CHAPTER XV THE GOLD OUT OF ASHES
Tara was a goddess of control and cruelty.
She stood tall and magnificent in the centre of a room that looked like their guest room but felt like a temple built for worship and ruin.
The oversized shirt had already been discarded, silk puddled at her feet like surrendered banners.
Naked, she was breathtaking — long legs, elegant curves, the sharp line of her collarbones catching the low light like blades.
Her hazel eyes were dark, hooded, and gleaming with that dangerous, sadistic hunger that always made Ishaani's knees buckle.
"Come here," Tara commanded, voice low and velvet-rough.
Ishaani dropped to her knees without hesitation at Tara's feet.
The carpet was soft beneath her palms, but the position made her feel small, exposed and utterly owned.
Tara's hand reached out and, without event, fisted in her hair, yanking her head back sharply.
The sting bloomed hot across her scalp, shooting straight between her legs like liquid fire.
Ishaani didn't understand why having Tara act so mean turned her on so much, but drawing a conclusion, she could tell it had links to some of her issues, whether her validation issues or her mommy issues.
"You've been pining for me all night," Craning her head down and inching closer to Ishaani's ear, Tara murmured, lips brushing the outer lobe. "Haven't you? Aching. Desperate. Thinking you could push me against the wall and take what you wanted, as if I owed you something."
Ishaani whimpered, the sound needy and broken.
Her thighs pressed together, slick heat dripping down her skin.
She was soaked — embarrassingly, shamefully wet — just from the tone of Tara's voice.
She found it so peculiar how Tara's voice at any given moment served to make shivers run down her spine.
Tara smiled against her throat — slow, cruel, satisfied. "Not tonight."
She shoved Ishaani onto her back on the bed, climbing over her with deliberate, and loving intent.
Tara straddled her hips, knees pinning Ishaani's arms to her sides, leaving her completely helpless.
The weight of Tara's body pressed her down into the mattress, skin hot and demanding, slit already slick and dripping onto Ishaani's stomach.
Tara didn't ask. She took whatever she wanted, no matter the occasion or place.
She ground down against Ishaani's thigh first, slick heat sliding over skin as she chased her own pleasure with single-minded, almost cruel intensity.
Her hands pinned Ishaani's wrists above her head, nails digging in hard enough to leave crescents.
Every roll of her hips was deliberate, ruthless, using Ishaani's body like it existed solely for her relief.
Ishaani moaned, hips jerking up instinctively, desperate for any friction. Tara's eyes flashed with dark amusement.
"Quiet," she hissed, voice low and venomous.
"You don't get to make a sound until I say so.
" Ishaani looked up at the woman with her big, doe-like eyes almost enthralled by Tara's beauty and her scarce controlling demeanor for the night.
Tara realized the headspace she had sent Ishaani into and smiled self-sufficiently, as if quite proud of that achievement.
"You're just a toy tonight, Bambi. My pretty, dripping little toy. "
She leaned down, biting Ishaani's lower lip hard enough to sting, then soothed it with her tongue.
Her hips moved faster, grinding harder, slick folds sliding against Ishaani's thigh with wet, obscene sounds.
Tara's breathing grew ragged, but she kept perfect control — chasing her orgasm with merciless focus, using Ishaani's body without mercy or apology.
Ishaani whimpered again, unable to stop herself. Tara's hand cracked down on her thigh — a sharp, stinging smack that made Ishaani jolt.
"I said, quiet, Bambi."
The pain bloomed hot and perfect.
Ishaani bit her lip bloody trying to stay silent, tears pricking her eyes as Tara rode her thigh harder, faster, chasing her release with single-minded hunger.
Tara's nails dug into Ishaani's wrists, her hips rolling with increasing desperation until she came with a low, guttural moan, thighs clamping around Ishaani's leg, flooding her skin with heat.
Tara didn't stop moving immediately. She ground through the aftershocks, prolonging her pleasure, using Ishaani until she was completely spent, hips jerking in shallow, possessive thrusts.
Only then did she shift back, looking down at the wrecked, trembling mess beneath her.
Ishaani was panting, thighs slick with Tara's release, eyes glassy with desperate, aching need, body trembling with unfulfilled arousal.
Drool had slipped from the corner of her mouth, mixing with tears on her cheeks.
