Page 62 of Right Where I Belong
Dilnaz walked her through each event—the location, the host, the menu, the décor. Sabrina tweaked a dessert here, changed the flowers there, swapped an invite design somewhere else. The month’s calendar was packed, and she loved being in the middle of it all, her mind buzzing with ideas and decisions.
Something sparked against Sabrina’s skin. It started as a slow prickle, a pull. She rubbed the back of her nape, inhaling sharply. It felt like the air itself had shifted.
She looked up, and her jaw fell open.
Aditya was standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, watching her. Their eyes locked, and her breath caught. He was here, and suddenly, every single emotion she’d ever felt in his presence crashed through her in a dizzying wave—happiness, joy, heat, want, hunger, craving, and this undeniable urge to be consumed by him.
A shaky breath escaped her lungs. Why did this man hold so much power over her? Why did she feel so alive, so whole in his presence?
She studied him. Dressed in a dark gray suit, navy blue shirt, its top two buttons open, his hair swept back, and a slight stubble on his jaw, he looked… Perfect. He was perfect in every way.
But he wasn’t smiling. His jaw was taut, his expression unreadable, and that serious, unblinking gaze had her pulse tripping.
Sensing her attention had drifted, her assistant turned and froze.
“Oh,” Dilnaz murmured, glancing between them.
“We’ll continue this later,” Sabrina said quickly, forcing her voice to sound business-like.
Dilnaz nodded. Closing her iPad, she slipped out past him. Sabrina rounded her desk to stand in front of it. Aditya stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound was too loud in the sudden quiet. He didn’t speak, just walked toward her, each step slow, deliberate, purposeful.
Her fingers curled into fists as the urge to go to him and touch him slammed through her. But she couldn’t do it. Shewouldn’t. His gaze never left hers. Every nerve in her body sparked as his molten, unrelenting focus pinned her in place. By the time he stopped in front of her, she was acutely aware of just how small the office felt, how tall he was, and how the room suddenly felt hot. Too hot.
He stopped in front of her desk, close enough that the faint spice of his cologne hit her nostrils, tugging at memories she’d tried hard but failed to bury, reminding her how miserable she’d been without him. It all but told her that she wasn’t the same woman who’d left Mumbai for Singapore. She had changed, and it was all thanks to him.
“You’ve been ignoring me, beautiful.” His low voice distracted her from her thoughts. “You haven’t answered my calls or texts.”
Sabrina forced herself to meet his gaze. “You know why.”
His jaw tightened. “You ran from my bed, Sabrina. Slipped out before I woke up because you didn’t want to have a difficult conversation with me. Such a coward.”
“I’m not a coward,” she looked up at him. “It was simply better that way.”
“For you,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “It was better for you that way. You knew I wanted to talk to you, and yet you ran away.”
She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering under the weight of his stare. “Don’t do this, Aditya. We’d decided that we were temporary. We are done. Over.”
“I’m not done with you. This, us… We are not over. Not by a long shot.”
He leaned over her. His body barely touched hers, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him, lighting her up. Every muscle in her body tensed, caught between the instinct to move back and the need to stay exactly where she was. Her pulse roared in her ears. God help her, she couldn’t move even if she wanted to.
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the desk. “Aditya, please?—”
“Please what?” he cut in softly, tracing a hand down her jaw. “Please stop? Please give you space and leave you alone so you can pretend none of it ever happened between us? Not gonna do that, beautiful.”
She drew in a slow breath, turning her face from his touch. “This isn’t going to work. You know I can’t do this with you here in Mumbai.”
His mouth curved. “No. What I know is that you’re scared. That you’ve convinced yourself that you and I cannot work. That we cannot be together here, where we’ll be judged by our family and friends. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her heart thudded so hard, but she kept quiet. His molten gaze swept over her face, lingering at her mouth before zeroing in on her eyes.
“Tell me,” he said quietly, “tell me you haven’t missed me.”
“I haven’t…” She gulped.
A faint smile crossed his lips. “So, you haven’t missed me at all? You haven’t thought of me every damn second of every damn day that we’ve been apart?”
“I haven’t,” she said, her tone not sounding convincing even to her own ears.
