“As a client,” he adds quickly, straightening up and shifting into a mock serious tone. “I don’t want further damages, Ms. Vyas.”
I stare at him.
He’s mimicking himself. And it’s so ridiculous I almost laugh. “And,” he adds more casually, “I would love to spend time with my friend.”
I shake my head. “Hey,” he gasps dramatically. “You do know friends meet up on weekends, right?”
I sigh. There is no winning with him. “Fine,” I say finally. “We’ll go together.”
His face lights up. “Great!”
“What time?” he asks.
“9 AM,” I reply. “But it might take the whole day. The warehouse is at the outskirts.”
“That’s even better,” he says immediately. “Forced proximity with Ms. Ishika Vyas because there’s no other way to spend time with you.”
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out. “Aryan, please leave,” I say, my tone final.
“You can’t throw me out,” he shrugs. “I own this place.”
I stand up and mirror his stance. “Last chance, Golden boy,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “Leave.”
He raises both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”
He turns and starts walking toward the door. My eyes follow him for a second longer than necessary. Broad shoulders. Confident stride.
I immediately look away. What is wrong with me? “By the way, Ishika,” he says suddenly, turning back.
I look up, annoyed. “You look pretty.”
I blink. What? He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. I slump back into my chair. “Are you going to annoy me every day?”
He smirks. “You finally caught up, Sunshine,” he says. “That’s the plan.” He winks again and then he’s gone. I stare at the door for a long second before dropping my head back against the chair. What have I signed myself up for.
CHAPTER 24
ARYAN
The car feels quieter than usual. Not because there’s no sound—the engine hums softly, the road stretches ahead, the faint rhythm of music still lingers in the background—but because she is quiet. And not her usual irritated, thinking, judging silence. This is different. Still. Almost…distant.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye.
She’s looking out the window, chin slightly tilted, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the moving traffic like she’s trying to stay there instead of here. And for a second, I consider leaving it alone.
But I don’t do quiet. And I definitely don’t do awkward. So I turn the music down. “So,” I begin casually, tapping the steering wheel once, “what’s your favorite color?”
She turns her head slowly and blinks at me like I just asked her the meaning of life.
“Excuse me?” she asks.
I shrug, keeping my eyes on the road. “It’s going to be a long ride. Thought we could get to know each other a bit.”
She stares at me for a second longer, then shakes her head. “Oh no. We are not doing that.”
I gasp, actually offended. “Come on, Ishika. We are friends.”
“I definitely regret that,” she mutters under her breath.
