Déjà Vu
Ananya
The garden of the Taj Palace hotel had been transformed into a runway. India’s fashion elite and a few prominent Bollywood stars sat just a few feet away, clapping as models glided past in Suraina ma’am’s breathtaking designs.
For the first time in my life, I was in the audience at a fashion show instead of running around as an intern. I should be grateful even to be here. Instead, I was miserable. This entire event was a glittering, colourful reminder of what could have been. I was supposed to be a part of the team that made this happen. I was supposed to be Suraina Mukherjee’s assistant.
‘Didn’t like it?’ Rishi asked as we left the garden.
‘I loved it.’ I forced a smile on my face. ‘Let’s see the exhibition.’
The hotel’s ballroom was hosting House of Advani’s Legacy Exhibition. The moment we entered, I was blown away.
Light spilt across the marble floors, collecting in warm pools. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead. Soft music drifted in the background. Servers wove through the crowd with trays of champagne.
The ballroom was divided into sections, each devoted to a day of Diwali.
‘Isha is going to besojealous,’ Jasmine murmured when we entered the first section.
The room glowed in saffron and rose. Marigold garlands hung from carved teak panels. An earthy sandalwood scent floated in the air. In the centre stood three showpieces: a deep crimson Banarasi sari with delicate lotus motifs in pure gold threads, a midnight-blue sherwani with antique silver and tiny diamonds along the collar, and an ivory silk lehenga with goldzardozi, the needlework shimmering like sunlight on water.
We’d seen them at the fashion show. But up close, they were extraordinary.
‘Everyonewill be jealous,’ Rishi murmured, looking around.
Employees from only certain departments were invited. And unfortunately, among all our friends, only the three of us had made the cut. The rest would have to hear all about it later.
‘I heard you were the one who came up with this exhibition idea,’ Jasmine said. ‘Is that true?’
‘Yes.’ It was almost surreal. And to think it was going to be on display in all the major Indian cities for amonth.
‘Forget being an assistant, you should be in marketing,’ she said. ‘This is a hell of an idea.’
No, I should be in design,and I’d be much better at it.
I forced a smile. ‘Maybe.’
We were on our way to the next section when my gaze snagged on Jai. Clean-shaven, his sharp jaw looked like it could cut through glass. His hair wasstyled to perfection. His charcoalbandhgalasuit clung to his broad shoulders – sinful perfection.
He was talking to Romit Kulkarni, one of the best fashion designers in India’s Indo-western segment.
Our eyes met. His attention was locked. I’d been careful not to look for him tonight, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was headed my way, and the crowd parted for him.
He stopped in front of us with a dazzling smile. ‘Good evening.’ His eyes swept over me. Hunger flared in them.
‘Good evening, Jai sir,’ Jasmine sighed, her eyes practically heart-shaped.
Rishi elbowed her and offered his own greeting.
‘Thank you for attending the event. I hope you’re enjoying it,’ Jai said graciously. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow Ananya for some time.’
‘Of course,’ I murmured.
He led me out of the ballroom through an emergency exit door. In an instant, the noise vanished, leaving only the two of us in the hush of an empty stairwell.
The next thing I knew, my back hit the wall, and Jai’s mouth crashed onto mine, hot and demanding. My pulse quickened as my nerve endings hissed and crackled.
His hand curled around the nape of my neck, angling me exactly as he wanted. He teased the seams of my lips until I parted for him, his tongue slipping in, slow and claiming.