She looked utterly debased — a drooling, whimpering mess — and Tara's smile was slow, wicked, utterly satisfied.
"Look at you," Tara murmured, voice dark with cruel affection. "Such a pathetic, drooling little mess for me." Tara let her hand cradle the side of Ishaani's sweaty face, "So desperate you can't even keep your mouth closed, Bambi."
She reached down, gathering the mess on Ishaani's chin with two fingers and abruptly pushed them into Ishaani's mouth making Ishaani jolt slightly.
"Suck," she ordered.
Ishaani obeyed instantly, sucking greedily, tongue swirling around Tara's fingers like it was the only thing keeping her sane. Her hips twitched helplessly, aching and empty, dripping onto the sheets.
Tara watched her with hooded eyes, a sadistic little smile playing on her lips. "Good baby. Now... let's see how long you can last before you start begging like the needy whore you are."
GASP!
And, Hence, Ishaani was now half-asleep, body warm and heavy with exhaustion, when her hand began to wander.
It slid under Tara's borrowed t-shirt, fingers tracing the smooth skin of her waist, then higher, brushing the underside of her breast with sleepy, instinctive hunger.
A soft, needy sound escaped Ishaani's throat as she pressed closer, hips shifting against Tara's thigh.
Tara's eyes opened in the dark.
She lay still for a moment, letting Ishaani's hand explore, feeling the heat building between them. Then, with a quiet sigh that was half-amusement, half-exasperation, she caught Ishaani's wrist gently but firmly.
"Not tonight, Bambi," she whispered, voice low and rough with sleep. "You're sleepy. And I'm not in the mood to be gentle."
Ishaani made a small, protesting sound, trying to press closer. Tara's grip tightened just enough to still her.
"Bambi, off," Tara said, softer now, but unmistakable in its command. "Couch. Go!"
Ishaani hesitated, eyes glassy with want, but the steel in Tara's voice won.
She slipped out of bed with a quiet huff, padding barefoot to the living room.
The couch welcomed her with cool leather and a thin blanket Nayonica had left out.
She curled up, frustrated and aching, but too tired to fight.
Sleep claimed her eventually.
Back at the Rajvanshi mansion, the night had become a long, merciless vigil.
The landline rang again. And again. Each shrill burst cut through the heavy silence like a blade.
Devika stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, looking composed even in her dishevelled state.
Vedika sat at the study desk, laptop open but untouched, eyes fixed on the phone as if willing it to stop.
Rajeev's voice had already filled the room twice that evening — furious, demanding, eloquent in his rage.
Devika finally picked up on the fifth ring.
"Papa," she said, voice tight.
"Where is she?" Rajeev's voice boomed through the speaker, raw with anger. "I've been calling for hours. Her phone is off. Her friends aren't picking up. What the hell have you done to my daughter?"
Vedika's jaw clenched. "She left like we have already told you. After... everything. She's safe. She's with Nayonica. That is all that she told us."
"Safe?" Rajeev laughed, harsh and ugly. "My youngest daughter runs away from her own home because of your fighting and you call that safe?
Bring her back. Now. I'm staying in Delhi until this fire dies down.
I will not have the Rajvanshi name dragged through the mud because of Tara Kapoor's influence and your inability to control your sister. "
Devika's knuckles whitened around the phone. "We're trying, Papa. But she's hurt. She needs space."
"Space?" Rajeev's voice rose. "She needs discipline. She needs to remember who she is. And Tara — Thank God! If that girl hadn't left our house, I would've been even madder. She was a characterless, back-stabbing woman and time would serve to only prove me right."
Vedika spoke, voice strained. "Papa, Tara isn't the only problem here. We're all—"
"Don't," Rajeev cut her off, smooth and cutting. "Don't defend her. She orchestrated that scene at the Sen party. She risked my daughter for her own games. I will not have it. Fix this. Or I will."
The call ended with a sharp and utterly dismissive click.
Silence fell again, heavier than before. It was evident that Tara's absence was taking a toll on Vedika and Devika, yet they were too proud to admit any of it."
Devika set the phone down slowly. "He's right about one thing. This is getting out of hand."
Vedika rubbed her face. "We keep calling her friends. Nayonica isn't picking up. Sparshi sent one message saying Ishaani is safe and then went silent. Saarakshi isn't answering either."
