Mina pushed a lock of hair behind Shoban’s ear. It was a careless gesture and absurdly comforting. “I knew the man was a weasel.” She studied Shoban. “I hope it’s okay to call your father that.”

Shoban waved away her words. “Oh, please. Calling him a weasel is insulting weasels everywhere.”

Both women smiled.

“You can come live with us in California.”

“I don’t want to live in California. I want to go to Oxford and study there with Omar and then come home and get married and start a life here with him, in India.”

“Shree can talk to Bram. Maybe he’ll agree to an annulment.”

“An annulment?” Just the thought of that made Shoban feel human again. She took a deep breath. Silver waves broke on black rocks. In her heart Shoban knew it would not happen. “My father would make Omar pay too high a price.”

“We’ll come up with a solution,” this virtual stranger said, pressing closer to Shoban as she stared out at the ocean. Their arms touched, the smell of tobacco and jasmine hung around them. Half an hour ago, Shoban had felt completely and utterly alone in the world. Now, hope nudged at her. Maybe she would find a way.

“Shree always says that everything has a solution so long as you keep your head. Maybe let’s sleep on it. Tomorrow, without the exhaustion of a wedding, we’ll come up with something. Maybe tomorrow we’ll talk to Ma-saheb and Shree and—”

“No.” Shoban turned to Mina. “I can’t tell them. Not until I’ve thought about how that would impact Omar.”

Mina squeezed her shoulder. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t want to go back in there.”

“I don’t imagine that you do. But maybe just talk to Bram. Tell him the truth?”

Shoban laughed. “I did.” The bastard was excited by the prospect of breaking her into submission.

Mina tucked another lock of hair behind Shoban’s ear. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come to your room.” Her voice was suddenly steely. “At least for tonight, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ashna pushed a stray lock of hair off her face and Rico dug his hands into his pockets. The longing to touch her hair, to be the one to push that lock behind her ear, was a force inside him. All damn night he’d dreamed of touching her, of her hands on his chest. Of the scent of roses lingering in his car.

This closure thing had well and truly blown up in his face.

As he walked into the holding area outside the room where promo videos were being shot, her eyes found him and came alive, and clung, and said a million things he knew she didn’t know she was saying.

Blown. Up. In. His. Face.