Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TRIGGER
Isettle back into my chair as Santiago finishes his story about Rohan's first attempt at bullfighting when he was twelve, something about a neighbor's goat and a red tablecloth.
Even Asha is laughing, and I let myself enjoy the sound.
We've both been a ball of nerves since we said our vows, and hearing her laugh feels like a weight has been lifted.
Her laugh is my happiness, and on the heels of that kiss we shared in the kitchen, I can't help but feel hopeful that things are changing between us.
"These are perfect," Asha says softly, breaking off a corner of the pastry. "Just like—" She stops herself and glances at Dar.
Dar gives her a knowing smile. "Just like I taught you," she finishes for her.
I can't be sure what they were talking about before I entered the kitchen, but I know whatever it was must have been intense.
It was written all over Asha's face when I walked in.
It was why I wasn't convinced when she kissed me that she did it for any reason other than to keep up appearances.
However, the way I watch something pass between them now…
I know it must have been about her father or maybe even her mother.
They've been separated by an ocean and family drama for years, and I'm only beginning to understand how deep that must be for her.
"This evening has been…" Asha pauses, setting down her napkin as she finds the right words. "Everything. Thank you so much for opening your home to us in this way."
"We wouldn't have it any other way," Santiago says. "It's not often we get to—"
"Actually," Dar interrupts, reaching down beside her chair.
She pulls out a portfolio, and I feel the shift in the air immediately.
"If the two of you are ready to sign, I'd like to get this out of the way so we can truly enjoy what time we have left together this week and not worry or stress about this merger. "
She slides the contract across the table, and I reach for it, holding it so that Asha can review it with me.
I flip through the pages, scanning the terms we've already negotiated via email and video calls.
Everything looks in order. Standard partnership agreement, profit sharing, and operational oversight.
I'm about to reach for the pen Dar's offering when Asha goes still beside me.
Her hand wraps around my wrist. "My name is on it," she says quietly.
Dar's brow furrows, confusion flickering across her features. "Is that a problem?"
I look down at the contract again—really look this time. There it is, my name and Asha's, listed together.
Trigger and Asha Hale, co-owners.
Asha's face has gone carefully blank, that mask she wears when she's about to bolt.
I've seen it enough times now to recognize it.
Hot and cold, this woman. Fire and ice. And I can't get enough of her particular brand of crazy.
But this time, I see something deeper. The way her hand is applying firm pressure around my wrist is a warning.
This isn't just about her father not knowing Dar is her aunt, though that's certainly part of it.
This is about us. About a contract that will tie her to me long after our one-year arrangement ends.
I cover her hand with mine, feeling her pulse jump against my palm. "Can you excuse us?" I say, keeping my voice even. "We need a minute. We haven't talked about how this affects things when we get home."
It's vague enough. Dar doesn't need to know that Asha still hasn't told her father she not only knows he has a sister, but that his sister is my new business partner.
Santiago doesn't need to know our marriage has an expiration date.
Nobody needs to know that I've fallen for my fake wife, and she's simultaneously kissing me and running from me in the same breath.
"Of course," Dar says, though her eyes narrow slightly.
Asha's already pushing back from the table, mumbling apologies. I follow her into the hallway, pulling the heavy wooden door closed behind us.
"Asha, what's—"
"I can't sign that," she says, her voice tight.
She's staring at a painting on the wall, like it holds the answers to all her problems. "We can tell them I'm not comfortable having my name on the contract because of my father. I’m fine with admitting he and I haven't talked and that he doesn't know Dar and I have found each other. "
I step closer, unable to help myself. "Is that what you really want?"
"Trigger, what kind of question is that? This is your merger, not mine. This contract lasts longer than our arrangement, which means—"
"I know what it means," I interrupt her. She finally looks at me, and there's something raw in her dark eyes. "So, I'll ask you again. Do you really want your name removed?"
Her lips part, and for a second, I think she might answer honestly.
Might tell me what's really going on in that brilliant, complicated head of hers.
But then she shakes her head. "You don't understand.
When my father finds out about Dar, about this whole thing, he's going to.
.." She breaks off. "And now my name is on a contract that makes me your business partner on top of your wife?
He's going to lose it. You thought he hated you before; that will be nothing compared to what comes after this. "
"I'm not worried about what your father may or may not do. I'm worried about one thing and one thing only." I place my hand on the wall beside her head. "You."
We stand there in the hallway, close enough that I could kiss her again if I wanted to. If she wanted me to. And God help me, I think maybe she does. I think maybe that's what scares her most.
"What are you really afraid of?" I ask softly. "Your father finding out about Dar? Or the fact that, when this year is up, you won't want to walk away?"
Her breath catches. Bullseye.
"Asha, I'll be honest with you; I have no idea what I'm doing here.
You run hot and cold so fast I get whiplash.
