Page 154 of The Redemption
Sleep usually comes easily to me, but tonight, it refuses to. Maybe it’s the alcohol from earlier. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m lying in the same room as the man who turned my entire life upside down.
I sit against the headboard with one leg folded beneath me, staring blankly at my phone. My mind isn’t even racing anymore. It feels strangely numb.Empty.
The sound of the bathroom door opening cuts through the silence. The moment I see Raghav shirtless, my gaze immediately betrays me. He walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but loose grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist. He’s drying his damp hair with a towel, and for several seconds, my brain completely stops working.
Damn him.
Why does he always have to look this good?
Unwillingly, my gaze drops from his face to the chain resting against his chest before sliding lower. The muscles across his shoulders flex as he rubs the towel through his hair. Droplets of water trail down the side of his neck before disappearing somewhere below.
I immediately look away but then glance back at him again. My eyes stupidly continue to follow him before I can stop myself.
His shoulders.
His arms.
The hard lines of his body.
The faint trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
Raghav is a complete Greek God wrapped inside the body of a Mafia Prince. When I look back at his face, he’s already watching me. My heart nearly stops. Did he catch me checking him out?
Sh*t.
Heat rushes into my face. I quickly look away and pretend to be interested in my phone again.
The room falls silent as he walks towards the bed and dims the bedside lamp. The mattress shifts slightly as he gets onto the bed beside me.
Suddenly, the entire room feels ten degrees hotter.
For the past two nights, I had fallen asleep before he came to bed. Unfortunately, tonight, I’m fully awake.Fully aware.And too conscious of the fact that Raghav Kundra is lying only two feet away from me, wearing nothing except those grey sweatpants.
I hate this. And I especially hate whatever is happening inside my head right now. Before my brain can embarrass me any further, I move towards the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
His voice stops me just as I’m about to slide off the bed. A moment later, his fingers close around my wrist. He’s lying on his side, with one arm tucked beneath his head, watching me intently.
“Balcony. To get some fresh air. Do I need your permission for that too now?”
Without waiting for a response, I shrug off his hold and get down of bed. I step onto the balcony, and the cold air hits my face instantly.
Thank God.Whatever is happening inside that room is far more dangerous than the temperature outside. I wrap my arms around myself and stare into the darkness stretching across the mountains. Everything out there looks peaceful, but nothing inside me feels this calm.
All my dreams and my longing for freedom feel too distant now. I don’t know how long I remain standing there, lost in my thoughts. Probably long enough for sleep to begin pulling at my eyelids. Finally, I turn around and head back inside. The room is quiet. Raghav is already asleep. He’s lying on his stomach now, with one arm folded beneath the pillow and the other resting beside him. He hasn’t even pulled the duvet over his body despite the chill in the room.
Again my eyes unwittingly drift across the broad expanse of his back, and I notice the faint scars on his skin. There’s one near his shoulder, another lower down, and one close to his spine.
My stomach tightens unexpectedly.
Every scar tells a story. Every scar means someone once tried to kill him and failed. He had stayed away from that life, and yet, after years of staying hidden, he exposed himself to the entire underworld all over again.
For me.Why?
The question refuses to leave me alone. But once again, I stop myself in the fear of reaching any absurd conclusion.
Nope. I’m not doing this tonight. I’m not analysing Raghav Kundra, and I’m definitely not sympathising with him either. Also, I absolutely refuse to spend another second staring at his shirtless body. Grabbing the discarded duvet, I throw it over him with more force than necessary.
