by Sonia Rao
Stuck-up guy, Shivalika thought but was glad her heart got a respite. She really needed to stop getting so affected by VK.
It was almost 2:30pm when VK stepped out of his cabin and called out to Shivalika.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Shivalika was prepared but his sudden call flustered her and, in her confusion, said, “Is Nate coming too?”
“No, he’s not. Any problems?” VK said, his forehead creased into a frown.
Embarrassed, she blushed pink and shook her head. Damn, she’d gone and put her foot in her mouth. Damn that VK! He surely had the knack of making her look like a fool.
She quickly picked up her laptop and walked out behind VK. Nate gave her a strange look as she passed him and she responded with a sheepish smile.
******
The restaurant was across the road from their office. “Let’s walk. Will you be okay?” he said, looking at her shoes.
Shivalika nodded. So, Mr. Hotshot was not so stuck up on himself. Nice.
Luckily, afternoon traffic was quite sparse. They crossed the road easily and entered the restaurant. The maître d’ came up to them immediately, a welcoming smile on his face. VK took him aside for a quick, quiet conversation.
The maître d’ remained smiling as he led them to a corner table. It was the middle of the week and also the end of lunch hour, so attendance at the restaurant was low.
Shivalika opened up her laptop and positioned its screen to face VK. She began her presentation which laid out in detail her methods of research and the samples used. Mainland Chinese was one of the last places she had tracked for her study of the evolution of interiors over the past years. While the lunch crowd was mostly office goers, dinner time saw a large elite clientele. These were the people who travelled a lot internationally and the restaurant made sure their interiors appealed to this demography. Shivalika discreetly pointed out to the different parts of the restaurant to support her thesis. Once or twice they even had to get up for a closer look but no one in the restaurant seemed much bothered about it.
When they were seated again, he said, “Are you copying them?”
Shivalika looked up, shocked. “How can you even say such a thing?” she almost shouted.
Had he misunderstood her presentation? It was a forecast for future trends in interiors and in fact she had included many design ideas that the restaurant could adopt in the new season.
The restaurant was only one of the many points in her very elaborate presentation. She had made sure it was up to international standards with lots of examples and all research sources cited. For this project, she had coordinated with and consulted many experts from the fields of food, fashion and travel.
She looked at him again and then she wished she hadn’t. The way he was looking at her made her blush from the neck to the roots of her hair. The pale pink color reddened her cheeks and as her gaze fell on his lips, she wondered how it would feel if he kissed her and then put up her hands to her face at the sheer audacity of her thoughts.
This was not something that she thought of much at all. She had never really felt the desire and even when Nate had insisted she’d slip out of his grasp as soon as she felt he was going to come close to her for a peck.
But now she noticed how sensual VK’s lips were: bow shaped, the lower lip more generous than the upper but by a slight bit, pink, perfect for kissing. How would they feel on her mouth, teasing, tingling, tasting...her name in his mouth...like a light in the dark—
Just then, the maitre d’ arrived at their table and asked, “What would you like to have?”
I would love to have VK on a platter, ready and willing. Where had that thought come from?! She quickly looked down, hoping her curtain of hair shielded her face from his. She felt herself being dragged deeper and deeper into something that felt strangely pleasant.
“Could I interest you in something, sir?” Perhaps some honey noodles and ice-cream?
“Shivalika?” VK said, questioningly. She shook her head.
“Get us chilli paneer,” he said. Shivalika shot a look at VK and he gave her a wicked look.
“You too?” she said, a laugh beginning to bubble up.
“Shhh...don’t tell anyone. It’s our special secret,” he said, putting a finger on his lip.
“Pinky swear...I won’t,” Shivalika said, holding out her little finger.
VK crossed it with his own, his eyes gazing deep into hers.
Flustered, she turned her attention to her presentation and pretended to be busy making notes.
“I am sorry, you were right.” Her head shot up at these unexpected words spoken in his smooth, husky voice.
“Sorry?” She was not sure she’d heard it right the first time. It was just not possible that this arrogant man had agreed that he was not right about something.
Instead of replying, he gave her a slight smile. It was a rather crooked one and the effect was devastating because at the same time he combed his fingers through his thick hair and a lock rakishly fell over his right eye.
He brushed it aside and said, “There really is no doubt that your forecast is very good and I was a fool to not see it at first. Your presentation proves it and I am happy to tell you that you were right.”
At first, Shivalika was dumbstruck. Then, as the words sunk in, she felt butterflies flutter inside her chest, leaving her breathless.
The waiter elegantly served them the chilli paneer. As they dug into it, VK said, “I agree with your plan. Let’s go ahead with it.”
His words were so important to her and spoken so casually she didn’t know how to react. As she bit into another piece of paneer, her eyes glittered with unshed tears of relief as the tension of the previous days came to an end. Shivalika looked at the time in her laptop. They’d been there for almost two and a half hours.
They had finished eating when VK’s phone buzzed. He read the message and then said, “Misha is already at the office. Let’s go.”
*****
VK’s girlfriend came so often to the office, it was as if she was interning there. The actual reason, as the office grapevine discovered, was that she was also investing in this business along with VK. There were also strong rumours of them getting married to each other to seal the deal.
