Daksh snorted, a disbelieving harrumph. “Get dressed,” he said again. “It’s just dinner. It won’t kill you.”
It might, she thought. It was very likely she would choke on her food if she had to sit across this man and eat.
She shook her head. “Thank you for the invite but I’m going to order room service and stay in.”
She tried closing the door on the heels of her refusal, but his hand shot out, grabbing the doorjamb and stalling its movement.
“Fine,” he said, sounding both furious and put upon. “We’ll order room service and stay in.”
No, he wouldn’t! She stared at him, appalled. She didn’t want this giant, irritating hunk of ridiculous hotness in a room with her. A room with a bed. Her gaze darted to the bed, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. It wouldn’t be good for her blood pressure or her center of calm.
“Give me ten minutes,” she said brusquely. “I’ll get dressed.”
His dark, intense gaze bored into hers. “Ten minutes,” he said gruffly. “Or I start banging on your door again.”
Vedika sighed, the pressure on her shoulders intensifying. But when she spoke, all she said was, “I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER 8
DAKSH
Ten minutes later,almost to the dot as the needle on his watch ticked over, she opened the door and appeared. Her hair was brushed loose, her face completely make-up free and she was wearing a kurta and leggings. Again. What was with the dress code?
Daksh glanced down at his shorts and t-shirt ensemble, feeling like he was falling weirdly short. But he didn’t have a sherwani packed away in his haversack. To be fair, he didn’t have a sherwani anywhere. Dear God, his mother was going to make him wear one for Ashish and the Mouse’s wedding, he thought, groaning internally.
“You don’t need to look constipated,” a prim voice said from beside him.
Daksh glanced down to where the voice emanated from. She had her arms wrapped around her waist like an emotional support girdle and looked unnaturally tense and anxious for what was a simple night out.
“Shall we hit one of the nightclubs?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head and trying to work through his kinked muscles.
“I don’t go to nightclubs.”
Daksh raised his eyes to the heavens. Of course, she didn’t.
“Where would you like to go?”
He watched her gnaw on her lip like she was deciding the fate of the universe. And then after she was done figuring out if the dragons would save the day or the robots with the lightsabers would, she announced, “Let’s go to the shack on the hotel’s private beach.”
Right. Of course. She would go with the boring choice. Let the universe burn.
“Lead the way,” he muttered, resigned to drowning his boredom in alcohol.
They walked through the hotel’s opulent lobby in silence, Vedika’s shoulders hunched, her head tucked in like a turtle retreating into its shell. She was a strange, little thing. He followed her through the longish corridor that led out to the swimming pools and then to the few steps that took them to the beach.
The shack was lit up, music streaming out of it, and a few tables occupied with mostly foreigners. Daksh relaxed as he took in the sight. This was better than being stuck in a quiet restaurant where he’d have to actually talk to the woman walking silently beside him.
They found a table in the open air outside the shack’s thatched roof and settled down. A server ambled over to take their order.
“What would you like to drink?” Daksh asked, extending the menu to her.
“I don’t drink.”
The menu froze mid-air as he stared at her. “How about a Coke or something?”
“Empty calories,” she said dismissively. “I’ll just have a glass of water, please.”
Right.
