As he pulled away from her, she moaned in protest and Abhimanyu couldn’t help smiling. Kissing her again on her forehead, he helped her into her seat and closed the door.
The drive to the hotel was spent in an awkward silence. Every time Pakhi tried to sneak a glance at him, he’d turn to face her. She’d blush to the roots of her hair, and quickly turn away, faking interest in a hawker or some sign board.
At the signal before they turned into the hotel, he asked her, ‘Do you want to know what your father told me, Pakhi?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice soft as she angled herself in her seat to face him.
Glancing at the signal to see he had about forty-five seconds, Abhimanyu shifted in his seat to face her properly.
‘He told me you like tuberoses and that he knows how to use a shotgun.’
‘What?’ Pakhi couldn’t believe her ears. ‘He actually said that? Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, Abhimanyu,’ and she covered her face with her hands.
‘Hey! Relax,’ he said, peeling her hands away from her face. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever give him cause to use the shotgun. But I did thank him for telling me about the tuberoses!’
‘Why do you have a smirk on your face, young man?’ Abhimanyu’s grandfather observed when he walked into the dining room later that night.
Caught unawares, Abhimanyu felt his cheeks go warm, and thanked his stars for his beard. At least his grandfather wouldn’t see his flaming face. But the old man was much sharper than his grandson gave him credit.
‘Hmmm…? You want to share the reason?’ he persisted.
‘Share what?’ came Abhimanyu’s rejoinder, trying very hard to sound composed.
‘You know, you’re going to be forty-three next month. Don’t behave like a teenager caught with his pants down now,’ the older man said, exasperated.
‘Jesus! Will you give it a rest?’ Abhimanyu almost cringed in embarrassment.
‘Fine. Whatever. Did you thank Pakhi for the rasmalai?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I didn’t get around to it,’ Abhimanyu replied, looking a little more abashed.
‘What do you mean you didn’t get around it? What were you doing all day?’ His grandfather was now on fire.
‘Arre, you crazy old man, go to sleep!’ And saying that Abhimanyu stalked out of the dining room, leaving his grandfather smirking.
‘Thank God! At least he won’t die a virgin.’ He laughed as he piled a mound of rice onto his plate. Tonight’s dinner was quite worth the delay.
6
‘Pakhi, could you come in here, please?’ Abhimanyu’s voice sounded through the kitchen just as she entered. She was the first one to reach work and her heart was fluttering like a butterfly.
She walked into Abhimanyu’s office, which was a slightly larger room than her own. As soon as she entered, Abhimanyu stood up from his chair, sporting a smile that would make the Cheshire cat seem like an angel. ‘Close the door behind you, please.’
Closing the door, Pakhi turned around to take in Abhimanyu dressed in a white US Polo T-shirt, light blue chinos and light brown moccasins. With his long hair hanging loose about his shoulders, he looked like a demigod.
‘Yes, Chef?’ Pakhi asked, clearing her throat, her voice slightly husky because of her unsteady heartbeat.
‘You’re going to ‘Chef’ me now, Miss Mehra?’ he teased her, and his accompanying grin sent her heart into overdrive.
‘You’re going to ‘Miss Mehra’ me now, Chef?’ she countered.
He threw his head back and laughed a deep, throaty chuckle. Pakhi stared at him momentarily, ogling him, and then joined in his laughter.
‘We can do this all day, you know,’ he said, as he took two steps forward and closed the distance between them.
He cupped her face in his hands like he had done the previous night and was just about to kiss her when she pulled back.
‘Abhimanyu … I … this … I…,’ she stammered, overwhelmed by the emotions engulfing her.
‘Pakhi, I promise, nothing too hasty,’ he whispered softly, pulling her back into his embrace.
She went willingly, resting her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. There was something so profound about that moment – something infinitely more precious and valuable. For both of them. And Pakhi knew that. Here was this man offering her something she had never expected, never thought she would ever get – just warmth. A shoulder to rest her head on, because she was tired and weary. And right now, Abhimanyu was all she needed; him and the comfort of his strong arms around her. Everything else could wait.
It was Abhimanyu who broke the silence. ‘Achha, I didn’t call you in just so that you could feel me up!’
Pakhi sprang out of his embrace and Abhimanyu laughed that heart-stopping laugh again.
‘Hey! Not fair, Chef,’ she said in mock anger.
‘What do the kids these days say?’ He pretended to scratch his head before saying, ‘Oh, right. Lol.’
‘You’re mad, Abhimanyu,’ Pakhi said, laughter ringing in her voice.
‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘Anyway, here’s what I want to talk to you about. I need to go to Kolkata for a few days. We are doing up the kitchens and restaurants’ interiors at our hotel there, and I would really like your inputs.’ He was about to give her the brochure for the hotel in Kolkata when he noticed the expression on her face.
‘Kolkata?’ her voice was almost inaudible.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.
‘Abhimanyu … I … err … I can’t leave Abhi…,’ her voice trailed off.
