Page 37 of Control

I felt guilty for eavesdropping, but Jai wasn’t an open book, and if this had anything to do with his accident, I wanted to know what he was up against. I moved closer to the side of the doorway, so none of the house staff would spot me if they passed by.

“I don’t know how many fucking times I need to tell you and Shyam that I’ll fix it!” Jai’s voice bellowed.

“Do it now, because we both know L—”

Too consumed with the conversation, I lost my balance and knocked my shoulder against the doorway loudly. The voices stopped and footsteps approached where I was standing.

The door swung open and the man from the hospital stood in front of me. This time, his face was tense, his jaw clenched. When he looked into my startled eyes, his expression softened. “Miss Varon.”

“Claire,” I offered nervously.

“Hello, Claire. I’m guessing you came to see this guy.” He motioned to Jai sitting up in bed, his shirtless chest, marred by three dark patches of discoloration on full display, a harsh reminder of the collision.

“I…um…I’m sorry to intrude. I brought food.” I held up the paper bag, now damp from the steam that had been locked inside for so long.

“Come in.” Jai’s voice was still thick from anger. I stepped into the massive room, taking in the dark walls and light gray headboard that matched with the side tables. Masculine and mysterious, just like its inhabitant.

My eyes flashed back to his broad chest, smooth and tanned with mounds of muscle cut so sharply they would scrape my hand if I skimmed it along that board of steel. Even the dark blue stain from his injuries couldn’t discourage my imagination.

“What’s in the bag, baby girl?” he asked, interfering with my ogling session. His lips fixed into the cheekiest of smiles, enjoying my interest in what he was serving.

I cleared my throat. “Bagels.”

“Sounds delicious. Come here and show me,” he said, voice so viscous with sin that I knew he wasn’t referring to the seven-dollar contents of the bag.

I smiled at the man in front of me apologetically, since Jai no longer seemed to care about or desire his presence. “Would you like one? I bought extra…I’m sorry. What was your name?”

“Zayn,” he replied, warm and appreciative of the gesture. “No, thank you. I should actually be on my way.”

I nodded. “It was nice meeting you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said as he tipped his head to me before walking past me to leave, but not without out stopping to give Jai one more glance. “Good luck with that one.” He winked at me before leaving through the open door.

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

“Did you come all this way to stand over there and laugh at me, beautiful?” Jai asked.

“If I say yes, what are you going to do about it? Get up and punish me?” I nodded toward his bruises.

“I would do anything to feel my palm against your ass, so don’t tempt me.” His gaze roamed hungrily over the area of my body that was concealed by shorts.

I moved closer to the bed, unwilling to find out if he was bluffing. As much as his words stirred the butterflies in my stomach, I didn’t want him to risk injury. “What was all that about?” I looked back at the door Zayn had just walked through.

“Nothing. Zayn’s just being an overprotective brother.” He took the soggy bag from me, peeking inside to make his selection.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had another brother.” He had never mentioned it. I’d just assumed it was only Shyam and Jai.

I took a seat on the edge of the bed, noticing the way the sheets were bunched up around his waist. Was he naked under there? I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat from thinking of what must have been rubbing against the soft, white linens.

Holding up cinnamon-swirl bagel, he replied between bites, “Not biological. But he was raised with us. His father worked for ours, so my mother took care of him while his father was working.”

That would explain the reason he’d been at the hospital and the look of worry that had matched that of Amelia’s—family concern. I also remembered Shyam’s expression—pure anger.

“What’s got your forehead wrinkled like that?” he asked.

“When we were at the hospital, all of us were worried about you.” His face beamed instantly at my admission of concern for him. “But your brother…Shyam…he seemed angry. Why?”

Dismissing my question, he took another bite of his bagel. “He’s always angry.”

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