Vedika spoke from the doorway again, voice calm but edged. "She needs time. We pushed her too hard."
Devika turned on her, eyes flashing. "We pushed her? Your friend staged a public scandal that forced her to punch a man in front of cameras. Your friend kissed her in front of the world. And now you want to talk about pushing her too hard?"
Vedika stood up, voice rising. "She's acting like a brat because of us, Didi, and running away. Ignoring us. Choosing Tara over her own family. What kind of hold do you have on her? We solely keep orbiting around that one baseless topic of reputation."
Devika laughed bitterly. "Reputation? This isn't about reputation. This is about my baby sister throwing her life away for someone who treats everything like a chess game. Tara doesn't love her."
The argument spiraled — accusations flying, voices rising, exhaustion and fear twisting into sharp, ugly words. They blamed Tara. They blamed each other. They blamed Ishaani for running.
But beneath it all was the same exhausted truth: Ishaani was gone, and none of them knew how to bring her back without breaking what little remained.
Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains like a hesitant apology, soft and pale.
The deep maroon walls absorbed the glow, turning it into something warmer, more intimate.
The low velvet sofa still held the imprint of bodies from the night before, and the faint scent of coconut shampoo and vanilla lingered like a sanctuary.
Ishaani woke slowly on the couch, curled under a thin blanket Nayonica must have draped over her at some point, since she hadn't done it herself.
Her body ached in the best and worst ways — thighs sore, lips still swollen from Tara's kisses, core throbbing with leftover need.
She had come to the couch instead, hoping the distance would cool her down.
It hadn't.
DING!
The doorbell rang.
Ishaani sat up, rubbing her eyes, just as Nayonica emerged from the kitchen with coffee and opened the door.
Ishicka Sen Malhotra stood on the threshold, elegant in a crisp white blouse and tailored trousers, looking every inch the formidable socialite. She took one look at Ishaani — rumpled, sleepy, clearly having slept on the couch — and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.
"Why are you sleeping on the couch, Ishi?" Ishicka asked, voice smooth but laced with amusement. "Did Tara kick you out of bed?"
Ishaani's face burned crimson. She scrambled for words. "No— I mean— I had a bad dream and didn't want to wake her. So I came out here. It's nothing."
Ishicka's lips twitched. "A bad dream...Right."
Nayonica snorted from the kitchen. "She's a terrible liar, didi"
Ishicka stepped inside, handing Nayonica a paper bag, with the clear Louboutins logo. "So Kate and her sister, as requested. And for you," she said, turning to Ishaani with a knowing look, "I'll get you a little something to help with the 'bad dreams'."
Tara emerged from the guest room then, hair tousled, wearing one of Ishaani's oversized t-shirts. She looked softer in the morning light, but her eyes sharpened the moment she saw Ishicka.
Ishicka smiled. "Kapoor. You look like you've had a long night."
Tara's smirk was faint. "Productive one."
Ishicka handed her the pendrive directly. "Last 6 months' security footage from the firm and the mansion. You might see someone... interesting."
Tara took it, fingers brushing Ishicka's. "Thank you."
Ishicka tilted her head. "Why are you doing this, Kapoor? Really?"
Tara met her gaze evenly. "Fame. Before I go back to London. That's all I need."
Ishicka laughed — low, rich, and knowing. "London? Please. You and I both know you're not going anywhere while my sister's best friend is wrapped around your finger. But fine. I'll get you the lawyers' impressions of what Rajeev talked about with Aurobindo. Expect it soon."
She turned to leave, pausing at the door to look at Ishaani. "Take care of yourself, little one. And tell your girlfriend she owes me at least a vacation in Geneva, for all this....charity work from me."
The door closed behind her.
Tara slipped the pendrive into her pocket, eyes gleaming with quiet calculation. The game was far from over.
But for now, in this maroon sanctuary, she had Ishaani — warm, safe, and hers. And now she held the controller, after having been kept on the sidelines for a plethora of reasons.
Tara's laptop screen glowed coldly, casting sharp blue light across her face.
She wore one of Ishaani's oversized black t-shirts and soft shorts, her hair tied back in a messy knot, a few strands escaping to frame her sharp cheekbones.
