Chapter 7
3:33 AM
She sat at the corner booth at Cocoa by Belgique, an European style Cafe-Restaurant for lunch at the Pacific Mall at Tagore Garden, waiting. She had been toying with her cafe mocha, and if there had been admiring gazes sent her way, Khushi had ignored them all. Or maybe, she just didn’t notice them. After having hidden her light under a bushel for so long, she had decided to embrace her femininity and the backlash hadn’t caught up with her yet - Had Khushi been more savvy to her attraction, she would have made good use of the effect she had on the males of the species; her analytical businessperson’s brain would allow nothing less but since she didn’t, she simply sat down and toyed with her coffee. Unlike her usual semi-formals, Khushi had chosen to wear a Reflection Top from Ann Taylor in tearose pink, an emerald Madison skirt tailored to fall a few inches over her smooth knees. She had cinched the top to her waist with a bejewelled skinny patent leather belt, something she would never have done before. It had emphasized her curves and Khushi knew that despite what Arnav thought (and he had thought plenty - “What had come over you Khushi Kumari Gupta?”), she felt good. An emerald Phillipa Exotic Embossed Leather Slingback Pointy Pumps and a small emerald Gala leather purse finished her looks. Where the old Khushi would have put her hair up in a professional looking Chignon, this Khushi left it flowing in loose waves, held back from her face with two tiny gold combs. The Cabochon Bangle flashed as she checked for time, where was he?
Arnav had a slight fever that night; the result of overwork and shock, or so the doctor told her. Overwork she can attest to; Khushi knew that he had put in a good 11 hours of work, even on the day of the party before he had come to Oro to greet the guests. That the man was overworked was of no doubt but how did you slow someone like him down? Still... she wondered about the other part. Why shock? The accident? Khushi couldn’t swallow that whopper. Yes, he was ill, she had felt it, seen it but somehow, a man like Arnav Singh Raizada couldn’t be running a temperature because of the car crash. She wouldn’t say that he had one before but, she knew him. She knew him. So where did the shock really come from? Was it the change in her? She crossed her legs deep in thought, not noticing how the men at the next table had their eyes glued to the gleaming length of them. The emeralds and rose gold of her outfit was framed wonderfully by the warm red bricks and the earth tones of the Cocoa by Belgique, but Khushi didn’t notice. She thought back - remembering.
Khushi was on cloud 9. The Best Restaurateur of the Year award! She had seen Arnav’s eyes, she had seen the smile. What else could she ask for herself? What else could she ask for Naivedyam? Arnav had thrown a party for her, she knew. In honour of her, for her love of the vintage, he had set the theme at Oro (Incidentally, her favourite Bar at the Radisson Blu) to 1940s, film noir! Khushi loved that era. The style, the innate elegance and the bad girls that had emerged at at time and she had known just what to wear! A 1941 beaded 'Aux Chevaux' cocktail dress by Vionnet et Cie for Wanamakers, It was, as all good dresses were at that time, French-made. A silk organza evening gown in a gorgeous shade of orange, draped to resemble Greek goddesses’ toga wrap dresses, it was adorned with crystals and seed pearls and there was a jaunty little purse to go with it. Khushi was just about to buy a fabulous pair of shoes, just right for the dress at Nicholas Kirkwood stilettos in red when she overheard some acquaintances taking. They too, she presumed where there to shop for the party. “You going to Oro tonight?” a thick accented voice rasped; she sounded Marathi. “It would do you good to catch Arnav Singh Raizada’s eyes Raima,” she scolded. “You never know when he takes off and marries that ward of his!” Khushi was about to laugh when the reply struck her mute. “Please Amma!” the younger voice chirped, “Have you seen Khushi?” she asked disdainfully. “She dresses like an old lady, with no sex appeal or charisma. What man would ever take her seriously as a conquest? Although,” she mused, “I guess I can see where she’s coming from. The woman trying so hard to be a man in a man’s world,” the voice had broken off giggling. Khushi had turned away, stilettos forgotten. Did everybody think that? She thought helplessly, eyes filling. She probably should have reacted less to this, but recent events had made her vulnerable and this had caught her in the raw.
