𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

sorry y'all but I added essential info (internal monologue) into the end of last chapter, start from this line if u wanna go back:
"Hiring me has put his delicately jagged heart in a war zone...."

without further adieu, enjoy this chapter...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

"Don't lie to me," Chanthira interrupts. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't realise that you both were missing within a second of your disappearance?"

The kids are quiet as they look down in shame.

"Look at me," she snaps at them. They listen. "You have consistently and deliberately disobeyed me and you guys never seem to know when to stop. However, now that we're here– we aren't leaving."

Their faces light up.

"Don't get too happy. You're both in deep trouble and grounded. Whilst we go out and have fun you will stay at home, with the doors locked and you will not for any reason go anywhere around this hotel. This includes the cinema, the indoor pool, the outdoor pool, the bar..."

Then she names a whole list of things I had no idea this hotel had.

"But Ch–"

"What was that?" Chanthira says, with an unearthly tone.

"Nothing," Emily grumbles.

"Do you know what I thought when I went upstairs to your rooms to find pillows in your beds?" Chanthira crouches to be eye level with her kids.

"Scared?" Khami says, softly.

"I was terrified. I thought– I thought someone had kidnapped my girls," vulnerability peeks out of Chanthira's voice. "And no-one hurts my girls."

"No-one," Khami repeats.

"And what happens if they do?"

"Mommy kicks their as– butts," Khami smiles. She almost said ass.

"Then I kick yours," Chanthira flicks her nose.

She stands up, brushing anything off her bare legs. Emily doesn't look at her, her mind is distant from her mother.

"Emily," Chanthira says.

"Yes, yes I know– I'm the worst sister for going with Khami, the worst sister blah blah blah," Emily says brushing her mother off.

Chanthira looks pained to hear her say that. "I am not saying that."

Emily looks around, everywhere but her mother, tapping her foot wildly on the ground. "Are we done here? I'd like to go inside," her lip trembles.

She folds her arms tightly across her chest, then walks inside the hotel.

When we walk in, I feel so out of place in my sweaty ass rags. Okay, I'm not in rags but I'm in a sweatshirt and leggings. The walls of the circular reception room are pale marble, the bright colour reflecting light off around the room from every angle. LED bulbs are uniform and placed intricately in circles. In the centre is a seating area consisting of circular leather sofas.

Emily sets herself onto the sofa, next Pasha. He always keeps to himself.

The receptionist is a beautiful Arabian with piercing green eyes. Her hair is neatly drawn back and held tightly by a claw clip, two strands are left around the frame of her face, softening her look. She leans against the wall, on her phone scrolling through something, sucking on a lollipop when she hears us. Her head shoots up, and she accidentally clumsily drops her lollipop.