Exhaustion clung to her like perfume, but her eyes — hazel, sharp, unyielding — burned with the quiet fire of a woman who refused to lose.
Ishicka Sen Malhotra sat across from her in a sleek armchair, legs crossed, looking every inch the formidable socialite even at this hour.
Her crisp white blouse was unbuttoned at the top, dark hair falling in loose waves over one shoulder.
She watched Tara with that all-knowing, slightly amused expression — the look of someone who had survived far worse games than this one.
Tara's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the files Ishicka had delivered. Security footage. Bank records. Private messages. The safe in Aurobindo's office had given them more than they dared hope for.
She dialed C1PH3R on the encrypted line.
The distorted voice answered almost immediately, laced with its usual dry amusement.
"T.K., you really shoved your hand into gold this time."
Tara's lips curved. "Tell me what you see, Ci."
C1PHER's tone shifted into professional focus.
"The footage from the last six months is damning.
Aurobindo meeting with known traffickers in the back rooms of his own properties.
Payments routed through Sahastra's 'charity' accounts to shell companies in Singapore and Mauritius.
Also," C1PH3R took a second to deliver the next lines, as if the sheer disbelief was causing him to trail off.
"Rajeev Rajvanshi appears in three separate meetings — not direct involvement, but close enough to smell the rot.
He knew, and he benefited. He looked the other way while girls were moved like cargo. "
Ishicka leaned forward, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "My father and your girlfriend's father, Tee. Who would have thought?"
Tara was almost shocked, almost because she had never thought that Rajeev Rajvanshi would stoop so low, considering how he had 4 daughters.
She couldn't believe her ears, but hope could lie; evidence could never.
She looked over to Ishicka, who was sipping the Red, and made an exaggeratedly surprised face, and simultaneously rolled her eyes with the usual who-the-fuck-needs-to-care.
Tara's gaze flicked to the door, as if envisioning Ishaani's hypothetical expression before returning to the screen. "Keep digging. Cross-reference with the offshore ledgers we recovered. I want everything tied together before we move."
C1PH3R hummed. "Done. But...." C1PH3R hesitated for a moment before sighing, "Are you and Vedika/Devika not talking? The silence on their end is louder than usual."
Tara's fingers paused on the keyboard. A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "Long story. Can't explain it right now. But yes... there's a rift. A rather large one."
Ishicka let out a soft, knowing laugh from her chair. She looked at Tara with that all-knowing, slightly mocking glint in her eyes — the look of someone who saw through every layer.
"Nothing quite like hooking up with the youngest sister to make the older ones lose their minds," Ishicka drawled, voice dripping with amusement.
"Especially when the youngest is their precious little baby.
" Ishicka looked at Tara with a particularly teasing look and winked, "You really know how to pick your battles, Kapoor. "
Tara shot her a sharp glare, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Not helping."
Ishicka simply smirked, leaning back in the chair with feline grace. "I'm not here to help. I'm here to watch the show. As Georgina Sparks once said, "to observe and to record," And it's been quite entertaining."
Tara ignored her, turning back to the screen as C1PH3R continued feeding information.
The hours slipped by in a haze of data streams, timestamps, and quiet revelations.
The deeper they dug, the clearer the picture became — Aurobindo Sen at the centre of a web that stretched far beyond Rajveer.
Rajeev's name kept appearing in the periphery, always careful, always deniable, but undeniably present.
By the time the first hints of dawn touched the maroon walls, Tara leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Ishicka stood, stretching like a cat waking from a long nap.
"You've got enough to start squeezing," Ishicka said. "I'll get you the lawyers' impressions of what Rajeev discussed with my father. Expect it soon."
Tara nodded. "Thank you."
Ishicka paused at the door, giving Tara one last knowing look. "Try not to burn the whole city down while you're at it. Some of us still have reputations to maintain."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Tara sat in the quiet for a moment longer, the weight of the night and the files pressing on her shoulders. Then she stood, moving toward the guest room where Ishaani still slept.
But for the first time in hours, Tara allowed herself a small, tired smile.
She had gold in her hands.
And she intended to use every ounce of it.
Midnight had long since passed, but the city outside the windows refused to sleep.
Distant traffic hummed like a restless beast, horns slicing through the night in sharp, intermittent bursts.
