“Why do you look like there’s a moth trapped in your pants?”
“What do you want, Sasha?”
“Still getting those headaches?” she pressed, her face softened for a second. “Please tell me it’s not some stunningly beautiful woman wreaking havoc on your life again.”
“None of your business.” My jaw tensed.
“Good… the world can handle a super grumpy heir of the Oberoi Empire, but not a heartbroken one.”
“Is this some hidden fantasy of yours? Just making up annoyingly dramatic scenarios.”
“We’ve been pushing back millions of interviews, rescheduling endless meetups, and your adoring fans, who’d practically kiss your shoes just to keep their bottom lines safe, are getting restless.”
“Remind me again—how am I supposed to fire you?” I grumbled, glaring at the screen. “Can I sue you for the ‘mental trauma’ caused by your unwanted, torturous late-night blabber? Or maybe for spreading rumors that I have an ‘untreatable genital disease’?”
Sasha’s laugh echoed through the video call. “I can’t afford to have any girls around you. All the blood in your body seems to stop reaching your brain once you startfeelingthings.”
“Stop killing me and let me get some damn sleep.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Never,” I quipped, rubbing my temple as the headache grew worse.
“Don’t complain when people start knocking down your gates in Beaufort with cameras flashing,” she grinned, “You’re needed back, Mr. Manav Oberoi. Just get your act together and return.”
I snapped the laptop shut.
Finally, peace—until my phone started ringing again. If I toss this phone into the ocean, will anyone miss it?
“What… now?” I groaned, answering without even bothering to open my eyes.
“Hey Manav, it’s Roy… How are you, buddy?”
I sighed, finally sitting up and rubbing my temples. “Hey… man… How’ve you been?”
“All good, bro… listen, the prosthetic software needs some tweaks, and I have to be with the team for a few more days,” Roy’s voice crackled, the connection bad.
“Hello… Roy?” I tried, but the line broke up.
“Oh, and Manav…” His voice returned, clearer this time. “Kiara is at the house.”
I froze for a second.Kiara…?
“Could you take care of her until I'm back?”
I sighed, running a hand through myhair. “Sure… Don’t worry. Just focus on your work, and congratulations on the big launch, buddy.”
“Thanks, brother…” he said, his voice fading before the call disconnected abruptly. He was probably in some underground lab in an undisclosed location, designing breakthrough software for prosthetics while the world’s superpowers fought to get a piece of it. Knowing Roy, his “big launch” was probably revolutionary.
Roy and I go way back to our college days, during the few months he spent at our university for a training program. At first, he was just another acquaintance—someone you nod at in the hallway. But it didn’t take long for us to become friends. Later, Meeta and Kartik joined the mix, and the four of us created memories that still make me laugh.
Over the years, we’ve stayed in touch—sometimes for work, other times for no reason at all. Roy met Dad when our company collaborated with him.
Six months ago, when I told him I’d be in Beaufort for a business deal, Roy practically hijacked me from the airport. He set up the guest cottage as my penthouse and made it clear in no uncertain terms. “You are not leaving my property until your work is finished here.”
He’s never talked much about his family…and I’ve never pressed. Occasionally, though, he’s mentioned his sister, Kiara Randhawa—an international best-selling author. Beyond those brief mentions, I didn’t know much about her until now. Today, I found her wandering around the kitchen like a lost, hungry cow in search of some food.
There’s something different about her. It’s not just her beauty, though that’s undeniable. It’s the way she smiles, like she’s carrying secrets she doesn’t want the world to see. Those deep brown eyes, big and glassy, surrounded byimpossibly thick lashes, hold a mystery that pulls you in. There’s a vulnerability in those eyes, but at the same time, a quiet, unbreakable strength.