Today, she looked like she’d stepped right out of Vogue. She wore what was the showstopper of the collection shown by the designer just the previous evening: A long, fuschia-coloured silk skirt, bordered with almost two and a half inches of intricate gold zari embroidery, with a tube top of hot orange silk. The whole combination was set off by the shot orange and gold dupatta.
The outfit would have looked better on a bride and looked out of place in the office but Misha with her model-like thinness was carrying it off very well. Shivalika felt pathetically-dressed in front of her and hurried to her desk to hide behind it.
As it was, Shivalika was keen to avoid Misha. Downright rude and arrogant, especially with Shivalika, Misha always looked at her through dark, narrowed eyes as if she did not trust her.
In that case both VK and Misha were more like brother and sister rather than lovers because they both looked at her with unconcealed suspicion and hate. In VK’s case, though, she had seen his nice side and also a trait which she wouldn’t have believed he possessed: humility. She wouldn’t have believed it if she had not experienced it.
Misha waited, haughtily looking around the office as if she was in a warehouse.
“Let’s leave. We’ll get tons of traffic on the way,” she said to VK, tapping her foot impatiently.
The peon brought her a glass of water and she waved it off as if he was offering her poison. He came back with Diet Coke. She waved him off again saying it would spoil her makeup. And then she continued to crib that the high temperature in that office would spoil her makeup, her hair and even her clothes.
Everyone in the office began to wish VK would leave soon so that they would be rid of his girlfriend too but being the workaholic that he wa
s, it was difficult for him to leave till he had micromanaged everything and delegated tasks to each one in the office.
It was Shivalika’s turn to get instructions but before VK could say a thing, Misha, fluttering her eyelashes, piped in, “Let’s go, VK, or we’re going to be very late for the ceremony.”
Taking heed of her words, VK walked away towards his cabin, his girlfriend trailing behind him.
Everyone went back to work and so did Shivalika. It was difficult for her to focus, her mind still on the afternoon’s incidents. She opened the file in front of her and then gave a start. VK’s signature was needed on the vendor file that had been pending for payment since over a week. With any more delay, the vendor would be forced to hold up the delivery of their product. Shivalika hurried towards VK’s cabin with the file. The door was half open so she gave it a push and walked in.
“You’re looking gorgeous,” Misha was saying, as she stood up on her toes, her face upturned for a kiss. VK had donned a silk shirt and was now pulling on his coat.
Shivalika was horrified and quickly turned to go.
“Did you want something, Shivalika?” he said, stopping her in her tracks.
She quickly opened the file and pointing to a space marked with a blue-colored cross, said, “Your signature is needed here.”
“Leave it on the desk.”
As she moved towards the table to keep the file on it, VK, his eyes on Shivalika, planted a very exaggerated kiss on his girlfriend’s lips.
Shivalika could feel her cheeks go warm with embarrassment and she dropped off the file and almost ran out of the room.
Once they left the office, Shivalika expelled a sigh of relief and it was only then she realized that she had been holding her breath all along.
Within minutes, everyone was out of their seats and talking all at once about VK and Misha. Shivalika sat back in her chair, her thoughts still on VK.
“Do you know VK is from Delhi?” Krina asked, in one of the silent pauses that occur suddenly during conversations.
Before anyone could reply, she continued, “Do you know he’s listed as the most eligible billionaire bachelor in India? He sold his startup to one of the world’s top e-commerce sites.”
“Oooohhhh...how romantic,” the other intern said, making everyone give her weird looks.
“What was his startup about?” Shivalika asked.
“Something related to e-designing of interiors.”
That’s impressive, thought Shivalika. But what were his plans for La Piazza, she wondered. And, if he was doing so well in Delhi, why was he in Mumbai?
CHAPTER 8
“Why the heck am I in Mumbai?” VK asked himself this question again and again as he waited at the bar. Why had he left his beloved Delhi and come to this crazy, over-crowded, hyperactive but also exciting and full-of-fun city of Mumbai? Suddenly, an image of Shivalika entered his mind but before he could savour it, he was grabbed in a big hug from the back.
“VK, my love, you asshat, how are you?” said the person hugging him.
A couple of people at the bar gave them strange looks but they could be forgiven for being confused at this greeting. Girish, TJ, Samkit and VK had met and then become a team in Stanford’s MBA program. They felt that addressing each other this way helped them stay glued to their roots. This juvenile way of talking also made them laugh and miss their homes a little bit less.
“Girru,” VK said, laughing in delight. He would recognise that hug and the hugger anywhere. And of course, that Davidoff cologne. “Still think Davidoff makes you seem sexy?” Turning around in his seat, he ribbed Girish who just guffawed and sat down next to him.
“So, how’s Mumbai treating you?” Girish said, at the same time gesturing to the bartender for one of their famed cold pressed juices. “Carrot Lemon,” he mouthed the flavor to the bartender.
“Hey, it’s just been a week.”
“Can get under your skin, this city. I love it.” Girish Sanghvi was a Mumbaikar to the core, having been born and brought up here.
