Pulling the pillow in her arms closer, she rested her cheek against the cool cotton and stared at the full-length mirror on the wall opposite her. “The path of what is expected of me,” she said evenly, as she stared at her reflection. Her expression was solemn. “Education and marriage, the only two things my parents want for me. To them, my dancing career is purely a novel distraction. It took everything I had to convince my parents that I wanted to seriously pursue ballet. I fear if I tell them I am doing anything else but ballet, they may just threaten to disown me altogether if I don’t give into their demands regarding their ideas for my future,” she said with a dry laugh. “Just to give you an example of how they are, instead of congratulating me on the positive reviews of my last performance I get calls from my mother asking me how I did on my last exam.”
“So, tell me what you want?”
Awkwardness crept through her veins giving her an antsy feeling all over. She still didn’t really know Roman. Telling him her aspirations felt personal as if she would be letting him past one barrier of defense.
With an attempt to dispel some of the quiet tension in the air she laughed. “Wow it’s quiet on your end, I take it you live alone.”
“Don’t change the subject,” he said seriously. “I want to know what you want, Rahina.”
Annoyed, she set up with a frown, letting her pillow fall off the side of the bed. “Says the man who hasn’t given one iota of himself to me.”
She could practically feel his dark smile. “Be careful what you wish for. You started this, now finish,” he commanded.
His voice sounded like the low purr of an engine, setting off every nerve ending in her body into a goose bump. Rahina could feel her nipples tighten and brought her knees up to hug to her breasts. Damn the effect he had on her, she was being pathetic and at the same time there was a wild devil may care streak that ran through her telling her to ignore all of her common sense regarding Roman. To ignore the fact that she was giving him an advancement in their unspoken game while he had her pinned with no foreseeable move in sight.
Rushing forward before she gave herself time to doubt, she spoke. “I want everything,” laughing softly, she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I know how that sounds but it’s true. I want everything I ever dreamed of for myself. I want the upcoming principal position my dance company will be deciding on soon. I want to stare the world in its face as it watches a dark-skin Bengali girl dance classical ballet, I want to someday choreograph and direct a show of my own, and I want all of that without my parents’ disappointment. I refuse to lose them as I try to make my dreams happen, so right now,” she sighed. “I make concessions.”
“What types of concessions?”
Getting up, she walked to the bathroom and grabbed a brush for her now dry hair. “Oh, I don’t know, the concession of studying for my masters in horticulture while dancing full-time and making a real name for myself in the dance world. And,” she stressed dramatically, “sitting through the occasional matchmaking meeting.”
“And how do those meetings go?” She couldn’t be sure if he was being serious or not.
“Terrible,” she confessed with a roll of her eyes at the thought of her last one with Dev, a family friend her mother was pushing for. “I may give in on a few things with my parents but who I marry will not be one.”
The chime to her doorbell went off.
“Oh, hold on,” she said before pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder and using both hands to quickly finish applying the mascara before running to the door.
“I take it that is Mario?” Roman inquired at the same time she opened the door.
“You’re not dressed?!” Mario complained, completely ignoring her silent signal that she was on the phone.
Ignoring him with a frown she rushed to her closet. “Yeah it’s him.” Hangers screeched across the rack as she searched for a dress.
“And Jason Davies, your current dance partner at the Boston Ballet Company, doesn’t mind your close relationship with your previous dance partner?”
Her hand froze on the top of a dress as she grinned. “I’m screaming on the inside that you know that. But no, he doesn’t mind, they get along quite well.”
Poking his head into her closet, Mario gave her a scorching look. “I’m going to start screaming at you, if you don’t hurry up.”
“Go way,” she whispered, pushing his head back out the door.
“I’m in the business of information, don’t be flattered,” Roman stated dryly.
“Fine,” she mumbled. “Well, I have to go. Are you going to miss me tomorrow?”
He didn’t give it a second thought. “Goodbye Rahina.”
