“Fuck!” curses Rithvik, dragging my focus to him. “I’m all wet.”
I hurriedly grab some tissue papers, about to press them against the top of his pants, when I’m interrupted by Nathan’s commanding voice.
“Arya.”
I look at him.
“I’m sure he can clean himself up.”
My hand automatically drops before I realize what I’m doing. Does he really believe he has the right to boss me around? Suppressing my glare because I can sense Mr. and Mrs. Roshan taking in the exchange with rapt eyes, I retort, “It’s called being polite, Mr. Singhania.”
“It’s okay, Arya,” cuts in Rithvik, gently taking the tissue from my hands. “I can do it. Thanks.”
“Probably good to cut the party short and go home,” drawls Nathan, relaxing back in his chair like he didn’t orchestrate all of this. “Wouldn’t want to give people the impression you pissed your pants.”
Rithvik’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Excuse me.”
As he stands, his chair skidding across the floor, I take out my phone and fire off a text.
ME: Stop behaving like a bully.
His response comes a minute later.
Mr. GENTLEMAN: Pick a lane, angel. Either I behave like your boss or the man you keep eye fucking.
ME: How about you read the situation and act accordingly?
MR. GENTLEMAN: You complain when I do that.
MR. GENTLEMAN: A perfect example is what happened right now.
MR. GENTLEMAN: I told you to focus on your job. Yet you keep making me resort to extreme measures.
ME: So you did spill your drink on him!
MR. GENTLEMAN: Be a good girl and don’t disobey me next time.
ME: You really have some nerve, Nathan.
ME: Go boss around Samaira and call her a good girl. I’m sure she’d love it.
MR. GENTLEMAN: Jealous, little minx?
The back and forth has my blood pumping faster and hotter. A heady dose of pure ecstasy coursing in my veins.
This is what was missing last time.
Do I crave it when he pushes my buttons? Secretly enjoy flirting with him in the name of arguing?
MR. GENTLEMAN: Can’t deny being jealous?
The taunt jerks me out of my stupor. With furious fingers, I type.
ME: Go back to treating me like you did the other day at the café.
I pause, not hitting the send button and stare at the message. He was cold and detached. His curt replies were like shards of glass digging into my skin.
Do I want that version of him?