She had walked out and kept walking until a quaint little cafe had come into view, and Khushi had sat down. To cool off, to think. She had just ordered a watermelon mint cooler when Adita Rao had walked in. She looked glam, she looked chic and she had walked towards Khushi with the widest, friendliest smile on her face. There had been small talk that Khushi had loathed and she had found out that Ms. Rao had been invited to grace Khushi’s party with her perfect, glamorous self as Arnav Singh Raizada’s date du jour. Khushi had smiled, and had craved blood.
She had walked and walked until Mango had come into view. She had walked right in, and when she walked out, she had shopped to kill, coming out with the Zuhair Murad number that had caused men all around to swallow their tongues. Khushi had known right then that although she would always love vintage and wear them too - It was time to emerge from the past into the present.
Khushi sipped her cooling Mocha, irritated that he had made her wait so long when a warm, masculine hand covered her shoulder, “Hey there beautiful!” the cheerful voice boomed, “Waiting for me?”
She looked up, and raised one sardonic eyebrow before making a show of looking down at her wrist. He chuckled- that easy rumbling laugh of his- and sat down opposite her. “Oh, Come on. I am not that late!” He raised a finger and motioned the waitress to come over, as he settled in comfortably, leaning forward on his elbows on the table. She smiled and shook her head. You could never stay angry with him for a long time- she had discovered this at their first meeting itself.
“Hey there Beautiful.” A husky voice said from behind her, and she turned around, a smile plastered onto her face. Her brows rose as the man in front of her bent forward and took her hand, bending to brush his lips against her knuckles. “I see you decided to break out of the charming elegance for once, and go for the kill Ms. Gupta.” he smiled. If it was possible, her eyebrows went even higher at that comment. A little impressed, and a bit more miffed, she eyed him coldly, “However, I don’t seem to remember meeting you, Mr...?”
He had smiled at that. A warm, genuine smile- followed by a low rumbling chuckle. “Singhania. NK Singhania. Although I would like to think I’m not that forgettable, am I?” She had smiled haughtily and turned away from him- not really in the mood to meet sensible people who actually admired her original taste right now.
She had met him an hour and a dozen dances later. He had been leaning against the bar, watching her with that infuriating smile on his face, as she had made her way to the stool- taking care not to trip and fall over. “I would ask you for a dance, but I think you’ve had enough dancing for tonight, Ms. Gupta.” he had said, cheerfully- and she had turned to him- exasperated. “Would you care to ask someone else for a dance, then?” she had asked him pointedly, and to her astonishment, he had laughed loudly. A full-bellied laugh. Cheerful and Sunny.
“No. Thank you for the suggestion though. Would you care for a drink Ms. Gupta?” She had rolled her eyes and jerked her head in an implied ‘sure, why not?’ he had ordered a Manhattan for her and a Martini for himself. He had watched with interest as she had ordered Mint Juleps for herself again, before drinking it along her Manhattan - downing it in three gulps, as he sipped on his drink leisurely.
“So, Ms Gupta!” he had started again- still looking at her with that oddly sympathetic expression which infuriated her to no end. “Best Restaurateur of the Year! An Honor isn’t it?” Her eyes had narrowed suspiciously but she had decided to play along. So, she had smiled, a small genuine one this time. “And then ASR throws you this fabulous Party!” He said, waving a casual hand around, his eyes still fixed on her- and her smile had instantly hardened. “Yes. It is a good party, right?” she had said, a little too tightly, still smiling. His face had softened then, and he had chuckled- shaking his head.
“Yes. It is.” he had said. “But you don’t really care for it do you, Khushi?” he had asked her- and her eyes had snapped up to meet his. “Of course, I care for it!” she had told him, indignantly. “He’s thrown it in my honor! I have to be here, don’t I?” she had realized too late the wrong use of words, as he had chuckled again.
“You don’t have to do anything, Khushi.” he had told her, leaning forward, conspiratorially, and she had leaned towards him instinctively- her eyes curious. “It is your day. You should do what you feel like doing. Now tell me Khushi, Do you want to be here?”
She had felt her indignation and irritation for this man melt away at that. Shaking her head, and smiling sadly, she had leaned over some more- whispering into his ear. “No. I don’t.”
And then he’d held her hand. tugging her away from the bar, “Then what are you waiting for My Girl? Let’s have some fun outside of this stuffy party- Khushi Gupta style!”