Chapter 6
“I heard your Swan Lake performance was coming back, are you excited?” Mrs. Gorshal asked, sitting prim and stiff on the edge of the cushion, she gave Rahina a polite smile as her dark eagle eyes sized her up from head to toe.
Plastering on her own fake smile, Rahina readjusted the pleats to her sari, smoothing them down as she lowered herself to the plush cushioned couch in front of the woman. Like all of their family gatherings and events, it was held in the largest private room of her uncle’s restaurant, Dhaka. The large room was ornately decorated and often served as a wedding venue. Hardwood floors, hand carved lacquer tables, textured red and gold wallpaper, and deep embroidered couches, the room was the restaurant’s biggest moneymaker.
Making sure she didn’t slouch, Rahina folded her hands discreetly over her phone in her lap as she nodded to the older woman. “Yes, I am. I can’t wait to get back on stage.”
It was true, even if her smile wasn’t. It had only been a few weeks, but Rahina was already craving the exhilarating rush of dancing across the stage in front of hundreds of people.
“I would love to see it, maybe I will have Dev come with me,” Mrs. Gorshal offered with the faint lift of one of her dark penciled eyebrows.
Ah yes, Dev, the entire purpose of this monumental waste of her time. Looking over to the front corner of the room, Rahina spotted Dev standing and laughing amongst the men in her family and Dev’s father. A year older than her, Dev was very handsome and equally successful, two traits he was well aware of. His dark brown skin was buttery smooth, far smoother than hers she noticed sourly. Rahina wouldn’t be surprised if the vain man had weekly micro-derm appointments. Every strand of his black straight hair was perfectly in place and shined as if each strand was buffed and glossed to perfection. His hair was a direct affront to her unruly mass. Resisting the urge to self-consciously smooth at her wavy hair that hung over her shoulder, Rahina looked away just as Dev turned to catch her gaze. She wouldn’t give him the ego boost to know she was looking.
Turning back to his mother, Rahina resumed her wooden smile. “Of course, I’ll be happy for you to attend. I’ll make sure to leave your name at the box office for a complimentary ticket.” Not that she needed it, the woman was loaded.
Mrs. Gorshal gave a polite smile, but Rahina could see the spark of a thought pass through the woman’s thoughts. Straitening in her chair, the older woman leaned forward a fraction of an inch and opened her mouth to speak, her beaded gold filigree jewelry tinkling with the movement.
Noises of greetings from the front of the room interrupted and stole both Rahina's and Mrs. Gorshal’s attention. Relief poured through Rahina when she spotted her sister, Rubina — followed by their mother and Mrs. Gorshal’s mother-in-law, the presiding matriarch of the Gorshal family. Rubina walked across the room, acknowledging the men with a cool smile and an acute glance as she made it to Rahina’s side. Wearing a beautiful yellow and blue sari, Rubina shined like a bright summer day. The bright glow, however, ended full stop at Rubina’s cool breathtaking expression. When they were younger, her dad used to joke and say that Rubina had taken all of the seriousness and left Rahina all of the smiles. With full lips like herself, Rubina barely smiled, occasionally she graced only the deserving with a cool smirk but rarely ever
smiled. Taking after their mother, Rubina’s face was angular and narrow, her eyes were dark and seductively cold, giving her a look of commanding beauty.
Politely greeting Mrs. Gorshal, Rubina sat down next to Rahina as their mother, Deeya Chopra, and the elderly Mrs. Gorshal took their seats as well. As the older women talked, Rubina gave her sister a knowing smirk as she appraised Rahina’s clothing.
“Those colors look good on you,” Rubina picked up some of the draped fabric of Rahina’s sari and ran it between her fingers.
Rahina didn’t even try to stop her mischievous smile. It had been a fun little game between them for years now to wear opposite colors. Naturally, Rahina always chose bright colored saris. The bright pinks, yellows, and soft pastels complemented her personality. Today, however, Rahina chose a dark ash gray design overlaying a dark steel blue. On her sister the colors would’ve been powerfully complementary, the dark, regal colors on Rubina’s striking countenance would’ve been visually arresting and exactly what their mother would’ve liked. Naturally, they did the opposite.
