“Don’t you, yaar? ” * * * Tina sat at her makeup table that evening and took another look at her closet. It was filled with her clothes, shoes and accessories. Untouched, as if waiting for her. Just like the small crystal figurine of a dancer she loved so much. It still sat on her bedside table, catching the light. It was like that throughout the house. Tina had expected Dev would have thrown out her stuff or at least boxed it. She’d thought he would get rid of any reminder of her. She looked down and stared at the bottles and pots on the makeup table. She reached for her new tube of lotion and dabbed a little on her wrist before smoothing it on her skin. Why had he kept her possessions in the house? Was it to prevent the servants from talking or was it simply that he didn’t notice them? Or was it something much worse? All this time she thought Dev had been indifferent. Had she gotten it all wrong? Tina jumped when Dev’s hand snaked around her as he reached for the tube of lotion. “Dev!” She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Dev stood behind her with a stern expression as he read the label on the tube. Her gaze traveled from his hair, damp from a shower, to the dark emotions swirling in his eyes. His golden skin captured her attention. She watched as a few water droplets meandered down his bare chest. Her gaze continued to travel down. Tina shifted in her seat as she noticed the way his blue drawstring pants hung low on his lean hips. “Please give that back,” she said quietly as her cheeks became mottled with red. She couldn’t remember what the label explained. She hoped it didn’t give too much away. “What is this for?” Tina turned around and stood up. She took the lotion from his hands and set it on her table, desperately controlling the urge to hide it. “Does it matter?” Dev placed his hands on his lean hips. “It might.” His words set her on full alert and she gave him a cautious look from underneath her lashes. Was he fishing for information or did he know more than she realized? “The less you know about a woman’s beauty routine, the better.” He snatched her hand and turned it over before she could protest. Pushing the sleeve of her white shalwar kameez, he exposed the slender welts that crisscrossed her wrist. Tina curled her fingers into her palm but she couldn’t hide the marks from Dev. She never wanted him to see the scars. They were a symbol, a reminder, of what she had been capable of when she was at her weakest. “I noticed the marks last night when you were sleeping.” He skimmed his fingertips along the ridges. “I never saw these because you hid them under your bangles.” His gentle touch made her shiver. She stared at his large fingers against her small wrists. Compared to his strength, she seemed fragile. Her marred skin only emphasized his perfection. She tried to pull away but Dev wouldn’t let her go. “I don’t...cut anymore,” she promised. “When did you start?” he asked as he continued to caress her wrist. “And why did you do it in the first place?” “When we were in Los Angeles,” she admitted. She wasn’t ready to explain why. She didn’t quite understand it herself. All she knew was that she had wanted to release the pain that had been howling inside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Because she had been ashamed. Horrified. And yet she hadn’t been able to stop. She had felt compelled to hurt herself and watch the blood collect on her skin. “It looks bad now but I was recommended a cream that will make the scars fade.” She felt the sudden, angry tension in his touch. “I’m not worried about the scars,” he said in a low hiss. “My concern is that you felt the need to hide this from me.” Tina yanked from his grasp. “I don’t cut anymore,” she repeated and she heard the defensiveness in her voice. “They are old scars and they didn’t get infected.” “The next time you feel like doing