“Oh, he doesn’t, does he? Then why does he want to marry a Hindu girl to bear him Muslim babies? Go ask Aijaz if he would ever let his own daughter marry into a Hindu family. I’ll give you the answer to that. He wouldn’t. His wife, Shakeela—that boy’s mother—was Hindu. Did you know that? She was born Sneha. If your Aijaz Uncle doesn’t believe in religion, why did he make the woman he married convert?”

Omar had never told her that. He never talked about his mother. She had died when he was just a boy, so the story of how or why she converted was hardly relevant.

“I would never let you forsake your religion and heritage.”

“I’m not going to.” Omar would never expect her to.

Her father pushed open the door and beckoned to the servant waiting outside. “Good. Then we’re on the same page. Now Ramesh will take you to your room.” He turned to Ramesh, who had been his shadow for as long as Shoban could remember. “Take Baby to her room. She is not to leave there until I let her out myself.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rico watched as Ashna left the room. Or, more accurately, she tore out of there the moment they announced that they were twenty minutes from shooting their first cooking segment. It was as though she were making a break for it after someone had locked her up for years. Granted, the set was a bit chaotic, but everyone other than Ashna seemed to enjoy it. This was just their second time on set, yet laughter rippled around them. Ashna swung wildly between being warm and fuzzy with the cast and crew (with obvious exceptions) and toppling headfirst into misery.

What had possessed him to start down this insane path? There was a reason you weren’t supposed to make decisions at emotionally overwrought events like bachelor parties. If that wasn’t a thing, it needed to be. Someone needed to warn sods everywhere to keep their heads when their friends were getting hitched.

How hadn’t Rico anticipated quite how miserable his presence would make her? Or had he? It’s not like he meant her any harm. All he needed was to move on. To convince his stubborn subconscious that there was nothing to hold on to. Meanwhile the darned thing was holding its poker face and giving Rico nothing.

When he followed Ashna into the lobby outside the staging area, he was at least eighty percent certain that it was to make sure she hadn’t passed out or something. He was being a good Samaritan, that’s all. Before he could catch up with her, DJ Caine, their host, stepped into the lobby. Rico had never heard of DJ Caine—not that he was up on the chef stardom business—but evidently Ashna had more than just heard of him.