Page 31 of His Smile
“Eat,” he commanded, grabbing his own fork.
Taking a bite of the steaming food, Rahina closed her eyesin a small moan of appreciation. “This is so good,” she praised between bites.“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Drinking some of his wine, Roman leaned back on his chair.One of his knees brushing against hers with the movement. “I own a fewrestaurants,” he explained with a casual shrug. “I sometimes like to drop inunannounced on my chefs and watch them squirm as they try to guess why I amthere. I may or may not pick up a few things along the way.”
Setting down her wine to keep from spilling it, she used hernapkin to hide her cough as she laughed. She could just imagine the grinninggangster doing just that. “You know, it would just be easier, and not tomention kinder, to just watch some cooking shows.”
His smile twisted into a small frown as he shook his head.“And miss out on the hands-on experience?”
“You mean the entertainment of watching them squirm,” shepointed out.
Reaching over her refilled her wine glass. “That too, ofcourse.”
“Well, you may be right about the hands-on experiencething,” she took the last bite of her pasta and reached for his empty plate andhers. Without waiting, she slid from her stool and carried the empty dishesaround the counter and found the dishwasher hiding amongst the black cabinets. “Icannot tell you how many times my mom nagged me to pay attention as she triedto teach my sisters and I to cook.”
Getting up, he walked around the other side of the longcounter and met her on the other side of the sink. Without the need for words,they worked as a mini assembly line, gathering dishes, rinsing, and stackingthem into the dishwasher.
“I take it you did not pay attention during those lessons,”she could hear the smirk in his voice and knew he was referring to hercontinuous consumption of pre-packaged meals.
“Yeah,” she confessed heavily.
Memories of her mother’s disappointed face and iratelectures came to mind. Rubina dutifully learned their mother’s recipes andreplicated her movements in the kitchen while Rahina had spent most of her timetalking and dancing around the kitchen with her younger sister, Safina. Theidea of standing behind a hot stove for hours cooking didn’t appeal to Rahinaone bit. Why should she, she had thought? It wasn’t like cooking was requiredanymore, they weren’t poor or living far away from society. This was thetwenty-first century, and she was going to be a modern woman who made her ownrules and did things her way. Or at least that was always what she thought, butnow Rahina couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have helped a bit just toappease her mother on that one thing and just learn to cook.
The sound of the dishwasher’s washing cycle beginning shookher out of her reverie. Looking to Roman, she put on a too bright smile at hisunreadable look. “Thank you for dinner, I…”
Closing the distance between them, Roman stepped forward andwrapped one hand around her back, pulling her towards him. Pressed close tohim, she could feel the fabric of his jeans scraping against the skin of herthighs. Using his thumb, he traced the curve of her lips. “Don’t,” he spokewith a quiet magnitude that resonated through her body. “Do not give me a fakesmile.”
“Coming from the man who wields his smile like a weapon?”
Roman said nothing in reply nor did his grip around her move.Staring up into his eyes, her body began to lose its tension. Eyes thatprobably evoked fear in so many men left her captivated, and in awe, at thesecret trace of warmth, he seemed to show only her. How did this man make herfeel so powerless in his arms but give her a look that felt as if he wasbeholding someone invincible? It felt as if he knew something about her thateven she didn’t know as if there was a secret at the edge of that smile.
“Do you,” he spoke inches from her lips, “really want to smile?”
Her head tilted instinctively at the proximity of his lips.She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. “No,” her voice was thick.
“Then come here.” He guided her out the living room,grabbing the bottle of wine and their glasses off the counter as he passed.Sitting on the couch first, he pulled her down next to him. Behind the couchwas a long narrow mirrored table that allowed him to set the wine and glasseson. Leaning partly in the corner of the tufted couch, he spread his arms alongthe back of the couch, sending her a silent invitation to come closer.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his narrowwaist and leaned her face against the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes flutteredclose at the warm feeling of his muscled chest. For a few moments, neither oneof them said anything. Staring out the darkened windows ahead, she listened tothe steady beat of his heart against her ear.
“I guess what hurts the most from all this,” she confessedquietly. “Is the thought of my mother’s disapproving face as she tells me, “Itold you so”when she hears the news.”
Rahina closed her eyes when she felt his hand settle ontoher back, radiating heat through the flimsy fabric of her tank top.
“Would she have been happy if you would have gotten theposition?” his voice sounded like a thunderstorm beneath her ear.
Not opening her eyes, her skin tightened and tingled as shefelt his hand on her back move to toy with her long braid. Goosebumps rippledacross her skin as she felt his handwork at the end of the braid and slowlymake his way up. For the longest moment, she could not tell what he was doingexactly, but when she felt some of her hair fall to her waist, she let out aninvoluntary shiver as she realized he was loosening her hair from the braid.
Actively she tried to focus her thoughts on his words andcontrol the shivers that ran through her body at his touch. “I don’t think so,”she admitted. “She would have probably seen it as me going further down therabbit hole of dance and further from what she wants.”
“Which is marriage and grandchildren I presume,” his fingershad worked themselves to the base of her neck.
Rahina squeezed her eyes tighter at the sensual feeling sucha simple touch caused as she nodded her head in agreement. With her braidcompletely undone, a desperate part of her hoped he wouldn’t pull his handaway. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and she knew he had to feel itagainst his stomach in their position. He didn’t pull away though, his handskept moving through her thick hair, massaging the base of her scalp. Slow,gentle circles kneading every drop of her remaining strength out of her bodyuntil she lay completely limp.
“Tell me, has your mother ever been satisfied with any ofher daughters?”
“She has been happy with us,” she felt a sudden necessarystab of guilt to defend her mother. “She just has certain expectations andwants for us to…oh,” her words ended in a surprise satisfied groan as his handslid lower to her shoulder and began working at the stiff muscle.
“Your mother does not sound like someone who is eversatisfied. Even if you quit ballet and received your doctorate, she would wantto know when you will get married. Once you are married, she will wantgrandchildren. And once you have children, she would most likely startpressuring you on how you are raising them,” his other hand joined in on hershoulder working at her sudden stiffening.
