Dusk to Dawn (The Legacy Duet - 1)

𝕯𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖒 𝕱𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖒

𝕿he lights flashed on the silver Lexus, and I sighed in relief.

With long strides, he rushed ahead to pull the door open, ushering me to the passenger's side, grabbing the keys. The brief contact of his fingers against my palm led to a small current.

Shaking his head, his tall frame backed out of the car, away from me. He even reached for the door to seat me in before he stopped himself. The seesaw inside me jolted. Sharp inquisitive eyes flashed across my face, the phantom scent of pine wafting over me.

"Are you sure about this?"

My heartbeat thumped heavily in my ears and I offered a silent nod back. He mirrored my nod wordlessly, then stepped back and slammed the door.

Within moments settled in the driver's seat, Asfand started the engine, smoothly rounded the car, then pulled a quick U turn in silence. Dread sank like a heavy stone into my gut. I didn't make eye contact, but I could feel him regarding me like he thought I might snap.

I think I already had.

Mentally, I ran through the conversations I would need to have, hands white-knuckling the leather upholstery. Partly because I was focusing all my energy on not asking Asfand to turn around so I could verbally beat the ever loving shit out of Altamash, and partly because Asfand had the hot forearm thing going, driving the car- a stick shift - so those muscles and tendons flexed as he drove, eyes fixed on the road. He made driving the Lexus along the dark, curving roads seem like a sport or an art form. One corded arm draped over the wheel, and his right hand sat loose atop the gearshift, his knee bobbing in a restless rhythm that never disrupted his control over the gas pedal.

When he caught me studying him, his brow lifted in tandem with his lips.

"Fuck my life," I muttered, watching the city streets bleed into the highway that led out to Islamabad.

I sensed Asfand's glance.

"We still good?"

"Yeah."

His mouth lifted the faintest bit at the corner as he looked away, eyes on the approaching exit. "I didn't see you eat at the event, hungry?" he asked. The event.

Oh good God. Flashes of my flirtation with him started to bombard my brain. Shit. His reminder made my chest warm and I looked away before a blush could fully bloom over me.

"Starving."

He nodded, and within minutes we pulled into a small roadside cafe. A sigh punctuated rustling, so I glanced up. Asfand cleared his throat, shucked off his jacket, and threw it in the back. "Just trying to get comfortable."

Then he proceeded to roll up his shirtsleeves and I bit my lip to stop a surprised gasp from slipping out. The strangely shaped tattoo on his forearm was such an odd part of him that it threw me off. It travelled from his forearm, all the way beneath his shirt.

What kind of financial analyst looked like that beneath his clothes?

"What do you want?" he peered into the makeshift cafe, his eyes and nose scrunched up. "On second thought, this might not be best place-"

"Oh it's perfect," the grit on the floor, the open air kitchen and sloppily washed dishes made me smile. Altamash and Daada Jaan would definitely not approve of this. I giggled like a mad woman. This was a completely inconsequential rebellion, but a satisfying one nonetheless. "I want something fattening and lowbrow. Something Altamash would never approve of."

"That bad huh?" the way he laughed, all soft and deep, made me feel like I was sinking into a warm bath. I stared at him, tousled dark hair and lashes, the long line of his nose, the shadowy stubble that I could not stop thinking about. Not for the first time I wondered what it is about him that affected me so. His fingers mesmerized me. Long, competent, and deft. I imagined them turning the pages of books in the late-night hours-fingers smudged with ink, just like mine used to be. Somehow this man had triggered that restlessness I'd always kept just beneath the surface. Whereas before I'd merely been alive, he made me want to live.