“Sam’s not well. He can’t travel so he won't be able to make it today. But where’s TJ? He was supposed to be coming with you, said VK, glancing at the time in his Rolex.
“He must be going around in circles, looking for parking.”
“So, how come you got the parking?”
“I’m much smarter than him. I inspired the security guard to let me park in the owners’ parking lot.”
“Inspired? You mean bribed.”
“Chhee. That’s such a horrible word. It’s just a matter of a few hours and no one gets hurt since the owners have anyway left for the day. Make a killing where you see a lacuna. Or void. You know nature abhors a vacuum. I, in fact, helped to fill that vacuum left by the owner’s car.”
VK guffawed. “You and your pj’s are intact. Thank god for some things that have never changed.”
“Like your father’s disapproval?” said Girish, throwing VK a shrewd look.
But before VK could reply, they were joined by a medium tall man who slapped them on their backs.
“TJ” they both said, in delighted tones. “You finally made it.”
“Yes, finally got parking, the gods be praised.” he said. “Let’s grab a table somewhere, my feet are killing me,” he said.
Suddenly the other two stood still in embarrassed silence. TJ had hurt his legs in an accident and now limped, especially when he was too tired.
Seeing them so quiet, TJ gave a loud laugh and said, “Shut up you guys...or rather, stop it, you guys. I was cracking a joke, got it? Come on, I have enough of shifty looks and whispers from people. Now don't tell me you two will also begin doing that. And don’t you think it’s a bit late in the day for it?”
“What shifty looks! You look like a million dollars. They must be staring at your pecs,” VK said with a laugh. TJ had a worked-out body and at 2inches short of 6feet he was very attractive.
“Not as much as you, macho man,” countered TJ.
“If you both have quite finished with your mutual admiration society, can we go to our table?” Girish said, pretending to be miffed. He was well-built and played squash on Sunday mornings. That was the extent of his exercise routine and if he still looked good, it was definitely because of having inherited good genes.
“So, what were you two talking about earlier?” TJ said, once the waiter had served them their special selection of cold-pressed fruit juices. “I heard something about fathers,” he continued.
“You’ve touched the raw nerve again,” Girish said, playfully punching him on the arm.
“You were talking about VK’s dad’s ill treatment of him?”
“Bulls-eye! And why are we even surprised? Remember what he did at Stanford?” Girish said.
They all fell silent, lost in thoughts of that time. VK had been selected for the rugby team but his father had come personally and told the college to remove his name from the team.
“I am sending you to study here, not waste time on bloody balling and all that nonsense. Better you take up a job. At least I’ll save some of my money that way,” he had said to the utterly devastated VK. Even now, his mouth twisted with the remembered pain of his father’s action.
The worst part was that his father was filthy rich. He was known as the Lord of Plastics and his brand National Plastics was synonymous with plastic furniture. In fact, lately they had introduced a range of formal plastic furniture for the home. A son of refugee parents, VK’s father had built his business from scratch. “I know the value of money” was his favourite dialogue.
But VK always hankered after his father’s approval. Be it through his brilliance in studies or proficiency in sports or then building a one-of-its-kind e-commerce business for interiors.
But his father had only this to say when he saw VK’s picture in the newspapers: “Anyone can do that. Working on computers and all. Real thing is when you come face to face with your customer and then build such a big business. Like I have done.”
VK shook his head to clear the reminders of the past. “And that’s why I sold my online business and came to Mumbai, to prove to my father that I can make a success of an offline business too. Also, I miss Mom too much.”
His mother had always stood up for him. Been the buffer between his father and him. Six months ago, she hadn’t woken up in the morning. The doctor said it was a sudden cardiac arrest. Every time he thought about her, he wanted to cry. A little ray of light in the darkness of her absence was that she had seen him achieve success in his business. She had been so proud to see him featured in all those newspapers and magazines. One of the youngest e-com billionaires, they had called him. A charismatic leader. Most eligible bachelor. All that adulation now felt lacklustre without his mom’s presence.
“That you got billions when you sold the business cuts no ice with him, apparently?” TJ asked, breaking into his thoughts. Noticing the slight glitter in his eyes, TJ clutched his shoulder in moral support.
VK just shook his head in response as he took another gulp of his orange-grapefruit combi.
“Does he know that your net worth now is the same as his?” Girish said.
“He’s found a way to rectify that,” VK said, with a short laugh.
“Knowing your dad, this can’t be good,” TJ said.
A waiter, hovering nearby, came closer to their table to take their order. Girish gestured to him to come back later and turning to VK, asked, “How?”
“You won’t believe it. Have you heard of Rollo Plastics? They are my dad’s business competition. He wants me to get married to the founder’s daughter. Then both their businesses will be combined and my dad’s business will become the biggest in the country.”
“And if you refuse her brothers will come and chop you up into pieces?”
“Or, she’s uneducated and lives in a village but makes fabulous aloo parathas and so she will be the perfect bahu?”
VK burst out laughing. “Hey guys, take a chill pill. Nothing of that sort. Misha is very smart. She’s a Columbia girl.”