Page 54 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“I’m not saying that, but no one travels from Texas to Montréal unless there’s something real there.”

“He’s a rich man with way too much time on his hands, apparently.”

“I know Jaya wouldn’t do it, no matter how much money she had.”

“Uh…had? Did you forget your wife was just made CEO of her swanky company?”

She dismissed me with a wave of her fork. “You know what I mean. She wouldn’t do it unless she had real feelings for me.”

“Feelings is a bit extreme. Plus, he isn’t the ‘feelings’ type. I’m his distraction for now.”

“Then distract him! You can do with some distraction too.”

“And get hurt in the process?”

“Oh…my god…” She lowered the fork down slowly for dramatic effect. “You really like him!”

I looked away. “Don’t start.”

Dropping the fork in the box, she took my hand in hers. “Look, I may not be much older than you, but I’ve definitely seen more of the world. You’re like a baby bird barely out of your nest. You’ve led a very protected, very sheltered life.” It was true. “So here’s what I think… He won’t hurt you. Put all your cards on the table, Sona. You’re holding them too close to your chest. Let him see them. He’s mature. He can handle it. And it will be good for you.”

My eyes glazed over her. “Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe that’s what’s behind all this ridiculous advice.”

She picked up the fork and used it to wave me out. “That’s it, off you go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as she got busy with her cake again.

I exited her room and stepped into the eerie silence of the dim corridor.

MIHIR

It was dark outside, and I was about to give up hope when my phone dinged with a text from Sona. Hey.

The moment I’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

Hey, I replied.

Can I stop by?

Sure.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. Sona stood outside in the same clothes she’d worn to the conference. Her knee-length skirt curved around her belly, wide hips, and her full, luscious ass. She’d topped it with a silk blouse featuring a surplice neckline ending just above the décolletage, professional and alluring at the same time. A plum and navy woven blazer and opaque black leggings pulled the outfit together. On her feet were a pair of mid-heel ankle boots, and on her shoulder, a heavy-looking Saffiano tote.

I stepped back. “Come in.”

She stepped inside to linger awkwardly in the living area.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked.

“No, I’m good.”

When I offered her a seat, she set her bag down and lowered herself into a chair. I sat facing her.

“I’m still curious,” she began. “Why did you come all this way?”

I drew in my thick brows. “I thought I told you at the café.”

“And that’s it? You don’t want anything else?”

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