“Aunty, I’ve been seeing Divyajyot Sisodia driving around in a Lamborghini,” I said, with a little laugh. “When did that happen? Did he strike oil on his land or something?”
Shalini Aunty clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled softly.
“That’s exactly what I asked Shaurya, but he just rolled his eyes and said I’m being a snob. That’s the trouble with these finance bros. They don’t have any imagination. Every time I see one of these people who barely had money to pay their club memberships, suddenly showing up to Tambola night indiamonds, and flaunting their vomit-coloured Birkins at polo matches, I really wish I could have their accounts audited.”
“Who are these people? Now, I’m really curious,” I said, with a laugh.
Meher was right. Her mother was a fount of information.
She named at least six people I had met today. I made a mental note of their names, and as soon as she got distracted by an old friend, I found an empty seat and noted the names down in a document on my phone. Meher slid into the seat next to mine, her warm, familiar scent washing over me.
“Found anything interesting?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Your motheristhe mother lode of gossip. Thank you, Meher,” I said. “Badi meherbani.”
That was a phrase I’d often used to annoy her. Now, it just made her look sad, when I’d actually intended the opposite.
On an impulse, I took her hand.
“Would you like to meet my niece, Navya?” I asked, wondering if I was crossing a line here.
Meher finally stopped looking sad and smiled at me properly for the first time in eight years.
“I’d love that! How old is she?”
“She’s three, and she’s recently lost her father. You know Nilanjana. She’s not exactly the maternal type. I’m looking for a way to connect with Navya since I am, for all intents and purposes, her mother and father rolled into one. I’m all she’s got. And I’m not sure that’s good enough.”
Meher thought for a bit and then turned to me with a nervous smile.
“Why don’t you bring Navya to Matta for the weekend? I bet she’d love to meet my fur-babies.”
CHAPTER 14
MEHER
As soon as I said that, I wondered if I had overstepped. It was one thing to meet his niece on his turf, and completely different to invite them over for the weekend.
“I think she’d love that,” he replied immediately, and I heaved a sigh of relief.
It was getting very difficult to remember that this was just for show. When Samrat pulled me into his arms earlier, I should have pulled away, but I couldn’t resist the warmth of his embrace.
I didn’t know why I had reacted with such fear to Sanjay, but it was as if seeing him suddenly had transported me back to that morning when I woke up with his arms around me. I had re-lived that fright and confusion all over again. And when Samrat offered me the solace of a hug, I couldn’t say no because once upon a time, I used to think of being in his arms as the safest space on earth. And even though my brain still hated him, my traitorous body still craved his touch.
Even now, I had to hold myself upright in my chair, lest I melt into his side in a puddle of need at the slightest touch of his arm against mine. I bolted out of the chair and ran my hands through my hair in agitation.
“If we’re done for the day, I think I’d like to head home. I’ll have my assistant call yours to set up the weekend plans,” I babbled.
“Or…I could call you,” he suggested gently.
Oh God! I managed to nod once as I bit back a scream of pure panic. This fake dating shit was getting far too real, and I needed out. But I had already invited his niece to Matta, and I couldn’t rescind the invite now.
Without another word, I forced myself to walk out of the VIP enclosure slowly.
I realised I needed a strong buffer zone between the two of us, so I invited the whole gang for the weekend as well. The rest of the week was one manic race to get our best rooms ready for the impromptu house party.
They arrived together in one large convoy, and even though I hugged all my friends and their babies, I had eyes only for the man who was helping a little girl jump out of a black armoured Thar.
The past two times, Samrat had been dressed in formals, but today, in faded blue jeans, a white tee that clung lovingly to his lean body, and a black leather jacket, he made me go weak in the knees and wet in the panties. Damn him, I thought viciously. Why couldn’t he have been a three-eyed troll? Then I could have fantasised about clubbing him over the head, instead of wanting to run my fingers through his thick, black hair, and nibbling on his hard, muscular chest.