Inside, the deep maroon walls absorbed the low glow of the single brass lamp, turning the space into something intimate and conspiratorial — a confessional built for sinners who had decided to become judges.
Tara sat at the low wooden desk, laptop screen casting a cold blue light across her sharp features.
Her hair was tied back in a messy knot again, a few dark strands escaping to frame her face.
The borrowed black t-shirt hung loose on her frame (Ishaani owned a lot of black for someone who claimed her favourite colour was Dandelion yellow), but her posture was anything but relaxed — shoulders straight, eyes narrowed, fingers flying across the keyboard with the precision of a surgeon cutting away lies.
Ishicka Sen Malhotra lounged in the armchair across from her, legs crossed, a glass of red wine held loosely in her manicured fingers (Tara always deemed Ishicka an alcoholic, but the woman was making everything measure easier for Tara, so she didn't think of pointing it out).
She watched Tara with that all-knowing, slightly amused expression — the look of a woman who had survived far worse games than this one and had learned to enjoy the carnage.
Tara's breath caught as another file opened.
The pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity.
Rajeev Rajvanshi's name wasn't on the periphery anymore.
He wasn't a cautious observer or a distant beneficiary.
He was woven into the very fabric of the operation — shell companies funnelled through his Dubai holdings, political protection extended to Sahastra's "charity" fronts, quiet meetings where girls were discussed like cargo.
He had known. He had profited. He had protected the machine that had nearly destroyed his own daughter.
Tara leaned back slowly, the weight of it settling on her chest like cold stone.
"Rajeev," she said quietly, almost to herself. "He's not just complicit. He's one of the pillars."
Ishicka took a slow sip of wine, her dark eyes gleaming. "Of course he is. Men like him never dirty their own hands. They simply ensure the hands that do stay well-paid and silent."
Tara's phone buzzed. Ishicka's trusted secretary had sent the link to the document, which required authorized incoming only— the lawyer's impressions of the private conversation between Rajeev and Aurobindo.
She opened the file.
The words stared back at her, cold and damning.
Tara's jaw tightened. The betrayal was complete.
She picked up the phone and dialed Devika first. Then added Vedika to the call.
The line connected after several rings.
Devika's voice was exhausted but sharp. "Tara. What is it?"
"I have proof," Tara said, voice steady and cold.
"Rajeev is deeper in this than we thought.
He's not just aware — he's actively protecting the network.
He warned Aurobindo about your investigation.
He told him to keep the shell companies buried.
He's one of the main pillars, Devika. The third palladin in this game. "
Silence.
Then Vedika's voice, sharp with disbelief. "That's impossible. Papa would never—"
"He did," Tara cut in, unflinching. "The lawyer's notes are clear. He was worried about exposure. He wanted the investigation stopped. Not because he was protecting you. Because he was protecting himself."
Devika's breath hitched. "Let me see the files."
Tara sent them immediately. The sisters read in silence. The tension on the other end of the line thickened until it felt like it might snap.
Vedika spoke first, voice trembling with a mix of rage and heartbreak. "He told us to stop. He said it was for the family. He looked us in the eye and lied."
Devika's voice was quieter, colder. "Now what do we do?"
Ishicka leaned forward, setting her wine glass down with a soft clink. Her voice carried clearly through the speaker.
"Don't worry," she said, smooth and lethal. "I know people. And there is nothing money can't buy when you know where to spend it." Ishicka leaned back on the couch and smiled her feline grin, "Vedika, brush up those lawyer skills. I'll be taking you ladies to court."
The line went quiet for a long moment.
Then Vedika let out a shaky breath. "So, we are actually closing it."
Tara closed her eyes, a small, tired smile touching her lips. Because this time, they were going to win.
Tara sat on the couch with her laptop balanced on her thighs, legs stretched out elegantly.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, the sharp edge of her mind had dulled just a fraction.
She knew the truth about Rajeev now — the depth of his involvement, the careful threads he had woven to protect himself.
She wouldn't tell Ishaani yet. Not until she had more.
Not until she could shield her from the worst of it.
For now, there was only this: the quiet hum of the city outside, the soft click of keys under her fingers, and the girl sprawled across the other end of the couch like a contented cat.
Ishaani was in one of Tara's t-shirts, hair messy from sleep and an earlier outing with Nayonica to the cafe downtown.
