The limo slid through wrought iron gates and came to a stop in front of the entrance of the huge house designed like an ultra modern Italian villa.
‘I’m not getting out here. I’ve booked a room and I want to go to my hotel.’ She averted her gaze and stared straight ahead as Arfaaz held the door open.
For answer, he paused. An inhalation expanded his chest, drawing her unwilling gaze. He’d discarded the ridiculous narrow jacket and the white dress shirt drew taut against his pectorals, sending something threatening and alien coiling through her.
The next moment he’d swooped down and picked her up, taking advantage of her inattention.
His hands went under her as he gathered her in his arms as easily as he would a bird in his hand. She had to duck her head to escape the side of the car and then he was slamming the door shut with a foot kick.
‘How dare you!’ She flailed at him furiously, pent-up frustration escaping. ‘Let me go. Now!’
He was warm, too much so. She found her throat clogging for some unknown reason.
Before she could react anymore, he let her slide down, but she was struggling and squirming so much, she lost her balance and fell, smack against his body.
He stepped back as though she burned him and mortification swept over her skin at the implied rejection.
‘You can’t force me to do what you want!’ she bit out, breathless from effort.
‘I’ll get what I need to know out of you anyway I can.’
‘What do you want to know? Why am I here? Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s to lay down this ghost between us. This meaningless tie…’ She made a gesture to denote contempt and tipped up her chin at him. ‘I want a divorce, Arfaaz. And I want it as quickly as possible.’
‘Very well.’ The soft agreement dropped in the silence with thunderous force, like a rock thudding down from the mountain. ‘Don’t doubt it, Piya. You’ll get it.’