“Why thank you!” Rahina said a bit too chipper, not hiding the amusement in her eyes. “I was just thinking the same about you.”
Ever one to be a master of her emotions, Rubina’s face stayed beautifully impassive while her eyes glittered back with laughter. Deeya Chopra, who sat at the other end of the couch, next to Rubina, leaned forward slightly and caught her middle daughter’s gaze— she was not amused. As a polite conversation began, Rahina resisted everything inside her to just slump against the couch arm she was pressed against. Bloated small talk filled with subtle bragging was exchanged back and forth across the lacquered coffee table that separated the two couches. Her mother, an expert in the lethal art of repartee and complementary exchange, dueled graciously with Dev’s mother. Both were saying without saying that Dev was a perfect candidate for marriage and one of the Chopra sisters would be ideal.
With her phone discreetly hidden against her thigh and the armrest, Rahina typed out a text to Roman.
(I sooo don’t want to be here.)
Rubina was answering a question about her women’s health practice when Rahina caught the familiar look of back straitening pride on her mother’s face. Rubina’s doctorate in Obstetrics was Deeya’s pride and joy. With her oldest daughter, there had been no complaining, no fights, and no continuous sources of shame at her daughter’s path in life, unlike her middle child. God, Rahina instantly wanted to go home. How easy would it be to just excuse herself to the bathroom and then run to her car? Rahina could go home, order a pizza, and hide under her bed when her mother inevitably came over to tear down her door and strangle her. It would be better than sitting around here, listening to the subtle hints as to why she was the crap daughter.
Just as masterful as their mother, Rubina expertly turned the conversation back to Dev asking his mother about Dev’s latest business he started. Looking down at her phone, Rahina sent another desperate text after the first un-replied text.
(If I have to listen to my mother and Mrs. Gorshal talk about how great Dev Gorshal is any longer, I’m going to start looking for rope.)
After a few minutes and continuous checking on her hand, the messages updated to “read” by the recipient, but no reply.
(Fine don’t answer! I’m haunting you first.)
Looking back up, Rahina wasn’t surprised to see a perceptive look from her sister.
“Please tell me you are not still chasing after Mr. creepy smile?” Rubina whispered low enough for only Rahina to hear while the older women continued to talk.
The elderly Mrs. Gorshal looked their way forcing them both to look attentive in the conversation momentarily. Rahina just gave her sister a smile they conveyed her unspoken shrug of defeat. Although she had tried with painstaking effort, Rahina could not make her sister understand her infatuation with Roman. The concept of pursuing a man was alien to her sister, a woman who had men trip over themselves to get her attention had no empathy for Rahina’s situation.
The sudden vibration at her thigh filled her with far too much elation than she was willing to admit to herself.
(I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of true love. You have my blessings.)
She knew he was a man that liked to joke and tease, especially at others expense but she couldn’t deny that it stung.
(Fine) She texted back.
Putting her phone on silent, she looked up and did her best to throw herself into the conversation around her.
“Ah, Dev come here,” Mrs. Gorshal called to her son as some of the men walked over.
Dev was wearing a traditional and very expensive looking silk Kurta, the long midnight blue top was embroidered at the neckline in strands of silver while his fitted pants were a soft cream color. He was without a doubt handsome, she admitted to herself bitterly. Coming to stand next to his mother, Dev unexpectedly met Rahina’s gaze, completely bypassing Rubina. Rahina smirked, and she could see the hint of intrigue and wariness pass through his shuttered expression. Poor boy, probably thought she was the safer bet. If she were a man and her and her sister were Rahina’s only two options, Rahina would probably choose her too. Rubina was the equivalent of a large billboard that read “death imminent” in front of a jagged misty mountain road, you’d better be pretty damn sure of yourself before taking on that challenge.
Ignoring him, Rahina looked over her shoulder towards her father and brothers and caught Riaz’s gaze. She grinned at him expectantly, to which he replied with an exaggerated sigh before signaling her over. Happily, she stood up and whispered a soft “excuse me” from the group while ignoring the no doubt caustic expression of her mother at her escape. With quick strides, she was across the room and latched to her dad’s arm within seconds.