She looked younger than her twenty-two years in moments like this — impulsive, playful, full of that restless energy that came so naturally to her.
She had been poking at Tara for the last ten minutes, first with her foot, then with increasingly ridiculous questions, clearly bored and seeking attention.
"You're ignoring me," Ishaani complained, nudging Tara's thigh with her fingers. "You've been staring at that screen for hours. Come on, old lady. Entertain me."
Tara's lips twitched, but she kept typing. "Old lady? I'm thirty-three, Bambi. Not exactly ancient."
"Ancient enough," Ishaani grinned, crawling closer on her hands and knees like a predator who had spotted prey. "You're practically geriatric compared to me. I bet you can't even keep up anymore."
Tara finally looked up, one perfect eyebrow arched. The challenge in Ishaani's eyes was unmistakable — bright, mischievous, full of that reckless spark that made Tara's chest tighten with both fondness and something darker.
"Is that so?" Tara murmured, closing the laptop with deliberate slowness. She set it aside, turning fully toward Ishaani with a dangerous little smile. "You think you can take me, Bambi?"
Ishaani's grin widened, playful and cocky. "I'm a boxer. I could pin you in two seconds flat."
The play fighting started innocently enough — Ishaani lunging forward with a laugh, trying to tackle Tara back against the cushions.
Tara let her have the first move, allowing Ishaani to pin her wrists for half a second before reversing their positions with effortless strength.
Ishaani yelped in surprise as Tara flipped her onto her back, straddling her hips with powerful thighs.
"Two seconds?" Tara teased, voice low and amused, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. "You were saying?"
Ishaani laughed breathlessly, squirming beneath her, trying to buck Tara off.
Their bodies moved together in a tangle of limbs and laughter — Ishaani's compact, muscular frame straining against Tara's taller, more controlled one.
For a moment it was pure fun, playful wrestling between two people who trusted each other completely.
Ishaani managed to roll them, pinning Tara beneath her with a triumphant grin.
"Got you—"
Tara moved like water.
In one fluid motion, she hooked her leg around Ishaani's and reversed their positions again, sliding behind her.
Before Ishaani could react, Tara's arm wrapped around her throat in a loose but firm choke hold, pulling her back against her chest. The hold wasn't dangerous — Tara was careful, always careful — but it was controlling.
Dominant. Ishaani's back pressed flush against Tara's front, her smaller body trapped between powerful thighs and a strong arm.
"Tap out, Bambi," Tara whispered against her ear, voice dark and teasing, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below it. Her free hand rested possessively on Ishaani's stomach, fingers splayed. "Come on. You know you can't win this."
Ishaani laughed at first, trying to struggle free, her muscular arms flexing as she grabbed at Tara's forearm.
She was strong — years of boxing had given her real power in that lithe, compact body.
But Tara was taller, more experienced, and far more ruthless in this particular game.
She tightened the hold just enough to make Ishaani feel it — the controlled pressure against her throat, the way Tara's body enveloped hers completely.
Ishaani's laugh turned into a breathless whimper. Her hips jerked involuntarily, heat flooding between her legs at the sheer dominance. She tapped Tara's arm once. Twice.
Tara didn't let go immediately. She held her there a second longer, lips brushing Ishaani's ear as she murmured, "Good girl. See how easily you fold for me?"
Ishaani tapped again, cheeks burning, body trembling with a mix of laughter, arousal, and that deep, reverent submission she only ever gave to Tara.
The age gap had never felt more obvious — Tara's calm, experienced control against Ishaani's impulsive, eager energy.
The boxer who could take down men twice her size folded so beautifully for the woman who knew exactly how to unravel her.
Tara finally released her, rolling them so Ishaani was on her back again, Tara hovering above her with a satisfied, slightly wicked smile. Ishaani was panting, flushed, eyes glassy with want and adoration.
"You're evil," Ishaani breathed, laughing weakly.
Tara leaned down and kissed her — slow, deep, claiming. "And you love it."
Ishaani's hands slid up Tara's waist, pulling her closer, the play fighting dissolving into something so much more in love. Tara suddenly pulled back, making Ishaani frown up at her.
"I forgot to tell your sisters you were with me."
"Eh, don't worry. Unless you're tired of me."
"You wish, Bambi"