Codename lotus, p.22
Codename Lotus, page 22
A corrosive sense of shame began to climb, a slow-moving burn that made me feel empty even as it made my skin flush with heat. But what I hated most was that he was going to see me cry.
The glass pressed into my skin as my fingers locked.
“Get out of my house. Now.”
“But Naomi, I—”
“GET OUT!”
I didn’t register the sound of glass shattering until Saanya’s hands were on me, and water ran down my wrists—my cheeks.
“Naomi.”
Her touch brought me out of it, my numbing anger dissipating when I noticed Saanya’s horrified expression as she cradled my hands in hers.
The wet on my cheeks was tears, and the wet on my hands was blood.
I was…bleeding.
At some point after Ethan had gone, I’d crushed the glass in my hand and thrown it at the door.
SAANYA
I felt helpless, listening from the sidelines. I had heard everything while fighting the urge to barge in, decorum be damned. The only thing that held me back was knowing that Naomi could defend herself, probably better than I could.
He strode past me in the hall, fuming. But the sight of Naomi bleeding changed everything.
I led her to the chaise at the foot of the bed and knelt, assessing the cut. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
Naomi’s lips parted but she nodded instead. “I’m fine. He didn’t.”
“Lea!” I called.
She appeared as if she’d been hovering. Her eyes widened.
“Please be careful,” I warned. The floor glittered with shattered glass and water running down the door.
Horrified, Lea crouched among the shards and picked something up. Naomi’s ring.
Naomi’s dark eyes flitted away when Lea looked up.
“There’s a first-aid kit in my handbag—in my closet. Bring it, please,” I said.
In Lea’s absence, a heavy silence settled, punctuated only by Naomi’s uneven breaths. She was shaking, and I somehow knew it wasn’t fear—it was anger.
“It isn’t deep,” I murmured, cleaning her palm.
My thumb stroked the outside of hers without thinking. Her skin was warm, and mine was ice.
When I looked up, her eyes were red and furious, wet in spite of her.
“Naomi, I’m so very sorry,” I whispered. “This is my fault.”
“Don’t,” she said.
Another tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t flinch away from me seeing it.
“But your relationship—your wedding.”
She let out a rough sigh. “My relationship has been on the rocks for months—long before Sid called. Leaving him was never the hard part. Leaving my company was.”
I kept stroking her fingers. It felt…easy. So natural, as if we’d been touching each other for years.
“I take it you heard everything he said.”
I sighed.
“I am sorry, Saanya,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I’m ashamed of myself.”
I had never seen her cry. Her face remained even, but her lip quivered.
“Oh, Naomi.”
I reached for her cheeks and thumbed two hot tears away. My own eyes stung.
“Among many, there’s one thing I learned from my marriage. I got to see firsthand that anger and resentment bring out the worst in people. I took nothing of what Ethan said personally because he doesn’t know me, and it’s obvious he doesn’t know Sidharth. If anything, I pity him. You are not responsible for what he said or his judgments.”
“You mean racism,” she said flatly.
“Well, yes,” I said. “Nothing new. And I’m not being complacent—what he said was appalling. But everything in life falls by its own weight.”
I had no doubt Ethan would soon regret this.
Her gaze dropped.
“Either way,” Naomi said, “that is not what I meant. I mean, I am…” she sighed. “Ashamed of him, yes. But what I meant was…” Her voice shook. “I…”
It took me seconds to grasp the meaning behind her words. The pain in her eyes, in her voice. I understood; I’d known it for months, living beside her. This crying, this shame, was about her parents. Never shame of them, but of what she’d done to herself to keep the grief at bay.
God, I wanted to hold her. To comfort her properly this time.
“Naomi, I—”
Lea reappeared with the first-aid kit, and Naomi straightened up—dashed her tears away in a heartbeat. For someone as proud as Naomi, this had to be unbearable.
“Here you go, Miss Saanya.” Lea handed me the first-aid kit.
“Thank you, Lea. Could you give us a moment?”
“Of course.” She disappeared.
I wet a gauze pad and dabbed Naomi’s cut.
She flinched once and stilled. “Are you a doctor now?” she quipped, and I smiled.
“You don’t get to be a primary school teacher without learning a thing or two about bandages and bravery,” I said, wrapping her hand. “No hospital visit tonight.”
I risked a glance up, treading carefully. The vulnerability of the moment might have passed, but Naomi had been completely open just seconds ago, seeking reassurance.
“You were just a girl, you know?” I said.
Her breath hitched and her body stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please.” Her tone was sharp, but her eyes betrayed her. “Just not now. I’m exhausted,” she added, softer.
“Of course.”
“If I were to make a reckless choice, I’d drink myself insensible and forget tonight ever happened,” she murmured.
Tonight.
There’d been more to tonight than regret.
Her words threatened to erase the one moment that had branded itself into me. That fleeting, electric second when she had almost kissed me.
I understood her exhaustion, her need to forget—and it hurt. But tonight wasn’t about me. This was for the best.
“Well, you’re all patched up now.” I sat up.