And that had been the start of a friendship- an easy camaraderie- between NK Singhania and Khushi Kumari Gupta. Something, which was only hers- which she had not shared with Arnav- and for once, Khushi liked that feeling.
“So what will you have M’lady?” he asked her- and she rolled her eyes again. They talked, chatting over an easy meal and she thought about that night. Khushi had a hard time, uncomfortable in the dress she had worn, how was she supposed to travel in it? NK had a solution for it too. The man travelled with extra clothes, and in her whiskey and rum soaked mind, it had seemed perfectly plausible that a girl would wear an XL grey blue dress shirt, clinched at the waist with a narrow black silk tie with candy apple red stilettos and nobody would say anything. They had travelled in his car, talking. Exchanging stories. Somehow her tales of woe and love had poured out, leaving her purged, if a little embarrassed and NK had known it. He had told her his, in love with a woman who had married before he had the chance to say much else. It had torn at Khushi’s heart; to think that she hadn’t cornered the market on pain. He had laughed at her woebegone expression, and they had drove all night, aimlessly, Led Zeppelin blasting from the car’s speakers. It was freedom, Khushi smiled. The kind she had never tasted before that night. He had poured her more to drink, until she had chugged the bailey’s straight from the bottle, licking her lips after the dessert liquor. He hadn’t drunk a drop though, it was as if he had known that Khushi had needed to cut loose, and when it was around 5ish, he had gently suggested that he would drop her home. Until then, Khushi had, in her search for thrills, forgotten that she had one. He had dropped her off home and had gone home, not before kissing her chastely on the cheeks and leaving her clutching his card, “Let’s do lunch,” he had said gently. They had, in fact so much did they enjoy each other’s company that Khushi and NK had fallen into a rhythm of meeting each other for lunch everyday. Khushi had originally told NK about Arnav’s accident - surprised, shocked. She just couldn’t imagine a man as controlled as him would lose control over a car he understood so well. She didn’t know what NK had understood (his understanding of Hindi was somewhat shady - Khushi would have blamed private schools abroad, but then Arnav had gone to them too,) but his eyes had gleamed. NK had immediately suggested a standing date for lunch, everyday. Khushi, craving some excitement from life; any excitement at all, had accepted and here they were.
Arnav had missed her for lunch yet again, he frowned. This was becoming a regular thing for the past week or so, she was never at the office during the lunch time. So, where was she? Arnav had tried catching her but somehow she had managed to slip by him - every time. He had wanted to do lunch with her today. At Naivedyam, talking, chatting, enjoying their easy camaraderie but Khushi it seemed was too busy for him these days to spare him a lunch or two. Arnav sulked, wondering where she had been. Aman would know. He stalked over to Aman’s desk who was happily munching on a sandwich, probably prepared by his fiance thought Arnav with a grin. How could he not pick on this man? Just look at him, he thought, not without some affection. Thin, lankily so. No one would imagine that there was a formidable brain in there, and a very very loyal one as well. Arnav respected and admired loyalty and since Aman gave him that - Aman didn’t know but his job security was pretty much guaranteed. He just liked giving the gentle looking bespectacled man a hard time. “Aman!” he barked, watching the man in question jerk, and then look up placidly, “Yes sir?”
Arnav almost grinned. Aman my man, he smiled, you’re going places - you just don’t know it. “Do you know where Khushi is at Aman?” he asked silkily, setting his employee’s spine on the edge. Aman knew his employer’s tones. This was a tone that demanded answer. One that he didn’t have, not really. He was just about to answer, when D’Souza jumped in, “Oh Sir!” said the chubby, jolly man with a big grin on his face. Nobody would guess that the man resembling a comedian was actually the head of Finances at AR, “I saw Ms. Gupta at Cocoa by Belgique just 10 minutes ago. I was there to pick up some cupcakes for my wife. She is pregnant you know...” looking at his displeased employer, he hastened to add, “Ms. Gupta was on a lunch date. I think it’s a standing date too, because all the servers say that they’ve been coming there for the past week or so for lunch. It’s a good cafe sir,” he added sunnily, “belongs to a friend of mine. Has the most heavenly...” D’Souza couldn’t finish his sentence because Arnav had gone back to his cabin and had slammed the door shut. The head of Accounts shrugged, confused, “What is wrong with Mr. Raizada today?” he asked an agitated Aman who sighed. He had known that a storm was coming, thought Aman miserably. He had known it.