“Rahina” her dad grumbled disapprovingly knowing full well what she was up to but didn’t do anything else. Her uncle gave her a knowing smirk while they continued talking about their favorite cricket teams. Rahina ignored her eldest brother, Amit. They couldn’t stand one another, they decided long ago to simply ignore one another.
The pink phone at the end of the couch lit up. Casually, Rubina reached for it and slid it to her lap and turned it over. The caller ID read Roman. Letting it ring, Rubina watched it stop with a smile. The notification log read four missed calls. Reading the last few lines of text, Rubina put the phone back down. Looking up, she watched her sister argue playfully with Riaz while Dev, who was now back with the men pretended to talk to her father and Amit. He was doing a poor job of it, not only could Rubina see clearly from across the room that Dev was biding his time for Rahina’s attention she knew her sister knew it too, which only made the dancer ignore the boy longer. Next to her on the couch, her mother was still in deep conversation with the other two women. Deciding this was her perfect chance, Rubina walked to the back of the room and held up her sister’s phone as if she were merely taking a selfie.
The phone silently rang again. Clicking the video button, she didn’t have to wait long for the man on the other end to appear. Nervous butterflies filled her stomach. He wasn’t at all what she was expecting. Narrow cold gray eyes contradicted the slow smile that split across his face as he stared back at her. Why in god’s name would Rahina want to be with a man like this?
“I’m going to assume your Rubina,” his deep voice matched his intimidating smile perfectly. “Where is Rahina?”
Using all of her disciplined composure, Rubina didn’t let her face show anything but a calm facade. Acting as if she were simply fixing a strand of hair in the camera, she held the phone closer.
“Why do you care?” She looked at him with her most practiced imperious face. “From your last text to her, you gave her your blessings.”
She could see continuous movement behind his head and judged that he was in a car. The terrifying man gave her a long considering look before widening his grin, bearing some of his white teeth. Gray fog seemed to roll through his gaze like a haunted warning, and she
knew instantly he would not repeat his question again without some sort of consequence.
Ignoring the cinching feeling around her heart, she looked up and almost gave her own evil smile. Pushing the button on the screen, she changed the phone’s camera to the back camera. She watched his face closely as his narrow gray eyes took in the details of the video.
Dev had made his move. Singling her out, Rubina and the dangerous man watched as Dev gestured for the door. A few moments of exchange passed, and they both watched Dev lead the tall dancer out of the room alone. Mischievous satisfaction wrapped around Rubina’s heart, dissipating the constricted feeling he had caused as she watched the glimmer of male possessiveness settle on to the man’s face. He wasn’t completely unaffected by her sister, she noted.
With the camera switched back, she was about to give him a smug retort when he cut her off. The satisfaction she felt evaporated at the somehow larger chaotic grin.
“Where are you?”
~*~
Following Dev into a much smaller private room, Rahina walked past him with a smirk noticing the way he glanced at her shoes. She was easily four inches taller than him.
Pulling out her chair at the empty table, he gave her a small laugh. “You wore the heels on purpose, didn’t you?”
She had known Dev for a few years now, and he was well aware of her rebellious nature.
Tilting her chin up, she gave him a smug smile. “You know I did.”
“Your height doesn’t intimidate me,” he commented, pulling out his own chair across from her.
Leaning her elbows against the table’s cool surface, Rahina rested her chin on her palm and gave him an honest look. “What are we doing here, Dev? We have known each other for years now and not once have you looked my way and now all of a sudden here we are,” she waved one hand in a gesture to their private room. “You’re just letting your mother pressure you,” she accused softly.
Pride flared in his eyes, and his shoulders stiffened. “You’re wrong,” he said. Inwardly, she noted that when he frowned that somehow made him even more handsome, like a pouty model walking down the runway. “I have looked your way, it’s you who haven’t looked my way.”
His Smile: A Mafia Romance Page 5
