His mobile rang and broke their moment. He slipped his hand inside his pocket and silenced it.
“You were saying?”
“I was saying that…”
The intercom by the lounger buzzed.
“That must be important.”
“That must be one of my many team members come with a new fire. I should rechristen my job profile as fire extinguisher…” he muttered, leaning down and picking up the receiver — “This better be a life and death situation.”
“NiP, Sanket sir is here.”
“Why?”
“He says you knew about it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Should I say you are busy?”
“Yes.”
“Give it here…” Sanket’s voice. “Nilay, where are you?”
He glanced at Ritu, looking resplendent, a goddess in that ghaghra with no jewellery or makeup. It would be a cold day in hell before he let anybody see her like this.
“Why are you in Mumbai?”
“Daddy and I landed last night. I texted you.”
“Must have missed.”
“Where are you?”
“Out of office.”
“You are talking on your intercom.”
“What do you want?”
“Come to your office and talk like adults. I am waiting.”
“Go to hell,” he shot back. But the call had ended.
“Is there a problem?”
“We have to go to my office outside.”
“I’ll change…”
“I don’t want to see you change.”
“Do you know how heavy this feels right now?”
“Do I look like I care?”
She grabbed her heavy dupatta, balled it and threw it at him. The dupatta that would be priced at 3.6 lakh+ a piece on opening day, and would appreciate in value as years passed — she threw at his face and ran. “Now you see how heavy?!”