Arnav almost grinned. Aman my man, he smiled, you’re going places - you just don’t know it. “Do you know where Khushi is at Aman?” he asked silkily, setting his employee’s spine on the edge. Aman knew his employer’s tones. This was a tone that demanded answer. One that he didn’t have, not really. He was just about to answer, when D’Souza jumped in, “Oh Sir!” said the chubby, jolly man with a big grin on his face. Nobody would guess that the man resembling a comedian was actually the head of Finances at AR, “I saw Ms. Gupta at Cocoa by Belgique just 10 minutes ago. I was there to pick up some cupcakes for my wife. She is pregnant you know...” looking at his displeased employer, he hastened to add, “Ms. Gupta was on a lunch date. I think it’s a standing date too, because all the servers say that they’ve been coming there for the past week or so for lunch. It’s a good cafe sir,” he added sunnily, “belongs to a friend of mine. Has the most heavenly...” D’Souza couldn’t finish his sentence because Arnav had gone back to his cabin and had slammed the door shut. The head of Accounts shrugged, confused, “What is wrong with Mr. Raizada today?” he asked an agitated Aman who sighed. He had known that a storm was coming, thought Aman miserably. He had known it.
She had been going on lunch dates? Without telling him? Without him? And what had D’souza said? They had been pretty regular, had they? A standing date? and the frustration from a week ago was back. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like that wretched sinking feeling he got in the pit of his stomach, when he had heard D’Souza talk about their standing lunch date. He had never stopped Khushi from going out and having fun with friends- had he? Hell, he had always encouraged her to make friends, go out and have fun! Then why wasn’t he informed about this particular lunch date friend of hers? He was hurt, he decided, that she didn’t find it important to tell him about this aspect of her life. They had always shared everything with each other. Yes. He was hurt. Because Khushi hadn’t told him about her standing lunch date.
His eyes widened as another thought struck him, and he whirled his chair around violently as he got up, mid-whirl. Was this lunch date friend the same one who’d lent her his shirt that night? Was this regular lunch thing something serious? His breath hitched- Was she...? No. Khushi wasn’t that foolish, was she? She wouldn’t take such a big step without telling him. Never. Wouldn’t she? a sly voice asked him, in the back of his mind- and he stopped dead in his tracks- almost slumping against his Desk. She would, he tried to assure himself- but failed miserably. Banging his palm on the table- he threw his head back- anger steadily rising. What the hell had happened to His girl?! Why was she behaving like this? Had he gone wrong somewhere?
Arnav looked at the gently swaying Lladro glass and porcelain lamp near his desk. There were butterflies embedded on its smooth glass surface, as if the white porcelain butterflies were breaking free, flying away. Like Khushi. Away from him, well away from him. He didn’t know why but suddenly he absolutely loathed the lamp his interior designer had paid an eye teeth for, having hunted it down from somewhere or the other. Arnav got up around his desk, ripped it clean off the ceiling and smashed it on the floor, watching dispassionately as the lamp shattered into thousand little pieces of glass and porcelain. He didn’t know why but the destruction calmed him down. Arnav knew he was a emotionally repressed man, nobody needed to tell him any better. Somehow it was a cathartic feeling every time he destroyed something these days. Maybe he needed therapy, he mused. After all, it was a fairly recent development and one that only happened when related to Khushi Kumari Gupta. The girl was after his sanity, he breathed in deeply. She really was. Arnav stared at the shards all over the floor in his cabin. Lladro. He rolled his eyes, he never liked the stupid lamp anyway. Always... dangling. He picked up his phone and called Aman on the intercom, “Aman, would you come in please? I have something to do for you,” Arnav needed the stupid lamp replaced. Aman could probably find something aesthetically pleasing as well as functional. The stupid interior decorator would probably have a cow.
He looked up when Aman came in, pointing to the shattered remains of the lamp, he said- as coolly as he could manage- “Replace that.” and walked out. Leaving a bewildered Aman behind in his wake.
