“I give you plenty of constructive criticism,” I say.
“That’s not a gift.”
“It improves your personality.”
“My personality is already excellent.”
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Khanna.”
He laughs out loud, shaking his head. I wonder sometimes how does he finds this funny when I deliberately say to make him feel bad so he leaves me alone. I point at him warningly. “Don’t make this weird.”
“I’m not,” he says innocently.
“You are.”
“I’m appreciating a gift.”
“You’re milking it.” He grins at that, clearly pleased with himself.
For a moment neither of us says anything. Then he uncaps the pen again and signs a random sheet of paper just to test it.
“This is dangerously smooth,” he murmurs. “You know what this means, right?” he says, looking up again.
I sigh. “I’m going to regret asking, but what?”
“Every contract I sign from now on will technically be your fault.”
I stare at him. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“How?”
“If I accidentally sign something terrible, I can blame the pen.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You bought it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re welcome,” I mutter.
He laughs again, softer this time, and sets the pen down carefully like it’s something fragile. “Thank you, Ishika,” he says.
Not joking. Not dramatic. Just…sincere. The sincerity throws me off more than any of his teasing ever could.
I shrug awkwardly and grab my bag again. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late,” he replies. I pause at the door and glance back at him. He’s still looking at the pen. Turning it slowly in his fingers like it matters more than it should.
And for some reason that makes my chest feel strangely warm. Which is ridiculous. It’s just a pen. And he already gave me a whole freaking car.
CHAPTER 23
ISHIKA
This is an interior designer’s biggest nightmare.
I am not exaggerating. I am not being dramatic. This—this right here—is the kind of thing that makes you question your career choices, your sanity, and every decision that led you to this exact moment.