She inspected her hand. “Thank you.”
I gave her a nod. “Rest,” I said softly. “Please.”
Yes. It was for the best.
In the morning, the kitchen smelled of parathas and scrambled eggs. I was cooking to anchor myself.
Naomi read the paper, probably grateful for the excuse not to look at me.
With Ethan gone, I’d even brewed a pot of masala chai, its fragrant steam curling in front of us. Not that things had suddenly gone back to normal. We both knew there was a massive elephant in the room.
“Do you think Allison heard me when I called for her?” I ventured, flipping the parathas, then I sat again.
“She probably did.” Naomi barely looked up from her newspaper, her ring finger still naked. “And she’s silently cursing at whoever is keeping her on the phone. The kitchen smells heavenly,” she said.
I was thankful she was still reading. I made sure to keep an eye on the food still cooking. “Naomi, about last night...”
She paused without looking up—her brow knitting as she continued reading. “Saanya, now isn’t really the best time.”
“I know, I…know you’ve got a lot going on. But we can’t keep pretending. We almost kissed. That means something, doesn’t it?”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “We were both emotional,” she said. “It was a mistake.”
It would have gutted me, but her eyes told me she was bluffing. In fact, she was struggling.
“I—”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt real.”
She set the paper down and faced me fully. “Saanya, I think it’s best if we don’t dwell on it,” she said, barely above a whisper.
She was shutting down on me, her prickles close to springing out. I wanted so badly to reach over, but instead I stared at her hands.
“Are you scared?”
She drew a breath. “It’s not about fear, Saanya. Who are we kidding? You are my best friend’s sister, and I’m not a—”
The unfinished line tore a small crack in me. But I’d prepared for it.
“It’s for the best,” she finally said.
“I know you are not attracted to women,” I said. “I’m not expecting anything. I just want to understand what happened. I’m not imagining this, am I?”
Her eyes softened, and she looked at me with a mix of conflict, guilt, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Her lips parted as if to speak, but before she could say anything, the door opened.
“Ah! I can’t believe that little witch!” Allison swept in, phone in hand, looking frazzled. “Naomi, we have a problem.”
“What problem?” Naomi’s voice iced.
I went to flip the parathas.
Allison scanned the table and sat down. “Wow, this looks and smells amazing. You made this from scratch?” she asked, looking down at her plate. “Thank you.”
I gave her a smile and sat a plate in front of Naomi. Our eyes met. The gleam in Naomi’s gaze nullified any need for a thank you. Our conversation would indeed have to wait.
Naomi regarded Allison expectantly. “So, what happened?”
“Ishani Mehta,” Allison said, already stealing a bite. “The gallery’s trying to pull her from the show last minute. I can’t get the organizer to pick up.”
After a tidy bite, Naomi set her knife and fork down. “What? Why?”
“Her assistant doesn’t believe I work for you.”
“Call her on video. I’ll give her a piece of my mind.”
“She’s screening my calls.”
“Who is Ishani Mehta?” I asked. “Oh—that artist you mentioned?”
“Yes,” Allison said. “Naomi’s anonymous protégé. She’s an up-and-coming painter. Naomi got her into Gala d’Arte. It’s a big deal.”
“You have to go, then,” I said.
Naomi looked up sharply. “What?”
I smiled and sipped on my chai. “I’ll tag along.”
Her frown deepened. “What?”
Allison cocked a smug eyebrow, dangling her fork. “Not a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea,” Naomi said.
“Why? I’ll be with you the entire time.”
Naomi didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. “I don’t like it. It’s too risky. What if someone recognizes you?”
I laughed. “Again with the celebrity jargon. You’re joking, right? I’m not Billie Eilish.”
Naomi’s forehead creased. “Who?”
“There’s nowhere I feel safer than with you,” I said, and gave her a small wink. “You’re very thorough.”
Her mouth twitched slightly.
Allison’s brow rose. “So, should I call the pilot?”
We waited expectantly for Naomi’s reply. After a second—
“Fine,” Naomi said at last.
“Brilliant!” I said, grinning. “I haven’t been to Florence in years.”
Naomi scowled. “This isn’t a leisure trip.”
“Oh, but no trip to Florence ever isn’t. As long as I can stop by Gelateria Lucia, I would count this journey as fulfilled.”
Naomi chuckled. “Well, aren’t you a cheap date.”
That had certainly slipped out.
Still smiling, I bit my lip and looked down.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. Allison nearly choked on her paratha.
“…Oh my God,” Allison muttered.
Naomi cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I should go prepare, then.” She rose. “Allison, get to it. Make all necessary arrangements.”
Allison opened her mouth to stuff another bite and caught Naomi’s death glare.
“Now.”
She set the fork back down. “Right. Of course, Naomi. On it.”
“Y-yeah. I’ll go call Dr. Keller,” I said.
This trip meant more than I let on. At least to me it did. Not only was I ready to leave the same coordinates I had been confined to for months, but going to Florence meant a chance to have some time alone with Naomi. Not that we couldn’t have that same commodity here, but Naomi and Florence? Ugh. How perfect.
