‘Sorry,’ I murmured, lifting my head.
His face was inches away from mine.
The space between us turned electric. The intensity with which he looked at me made my heart stutter.
His gaze dipped to my lips and lingered. A nervous flutter took hold in my stomach. The moment stretched and slowed, strumming with tension, waiting for one of us to snap.
Then came the pilot’s announcement; the aircraft doors were open and ready for disembarkation.
Jai pulled away, shattering the moment. ‘We’ve landed. Let’s go,’ he said and rose.
My heart drummed against my ribcage as I followed him out.
A car was waiting for us at the tarmac, ready to take us to our villa. Within minutes, we were on the road.
Beside me, Jai was on his phone, completely normal.
My mind was still reeling. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the thought circling my mind.What the hell just happened?
We arrived at the villa past lunchtime. It was the farmhouse of a businessman, and honestly, it exceeded my expectations (which, to be fair, weren’t very high), with spacious rooms, antique furnishings and a large lawn with a pool and a children’s play area.
By then, I’d regained control of my senses. If he wanted to pretend as if that almost-kiss didn’t happen, fine, I could do the same.
In fact, it was better this way. I didn’t evenwantto kiss him. Sure, he was attractive. And charming. And … perfect. But that didn’t mean Ilikedhim. He was my boss, for God’s sake. It would be wildly inappropriate.
I stole a glance at him.
Jai was lounging on the sofa, his legs up on the table in front of him. His suit jacket lay on the armrest, his tie loosened. This would be the most relaxed I’d seen him, if not for the laptop on his lap.
The caretaker had whipped up a delicious plate of chana ghugni for us. I was halfway through my lunch, but his plate remained untouched.
‘Jai, your food is getting cold,’ I said.
‘Just a moment,’ he replied, distracted. I didn’t believe him.
‘My mom says that ignoring food after it has been served is disrespectful to Anna Devata. Brings bad luck.’
He glanced at me. I kept a straight face. He sighed, put his laptop aside and finally grabbed his spoon.
‘Does she really say that?’ he asked after a few bites.
‘Nope.’ I smiled.
He shook his head, letting out a low chuckle.
‘Are you nervous?’ I asked. ‘For the pitch?’
This deal clearly meant a lot to Jai. His unhealthy attachment to his laptop for the past few weeks proved it. But he had been in this industry for eight years and had plenty of experience. He had negotiated a deal with Harrods, for God’s sake. This should be easy, right?
He paused, then confessed, ‘A little.’
‘I thought after Harrods, everything else would feel easy.’
‘Dadaji started House of Advani with a thousand rupees, a sewing machine and a dream,’ he said. ‘He wanted to show India’s disappearing craftsmanship to the world and give artisans like himself the recognition they deserve for their work. This line is my way of honouring him. So, this meeting is very important.’
Amarnath Mohanlal Advani passed away peacefully in his sleep a year ago. It was all over the news. Jai clearly still mourned him.
‘That’s … very sweet.’
