Nilay parked his car in his designated spot and cut the engine. He turned to her, her face tilted to glean the signage over his store. She looked heavenly. In a white oversized shirt over black leggings, hair still damp from her shower, eyes big, mouth round. When she had gotten into his car early this morning after he had waited a sum total of twenty minutes under her apartment, he had wanted nothing more than to haul her to himself and kiss her. But then she had read him the riot act on being before time and making her the bad guy. Then she had pulled out two newspaper-wrapped sandwiches from her bag, which, she had confessed, she had made on sourdough, with no butter, with homemade chutney and a ‘ton’ of salad. He hadn’t been able to dredge up any other topic then except her awful cooking skills, all the while stuffing his face full of her version of Bombay sandwich.
“You have investors or the brand is all yours?” She asked.
“Unable to believe this grand brand can be run by me and me alone, Doctor?”
She got out, slicing him a look. Nilay smirked, balling the newspapers and getting out too, looking for a dustbin. He ought to know where a dustbin was in his own premises.
“NiP, hi, good morning!” Kedar came running out of the back of the store, his iPad and white mug in hand. His eyes whirled to Ritu and widened, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and smile big. “Your green tea in white mug, the inside is also white.”
Nilay accepted the mug, thrusting the newspaper wrappers in his hand — “Where is the dustbin in this building?”
“Right there,” he pointed to the corner behind him. Nilay huffed.
“Give me, I’ll throw it,” Ritu began to reach for the wrappers but he was faster. Nilay grabbed them — “I’ll throw it.” Idiot Kedar tugged them back — “No, no, I’ll throw it, NiP.”
“Leave it,” Nilay glared.
“I’ll do it…” He tugged hard and the papers tore — one tatter in each of their hands. Nilay gaped at the trash in his hand and then at Kedar, looking petrified, rightly so. But it was the tinkling laughter beside him that made his glare die down. He glanced at Ritu. Her head was thrown back, her hand covering her mouth as she gave him a look.Thatlook that she had given him before leaving his car. Theyou are obnoxious but you make me laughlook.
Nilay gave up. He handed the remaining tatter to Kedar — “Throw it, please, thank you.”
Kedar looked at him like he had grown horns.
“What would you like to drink?” He offered her his cup. “Decaf green tea ok?”
She accepted his cup and took a sip, making Kedar look at her like she was an alien.
“You can go Kedar, we will find our way upstairs,” Nilay nodded. And he retreated. Nilay saw him step away quietly. Then the moment he hit the store verandah and thought he was out of sight, Nilay saw him break into a run.
“You still asking me what I think about you running this grand brand alone?” Ritu smirked, her mouth closed, eyes raised over his cup.
“It’s a daily thing.” He pressed a hand to her lower back. “Come.”
“What are you showing me? Your cave?”
“I am a couturier. You realise that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then do not call this a cave,” he pointed at the exquisite signage in gold and black, the heritage wall hangings leading them down the entrance and into the store that looked like a museum with pieces displayed like they were collectibles. They were. Some of them.
“You are so easy to offend.”
The elevator opened for them and he led her in, noticing how she was not even a little impressed by all the finery around her. She didn’t look twice at the mannequins laden with some of his best work. She hadn’t even stopped to run her hand through the velvet saree collection that no woman in the history of this store had been able to resist. Nilay crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back on the elevator wall, looking at her face. It turned red.
“Why are you red, Doctor?”
“Am I?” She was nonchalant. “Heat maybe.”
“In 18 degrees Mumbai? It’s fallen even further after last night’s rain.”
She kept staring ahead, reddening at a certain memory. He held back his smirk, digging into his biceps to keep himself from reaching for her waist.This time, we will earn it, Doctor.
The door pinged open and he led her down the workshop, deserted at this early hour.
“Do you come to work this early every day?”
“Ever since you gave me your list of lifestyle changes, yes.” He IDed his handprint and opened the door to his office. “Before that, I would walk in any time between 9 and 12. Now it’s 8.”