I rang Dr. Keller from the garden during my mid-morning walk. I had anticipated reluctance after my possible preeclampsia scare. But her “no” rang like an iron bowl.
“I’m afraid it’s not advisable for you to fly at this stage,” Dr. Keller’s voice had been gentle, but the message clear.
Crystal.
I found Naomi in her office, pen moving over a stack of documents. She looked up.
My shoulders slumped.
Naomi’s pen paused. Her shoulders pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“Dr. Keller…she said I can’t fly to Italy with you,” I said, watching the subtle fall of Naomi’s face—so slight I might have missed it before.
“Then we cancel,” Naomi said instantly. “You’re not staying here alone.”
“What?” I sat across from her. “No. Naomi, you can’t just not go.”
“Yes, I can. Watch me.” She continued writing.
“Naomi.” I reached across the desk and set my hand over hers.
She looked at the touch.
Then she looked at me.
“You can’t fail that young artist. If you don’t go, she’ll be snubbed. This is bigger than us.”
She inhaled, lifting her chin.
“It is the right thing,” I said softly. “And we both know it. You must go. She needs you there.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” she said. “I am not leaving you behind. And that’s—”
“Don’t say final, because it isn’t.” I’d yielded to her edicts before—easily, but not this time.
I looped my little finger around hers, my thumb brushing the side of her knuckle—just enough pressure to keep her eyes on me.
“I don’t accept it. Not with something this important on the line. Naomi, having her work in that gallery will break barriers—for her, and for the women who come after. You know what that means. To us. Back home, chances like this are still rare enough for girls—and rarer still for women than for men.”
Her gaze lingered on our joined hands before she slipped free and stood.
I missed her warmth immediately.
“I know,” she said at last, voice soft but firm. “But leaving you here, under these circumstances—it doesn’t sit right.” She slid her hands into her pockets and looked out the window.
I followed, stopping just behind her.
The fabric of her blouse was suddenly so vivid before me. Navy blue. She was wearing a slim gold necklace I’d convinced her to try weeks ago—I knew it would look beautiful against her skin.
My hands tingled.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her from behind and press my face to the nape of her neck. Nuzzle her soft, shiny dark hair. It was indeed longer now. Only days ago, she had mentioned needing a haircut, but I thought she looked perfect like this, still short but grown out in places. Strands that months ago brushed her cheekbone now fell so gracefully down her jawline.
My fingers hovered a whisper above the small of her back.
She turned, and I jerked my hand away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I stepped back.
“I’ll be okay,” I said. “Lea’s here. The kids. You’ve made this place a fortress. We won’t leave the house—promise.”
“Saanya…” Naomi sighed.
“I’m in good hands.”
She gave me a reluctant look, and I knew I’d won.
I had no doubt she would have stayed otherwise, which made me feel oddly split—warm and guilty in the same breath. If she didn’t go, that girl would be pulled from the exhibition. And if anyone could stop it, it was Naomi.
Pride swelled in my chest—at her power, her care, her impossible beauty. Her eyes had gone that clear, lake-green.
“Fine,” she said. “But my bodyguards stay with you.”
“Fine,” I said. “How about one stays with me and one goes with you? You can’t walk around unprotected.”
She sighed. “We stay in constant contact. Any change, and I’m on the next flight home.”
…
Home.
That word hit me straight in the middle of my heart like an arrow. I was so gone. It was so over for me. And the worst part? She’d called our moment a mistake.
That doesn’t make her gay. Maybe curious?
I shook my head.
How could curious ever hold a candle to in love?
I almost asked if we could talk when she got back. I didn’t. We had time.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I exhaled. Smiled. “I am beyond fine. Thank you for doing this. You are changing someone’s life.”
“It’s only an art show.”
“We both know it’s much more than that.”
Of course we had plenty of time.
22
GALA D’ARTE
NAOMI
The bite of Florence Peretola’s air was the first thing that registered. This city usually tugged at a special place in my heart, but not today. I took the last step from the jet, nodded through the greetings, and let the porter fall in behind with the luggage.
“Benvenuta, signora,” someone called over the fading whine of the engines.
Allison’s red hair whipped in the wind as she tapped her phone. “Hotel first. We’ll check in. Then—”
“No. We’re meeting Renata Bellini now. But before that, I’m making a call.”
“Do you need privacy? I can arrange a VIP lounge.”
“I’ll call from the car.”
Allison’s brows lifted. “…Understood. That’s us.” She pointed at a black Mercedes.
Ethan’s name still tasted sour on my tongue, but my mind kept circling Saanya and the realization that whatever this was, it wasn’t one-sided.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
I slid into the back seat and tapped her name. Outside, Allison was juggling English and terrible Italian with the driver.
The ring in my ear was a live wire. Ridiculous how much it thrilled me.
SAANYA
Naomi’s name flashed on my screen and my heart misfired. It had only been a few hours. I scrambled for the phone. “Hey—everything all right?”