Cocoa was it? By Belgique? Well, he would just have to accidentally drop in for those heavenly cupcakes then wouldn’t he? He was sure they made sugar-free ones... or maybe he was just low on sugar today. He shrugged, as he stepped on the accelerator, he didn’t really care- as long as he could have lunch with His Girl. He had to find out what that Man had in mind for her- and he was the only one who could look out for her. She was naive, his Khush. Always trusting everybody- believing in giving chances to everyone. It was upto him to protect her from no-good perverts and lechers like this lunch date man wasn’t it? He couldn’t let her down at that front.
She would get over the guy. She would have to. He would help her through it. It was all fine that this asshole had been her first... he shuddered at that and moved on. No matter. She deserved better. So what if her first was a total bastard? Khushi would have to move on. He couldn’t let her get miserable over some idiot who didn’t deserve her anyways. He would just have to be strong for her, he decided. But first, he had to dispose that Asshole off- before he could get his dirty paws on his little girl again. He parked his car across the street and strode into the Cafe. His eyes scanning every booth for that small face, topped with a mass of dark hair- that she no doubt had in a suave and professional chignon. She liked to stay formal, His Khush. At that precise moment, he heard her tinkling laugh, and turned around. And stopped.
Arnav walked towards the enclave where they both sat, sipping some sort of coffee (She never drinks coffee with him, he thought sourly. Says the caffeine gives her a headache. I guess some were worth it, he thought snarkily). He pasted a smile that had wound him on Times Most Eligible list and walked towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she turned around and stared, shocked, he said, “What are you doing here Khushi?” there was a world of surprise in his voice. Surprise and a little hurt. If Khushi hadn’t known that D’Souza had spotted them less than 20 minutes ago, she would have totally fallen for it, for now she pretended. “Lunch of course, Arnav,” she smiled. “Meet my friend N.K. Singhania,” she looked at N.K. with dancing eyes, “N.K. meet my guardian Arnav Singh Raizada”. Arnav didn’t know why, but the word guardian felt like the most loathsome word in the dictionary when the Singhania idiot with his big goofy smile and bloody twinkling eyes turned and scrutinized him carefully, before offering him his hand to shake. “Ah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Raizada.” he said- rasped more like, Arnav thought viciously. Smoker, He knew it! Didn’t the guy know how dangerous that was? No. Khushi was not going to be with some Smoker Singhania with his big goofy smiles- was he high? Then why was he smiling like that at Khushi? She wasn’t cracking jokes was she? God, how he wanted to bash those perfect whites out of his mouth!
Instead, he curtly nodded at them and motioned for the server to pack 20 dark chocolate mocha cupcakes with marshmallow mint icing and when Khushi gasped, thinking of all the sugar in it, he pretended not to notice. Instead, he picked up the bill (including the one for the Singhania-Gupta table, knowing the value of psychological edge very well), and silently left. Arnav dropped the box of cupcakes on Aman’s table. When the lanky young man looked up at him and blinked, confused again, “These are for your fiancee, give her my compliments. A expression of gratitude for sharing her time with you so freely if you wish, go home. ” and he then, without listening to any of Aman’s stammering gratitudes, he went to his cabin and slammed the door shut. He noticed that Aman had replaced the light already, a minor miracle and had cleaned all the glass and porcelain from his cabin and the carpet - a major one. Arnav sat there quietly, stewing in anger. Burning up; so he was a guardian then. Not even a friend? Well, then...
When Aman peeked in a few minutes later to say goodbye, he noticed ASR deep in thought, face blanked out. Eyes shuttered again. The man was plotting again, he thought with a sigh. Probably something to do with Ms. Gupta. Aman shook his head wondering, what the hell was he going to do with this situation between his employers’?
When Aman peeked in a few minutes later to say goodbye, he noticed ASR deep in thought, face blanked out. Eyes shuttered again. The man was plotting again, he thought with a sigh. Probably something to do with Ms. Gupta. Aman shook his head wondering, what the hell was he going to do with this situation between his employers’?
When Khushi came into Arnav’s office, she was pretty surprised. There had been no grilling. He hadn’t blown up as she had expected either. Instead, he had been very quiet. Very civil. Khushi had silently thanked Devi Maiyya for his suddenly discovered maturity for what concerns her until, when they reached home and he left without eating anything she realized - He was giving her the silent treatment; ASR style.
Countergambit, Arnav thought. Chess again. How his life revolved around it. Pick your pawns Khushi, he mused. The game is just getting interesting.
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