One minute, you're kissing me like the world's ending, and the next, you're looking at me like I'm a stranger.
But I'm drawn to you anyway. All your crazy, all your complications… I can't get enough of it. Of you."
She stares at me, something wild and terrified in her expression. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
"We have a deal," she attempts to make excuses.
"Screw the deal." I cup her face, making her look at me. "I'm not talking about the deal. I'm talking about this. Us. What happens in this hallway when nobody's watching and we don't have to pretend."
"There is no us," she whispers, but her hand comes up to cover mine, holding it against her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft, and I can feel the slight tremble in her fingers. "There can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because,” her voice breaks. "Because in one year, this ends. You go your way, and I go mine. That was the agreement. That was safe."
"And the contract in there?" I nod toward the dining room. "That's not safe?"
"No," she admits. "It's not. Because it means we're tied together after. And I don't…" She closes her eyes. "I don't know how to want something I can't keep."
"Who says you can't keep it?"
Her eyes open, locking onto mine, and God, I hate the fear I see in them. That raw vulnerability she tries so hard to hide. It's that hate, that desperate need to erase it, that has me pressing on.
"I can't promise it will be easy," I say, brushing my thumb across her cheek.
She leans into the touch almost unconsciously.
"I've never done this, never had what I feel for you with anyone else.
All I know is I don't want it to go away.
" Her eyes soften, and that wall she keeps between us cracks just slightly.
"I want to try something." My other hand finds her waist, and she doesn't pull away.
Doesn't run. My eyes search hers, looking for permission, for any sign I should stop. "Tell me I can."
She nods, barely perceptible, and that's all I need.
I close the distance between us, my hand sliding from her cheek to tangle in her hair.
She rises on her toes to meet me halfway, and when our lips connect, it's like something inside me ignites.
This isn't like the careful kisses we've shared before, the ones we could blame on the act, on maintaining appearances.
This is raw, and honest, and completely us.
She hums softly as her hands slide around my waist, sending delicious tendrils of heat straight to my cock as she pulls me closer.
I back her against the wall, my body pressing against hers, and she opens for me, deepening the kiss until I forget where I end and she begins.
She tastes like the sweet chutney from the samosas and wine, and I want to drown in it.
Her fingers dig into my hips, and I swallow the gasp that escapes her when my thumbs brush over the bare skin where her shirt has ridden up slightly.
Heat radiates between us, and I can feel her heart hammering against my chest, matching the wild rhythm of my own.
I want more. Want everything. Want to lift her up, feel her legs wrap around me, find out if she makes those same sounds when…
No. I force myself to break away, resting my forehead against hers as we both struggle to breathe.
My hands are still on her waist, her fingers still tangled in my hair, neither of us willing to let go completely.
"If you can tell me you felt nothing," I manage, my voice rough, "that that kiss isn't worth the risk, we'll go in there and remove your name."
She's quiet, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips swollen and parted.
I can see her trying to regain her bearings, trying to rebuild that wall.
Her eyes are dazed, unfocused, and I know she felt every second of the passion we just shared.
I can still taste her on my lips, still feel the phantom pressure of her body against mine.
But she doesn't comment on the kiss, doesn't acknowledge what just happened between us.
I wouldn't expect anything else from her.
This is who Asha is: brilliant, complicated, terrified of vulnerability.
She can't just shut that off, can't suddenly become someone who wears her heart on her sleeve just because I kissed her senseless in a hallway.
But little by little, she's trying. Little by little, I'm breaking down those walls, and each time I do, they might go back up, but they aren't as tall.
I can see it in the way her hand still hovers near her lips, like she can't quite believe what just happened.
In the way she hasn't stepped away from me yet, hasn't put the safe distance between us that she usually would. Progress. It's progress.
Instead, in true Asha form, she focuses on the contract. "I have one condition." Her voice is steadier than I expected, though I can still hear the breathlessness underneath. "One condition, and I'll keep my name on that contract."
"Name it, sweetheart." I'm still close enough that I could kiss her again. Part of me wants to. Part of me knows if I do, we won't make it back to that dining room.
"No killing bulls." She swallows, and I watch the wheels turn behind her eyes.
"What I saw the other day, with you in that pen…
" She trails off, and there's real fear in her eyes now.
A different kind. I know what she thought was going to happen, and after she automatically assumed the worst, I didn't correct her.
"I never want to see that at home. These are their traditions. I don't want my name tied to that."
"Done." The answer comes easily. I'd agree to anything right now if it means keeping her close, keeping her name next to mine on that contract.
She slips under my arm, breaking our connection, and reaches for the door handle. Her hand trembles slightly as she grips it.
"Oh, and Asha?" I say, my voice low.
She glances back, her hair slightly mussed from my fingers, her lips still red from our kiss.
"It's our name."