Page 10 of Marriage Bargain With Her Brazilian Boss (Billion-Dollar Fairy Tales)

But enough was enough. To think of her new interests and distractions in life as a phase was one thing. But learning that she was unhappy to the point that she felt she had to walk away, that she’d even begun to hate him...that was intolerable. On some level, it felt like a personal failure.

He stilled outside Rao’s study, hand raised for a knock, a new realization twisting through him with a crystal-clear clarity.

Anushka was his Achilles’ heel.

The one person that made him act out of character. The one person with whom his relationship defied any sort of definition. And that should have sent him away, should have been warning enough.

But he didn’t heed it.

Past midnight, Nush found herself walking through her grandfather’s study like some night wraith. She’d been unable to sleep, the thought of leaving sending her mind in a thousand directions.

One hand wrapped around a warm mug of milk, she inhaled the scent of Thaata’s hand-rolled cigars and something else.

It took her two breaths to figure it out.

Caio’s scent. Of course, he’d been working out of here for a few months now. Jesus, wherever she went in this house, he was present to tease and taunt her.

His anger earlier in the evening had shocked her. Maybe because she’d never seen that cold will targeted at her. Maybe because she’d never really gone toe-to-toe with him. For a second, she’d even wondered if he could sense her frustration. If he could feel...

No.

God, she was just going in circles again and again. Driving herself out of her mind imagining things that weren’t real.

Putting the mug away, she pulled her feet up and settled into the leather chair. The soft, worn leather enveloped her like an embrace she desperately needed. Closing her eyes, it was easy to imagine it was Caio’s arms around her. With a choked cry, she bent her cheek to the desk.

And that was how Caio found her—rubbing her face against the rough grain of the dark oak desk he’d built with his own hands three years ago. Imagining it was those calloused fingers that stroked her.

The study door closed with a thud that made her heart follow with its own beat.

Heat and awareness charged each other across her skin as she felt his gaze take in the picture she made. Of her spaghetti top and skimpy shorts she hadn’t covered up in her urgent need to escape her bed.

Arms hugging the cool wood, she stayed like that—trying to calm the ache in her breasts, the fire simmering in her belly, wondering if he’d leave. But he had every right to linger here, to mourn her grandfather and she wasn’t going to push her company on him.

Straightening away from the desk, Nush got to her feet and walked around the desk on the opposite side.

“Don’t leave on my account,” he said, his tone smooth. His control firmly back in place. “Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

Her eyes got acclimated to the darkness as she searched for him. Moonlight outlined his broad shoulders and tapered waist. “Yes. But I’ll go back now.”

When his hands moved to the light switch, she said, “No, don’t. I’m not...dressed properly.”

His surprise was a taut thread in the room, reaching for her, pulling at her.

Nush closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all. It revealed too much of the thrumming awareness that touched her when he was near. Telling him it was hard to be around him right now was the grown-up thing to do. Instead, she was doing everything but. Playing a stupid game.

“Nush...”

“Please, Caio. I don’t want to fight.”

“As you wish, Princesa.”

“Why are you so easygoing with me?” she asked, breaking her own rule. “I was the one who behaved illogically earlier. The one who came at you out of nowhere.”

She could see that vertical ridge between his brows again. “What?”

“You are different with everyone else. Even with Thaata, I think. You never give an inch, Caio. You’re arrogant, demanding, ruthless even. Yana, I know, is definitely a little scared of you. But with me...a different side of you comes out. You’re gentle, understanding, far too accommodating. Even when I’m behaving like a brat.”

He laughed and she let it envelop her like a lover’s embrace. His embrace. “My father would have enjoyed to hear me being called accommodating.”

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