Incense and Sensibility (The Rajes #3) - Sonali Dev Page 0,37

intimacy froze his insides, and not thinking about it was usually the best way for him to deal with it.

His early experience with intimacy had shredded his ability to trust. Julia Wickham, Trisha’s college roommate and best friend, had drugged him, and taped him having sex with her. She was underage, and his intern. Then she’d used it to blackmail him.

Yash would never forgive himself for putting his family through the amount of money and legal corralling it had taken to make Julia and her threats disappear. So, forgive him if intimacy did not come easily to him.

Yash started to pace, hating that the discomfort of the memories made it necessary to move. Naina had picked up pretty quickly that Yash wasn’t quite into it. She’d tried to help, she’d tried keeping it light, keeping it purely physical so his head didn’t get in the way. He trusted her enough that the physical release wasn’t bad. But the work involved in getting there was exhausting. For both of them, and when she’d given up, it had been the greatest relief.

Naina’s eyes softened. “We don’t have to try again. There’s a lot of couples who don’t have sex.” She smiled. “It’s like we’re already married.”

He stopped pacing and leaned on the desk next to her. “Wait, this is sounding more and more like a proposal.”

“Hell, no! What this is, honey, is opportunity. Do you know how many women can become financially independent as a result of this endowment? Quarter of a million, directly. That means, in terms of generational trickle-down, millions. This is what we always wanted. This is us changing the world. We’ve lied to our families for ten years so we could do this.”

Every time she said we his insides turned. Why did that word sound so jarring suddenly?

“What happens to your endowment if I don’t win?”

The look she threw him was a warning. “The two things aren’t related,” she snapped. “Mehta is interested in the foundation’s work. No strings. I’ve already made that clear. And at this point you not winning is a really negligible possibility.”

Except the idea of going out on a stage and speaking to a crowd still made his knees buckle. The one person who might have been able to help him, well, obviously she couldn’t.

Or, rather, he couldn’t let her.

There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer Nisha hurried in, coming to a stop when she saw Naina and him standing there shoulder to shoulder.

“Sorry. I had no idea I was interrupting.”

Naina waved her over. “Come on in. We’re done.”

The two women air-kissed. “He’s all yours.” With that Naina picked up her bag.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he said with so much gruffness that Nisha frowned. “Did you need something?” he added much more gently.

“Umm, yes, I wanted to, you know, check in on that thing we’re working on.” She scratched her head. “What was it again? Yes, your campaign.”

Naina backed away, hands raised, as though she wanted nothing to do with their sibling drama. It was why their arrangement worked. They got to focus on their own stuff without having their legs tangled up about each other’s stuff like real couples.

“I’ll see the two of you later. Yash, listen to the women in your life. They know what’s best for you.” Before leaving, she threw a smile at Nisha and Nisha returned it.

Yash couldn’t tell if it was a patient smile or a fond one. His sisters were always courteous to Naina but never close. Was that them or her? How had he never given a thought to any of this? How many things had he trampled past without giving a thought to?

“Do you want to run the speech by me?” she asked, studying him.

“Do you want to get to the reason why you’re really here?”

“Fine. How did things go with India?” She picked up his last remaining donut.

Terrible. Amazing. “Okay.” He took the donut from her and took a bite.

There it was again. His heartbeat. Feelings. Sensations. Memories that didn’t make him fold inward.

She took the donut back. “When are you seeing her again?”

Never, he wanted to say. Right this minute.

Instead, he said, “Let’s go over the speech.”

Chapter Eight

India threw open the doors of her closet. Unsurprisingly, it was lined from top to bottom with yoga wear. A few dresses hung from hangers. She riffled through them, checking to see if . . . okay, so she wasn’t checking for anything, just looking at them. Not every action