The door creaked open. Rajveer stepped inside, the weight of the evening pressing down on his shoulders. The violence of the afternoon clung to his clothes, the scent of blood and dust still faint in his nostrils. But the moment he saw her, all of that fell away. Veda was sitting on the sofa, draped in the dark red net saree. The fabric was a whisper of color, sheer enough to reveal the silhouette of her body beneath—the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the secret shadow between her thighs. She wore nothing underneath, just as he had commanded. But Rajveer did not see her body. For the first time, his eyes went straight to her face. To her eyes. Those beautiful, expressive eyes that sparkled like morning stars every time they found his. Tonight, they held a flicker of confusion, a ripple of concern.

Her brow furrowed.