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Even if you do hate me, Ash… I beg you. Please.
Please come.
R.
32
MISSING
DIYA
Layne walked in just a few minutes after Asher left. I didn’t even have to look up to know she was smiling.
“I’m happy we’re taking him home with us,” she said, like Asher was some stray pet she’d grown attached to.
I shook my head. “He’s not a puppy, Layne.”
She just chuckled.
“I need to wake up early tomorrow,” I mumbled, rubbing at my temples.
Layne perched on the edge of the bed, absently swinging one leg. “Yeah, the fundraiser at Hollowhaven. Think Jonah will show?”
I yawned. “Doubt it. He doesn’t really get along with his brothers.” My voice was already heavy with sleep, my body ready to shut down. “Night, Layne.”
“Good night, Dee.”
“You’re whistling,” Layne said with a smirk, catching my eye in the mirror. “You look happy, and it makes me happy.”
She grabbed the comb from my hand and pushed me into the chair, running it through my hair with practiced ease. She used to do this for Trina and me when we were kids.
Once she was done braiding my hair, I grabbed a dark pink lipstick and applied it. The color complimented the deep purple of my Lehenga. It was simple with silver threads running down the flared skirt. I pulled on the matching dupatta over my shoulder.
“I think I’m ready for the party.” I twirled for her, and she gasped, eyes wide. It was not often I got to wear dresses like these, but I loved them.
“Asher is gonna lose his shit when he sees you,” she said, handing me the white coat. “Don’t forget the coat. I put your knife in there just in case.”
“Thank you.”
Nodding, I walked toward the asylum. There were already workers setting up tables and flowers, and a big van filled with wrapped boxes and clothes.
Taking in a deep breath, I walked in.
Camille’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Holy... You look gorgeous in that.”
Thanking her, I made my way inside. Nurses and orderlies were busy keeping the residents indoors while workers set up tables in the yard for the event.
The moment I stepped into my office, Asher grabbed my hand in his, his gaze sweeping over me appreciatively. “Fuck, Sharma. If you look like this, how am I going to keep my hands to myself?” He pulled me closer, his fingers lightly grazing my palm.
I winked, leaning in slightly. “Who says you have to?”
“Do you want to kill me, Little Poison?” he whispered, his fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me closer. He tugged at my braid, wrapping it around his fist with a lazy smirk. “You look like a fucking goddess, and I want to kneel before you and pray.”
I tilted my head with a smile. “Pray? To?”
His breath hitched as I pressed closer. “To you. Always you.”
“Goddesses often demand… sacrifices.”
