Meera paused while hanging the rest of the dresses and said, ‘Maybe on the surface. But his eyes… they don’t match his smile.’
She wanted to dismiss it, but the thought lodged itself deep into her mind. The thought of him being in pain pricked her heart like countless needles, but so did the memory of when she’d found out she was falling for the man who broke her trust.
‘Or maybe he’s just good at pretending,’ she murmured to herself.
‘Maybe,’ Meera echoed, but she didn’t sound convinced.
But Siya knew just how excellent he was at pretending and she had no intention of forgetting that betrayal simply because his arms felt like home. Her instinct screamed at her to rebuild the walls. If she didn’t stop herself, she might begin to believe there is something real between them worth holding on to.
The corner of her mouth lifted in a sharper smile as she made up her mind. ‘I know exactly what to do.’
Meera tilted her head, studying her closer. ‘Should I be worried, girl?’
‘Only if you like peace and quiet,’ Siya replied, and rose from her seat.
Meera laughed and shook her head. ‘That ship sailed the day Raghav introduced us to those idiots. Now I know better than to expect peace. Get ready. I’ll pick out some other dress for you.’
‘What’s the hurry?’
‘I left Abhay downstairs with a clipboard he does not technically own, overseeing every little detail. I think he scared the caterer into rearranging the fruit platters. Let’s try to show up on time for his sanity,’ Meera chuckled.
She gave Siya’s shoulder a light squeeze and walked out of the room. Once alone, the dress pulled Siya’s attention back to it, and the feminine urge to wear it and glide down the stairs overwhelmed her. But she held on to her decision.
If she chose to wear this blue someday, it would be on her own terms.
Chapter 12
Abhay stood near the windows, leaning against it with his arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on the staircase. He had to fight every instinct in his body screaming at him to go upstairs and check on Siya. The only weapon he had against the overwhelming need was that Meera was upstairs with her.
Even now, his hands ached with the memory of how her body had trembled in his arms last night. She’d held onto him with the desperation of a drowning person. It had scared him, and he’d never wanted to protect anything more in his life.
His gaze flickered to the server who’d just clapped her hands as a countdown reminder until the brunch began. Uniformed servers lined up flutes along the marble bar, the cabinet behind gleaming with assorted and vintage drinks.
The room was decorated in pink roses and earthy tones of curtains over the sharp-angled floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The chandelier above refracted the late sunlight as if it contained raindrops full of rainbows. Glass-topped centre tables with legs shaped like antlers were scattered across the massive room.
For the tenth time today, Abhay wondered whether this place would ever feel like home to Siya. When he’d first bought the penthouse, he’d told himself it was what a man of his stature should own. But a part of him had known even then that it was a place built for prestige, not peace. That was why he kept ending up at Raghav and Meera’s home.
This apartment had every luxury a man could possibly need and Abhay would give it up in a second because it never smelled of her or echoed with her laughter.
Abhay didn’t notice Luv until his hand landed on his shoulder with a soft thud. He strolled in with a grin. ‘You look to be about three steps away from being a wedding planner or a spy. All you need is an earpiece and you’d totally look like someone planning a covert mission.’
‘Nah, I’ll tell you what he needs. Oversized binders full of colourful tabs and stickers, with a special focus on the meditation section,’ Swayam added, appearing from behind Luv.
Abhay’s lips tugged up into a smile as he said, ‘I’d ask if you two came here to help or heckle, but I already know the answer.’
Luv dropped onto a curved couch, stretched his arms and gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘Helping sounds like a lot of work. I’m here for vintage scotch. Swayam is here because the dessert catering is by Louvre.’
‘Bloody freeloaders,’ Abhay taunted, shaking his head.
‘Hey!’ Swayam interjected, hooking his sunglasses into his open collar. ‘Listen, only Meera gets to call us that since she has been feeding us for a year. You don’t earn the right to taunt us just because of one brunch.’
Abhay took in their casual appearance. Luv was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and ripped jeans. Keeping in line with him, Swayam wore loose tan pants and a black shirt. He mocked. ‘Both of you do realise that this is an elite social event with media present and not an afternoon on a golf course, right?’
Luv reached forward and grabbed an untouched pastry from the silver tray. ‘We’re here to celebrate with our friends,not to be interviewed for a magazine column. Besides, we’ll be hanging out at the bar, anyway.’
Just then, Abhay heard the elevator doors open with a soft chime, and his father walked in. Clad in a navy three-piece suit which was pressed to perfection, the silver tie tucked under his vest, Mihit Agrawal pulled the attention of every person in the room, even in his sixties.
He nodded once at the servers and shook hands with the manager as he scanned the room with his sharp, detail-oriented eyes, then crossed the room toward Abhay. He greeted Luv and Swayam, then placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiled. ‘Everything looks great, beta. Your team has done a splendid job at such short notice.’
