Detached

CHAPTER 63

*MEERA'S POINT OF VIEW*

I sighed as the door to my hotel room clicked closed. As soon as I was on my own, I missed him; I didn’t want to spend the night alone at all. I’d lied and reassured him that I wouldn’t dream tonight, but I knew that wouldn’t be true. I was probably in for a bad night tonight, but I knew that it was only eight hours and then I’d be able to see him again. That thought was comforting.

I sighed and headed to the bedroom, slipping out of the dress that my mother had commissioned specifically for this event. Smiling to myself, I slipped the shoes into the bottom of my travel bag so I could keep them; there was not a chance I was giving those back. When I had on my pyjamas, which consisted of a pair of boy shorts and the T-shirt that Riyansh wore yesterday, I climbed into the cold bed. It was so weird lying on my own, the bed felt too big somehow, I had too much leg room and no one was crushing me. I laughed quietly to myself and thought about my evening.

I’d had an incredible night tonight, and although things were going to change now that people would know who I was, I wouldn’t have missed this party for the world. Seeing Riyansh in that tuxedo had given me many new fantasies to think about. I pictured his face as I had walked down the stairs to meet him. The way he’d looked at me made my heart flutter erratically. I had never seen anything more heart-stoppingly gorgeous in my life than Riyansh Bhutt standing there with that familiar smile on his face. He’d certainly given all of those celebrities a run for their money tonight; he was undeniably the hottest guy in the room.

I sighed contentedly and pulled Riyansh’s T-shirt up to cover my nose so I could breathe him in while I fell asleep, hopefully that would be enough to stop the dreams.

Pressing tighter against the wall, I silently pray he won’t see me. I am going to pay for disobeying, I know this, but still I stand there, motionless, instead of running back to the yard and pretending that I hadn’t moved from where he’d told me to wait.

As I peek around the corner of the wall and into the lounge, I see Smith standing with his back to me. At his feet, someone is on their knees. “Please, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” the guy begs, his voice breaking through fear.

“Not good enough, Jay. I lost two million in coke because you couldn’t keep your fucking dick in your pants long enough to make the fucking exchange!” Smith growls, his voice hard and angry. He moves to the side, and I see the guy on the floor. I recognise his face but know nothing about him; Smith always keeps his business away from me. A gun resides in Smith’s hands, his favoured silver pistol with the ivory handle. It is his preferred gun, he tells me this often. Jay’s eyes flick to me for a split second, and I freeze. Smith, seeing Jay’s attention diverted, turns and looks at me. Anger crosses his face before his usual loving expression masks it.

“What are you doing here, Baby girl?” he asks, waving his hand for me to go to him.

I gulp. “I’m sorry, Smith. I just needed the bathroom,” I explain apologetically, walking over and taking the hand that he is offering.

“It’s okay. Take a seat there, I’m almost done,” he instructs, nodding towards the couch.

I gulp and obediently sit. Jay’s shoulders loosen as some of the tension leaves him. Clearly he thinks he is safe now that I am here, possibly thinking that Carter won’t kill him in front of me. Obviously, he doesn’t know Smith very well.

“I’m sorry, boss, it won’t happen again,” Jay apologises.

Smith nods in response, bringing the pistol up and aiming for the middle of Jay’s face. “I know,” he states as he pulls the trigger.