‘Pakhi,’ his tone was gentle and placating as he understood what was worrying her. ‘She can come with us,’ he added.
Pakhi couldn’t contain the happiness in her voice as she asked, ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure, darling girl,’ Abhimanyu said as his arms went around her again. ‘You, me and that little lump are going to have a great time.’
‘Papa, are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Pakhi asked her father as he took his seat at the breakfast table. ‘I can tell Abhimanyu to go on without me.’
‘No, no,’ her father protested. ‘Why shouldn’t you go?’ He helped himself to the toast that was laid out on the table, spreading a generous dollop of butter on one of the slices.
‘I’m just saying I don’t need to go if you’re not OK,’ she told him as she gently removed the over-buttered slice of bread from his hand.
‘Hey!’ he protested again. ‘Can’t a man eat his breakfast in peace?’
‘He can as long as he doesn’t kill himself in the process,’ she replied. ‘Your cholesterol is off the charts, Papa,’ she added when she saw that he was about to argue with her.
‘Fine,’ said the old man. ‘But who’s going to stop me tomorrow?’
‘Papa, please,’ Pakhi began to implore.
He quickly held his hand up and said, ‘OK, OK, will you relax? I can take care of myself, Pakhi.’
‘Oh, really?’ she gestured toward the moist slice of bread that was still dripping butter onto the side plate.
Her father simply shook his head, and smiled. ‘Go on, beta, you need to have some fun,’ he said. ‘You used to smile a lot, you know. You don’t anymore,’ he added, his voice tinged with sadness.
‘Papa, it’s not been easy, and you know it,’ Pakhi tried to comfort her father. ‘But I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.’
‘Yes, my child,’ the old man replied, his voice soft, acknowledging the sincerity of his daughter’s words. ‘But that doesn’t mean you should not have a good time. The past one year has been tough on you. You’ve had responsibilities thrust on you at such a young age,’ he added, shaking his head.
Sighing audibly as she realized that there was no way her father would let her stay back, Pakhi poured him a glass of orange juice.
An hour later Abhi and she were packed and ready.
‘Where a
re we going, Ooaa?’ Abhi asked Pakhi, undoubtedly ecstatic at the prospect of missing school for a few days.
Pakhi was about to answer when the doorbell rang. It was Abhimanyu’s driver. Apparently, Abhimanyu would join them at the airport. She felt her heart sink, disappointed that he had sent his driver to pick them up instead of coming himself. She got into the backseat of the Toyota Land Cruiser and said goodbye to her father.
‘Take care, Papa,’ she said to the old man, before adding,‘And go easy on the butter for a few days. I have told Sumitra bai to keep an eye on you.’
‘Enjoy yourself, beta. Don’t worry about me.’ To his granddaughter he said, ‘Be a good girl, Abhi. And don’t trouble Ooaa too much!’
The drive to the airport took about twenty minutes longer than normal. But one good thing about traffic in Mumbai was that it gave you the chance to listen to some soulful music on the radio. One of the stations was playing old Hindi classics and Pakhi temporarily forgot that she was mad at Abhimanyu, as Kishore Kumar sang about the queen of his dreams. Beside her, Abhithi was busy leafing through her favourite book of animals. Pakhi smoothed her curls and looked out of the window, her thoughts drifting to the day she had received a phone call with news that had shattered her world.
Pakhi had been working as assistant chef at the Leela, Bengaluru. Her boss, Chef Arvind Gill, had asked her to oversee the desserts section, as the hotel was hosting a conference on environmental conservation attended by the world’s leading diplomats, scientists, conservation specialists and activists. The media had been in and out of the hotel, for interviews with eminent personalities and important international dignitaries.
Pakhi had personally designed and prepared the dessert menu. She’d chosen to go with simple desserts, which would be easy on the palettes of the foreign guests as well. She’d created a delectable green velvet cake accompanied by mint chocolate-chip cookies, wine grape terrine, made with grapes, gelatin and Riesling; and a Key-lime cheesecake. The Indian spread of desserts had jalebis with rabri, rasmalai and gaajar ka halwa.
Although Pakhi was familiar and comfortable with all sections of the menu, her heart truly was in the desserts. In her spare time she experimented with various flavours and pairings to come up with new additions to the desserts she had already added to the menu at the Leela. In the six months that she’d worked there, her boss was already very happy with her contributions and had recently mentioned a promotion to Junior Head Chef.
Pakhi’s head had been swimming with all the opportunities this promotion would present. She was just putting the finishing touches to the green velvet cake when Dilip Kannan, one of the kitchen attendants told her there was a call for her.
‘Can’t it wait, Dilip? Who is it?’
‘It is your father,’ Dilip replied.
‘Tell him I’m in the middle of something and that I’ll call him back,’ she said hurriedly, just as she placed the cake on the serving belt.
‘Pakhi,’ Dilip’s voice was low. ‘You should take this.’
Pakhi looked up from her workstation at the younger man on the other side of the kitchen. His face was etched with worry and she instinctively knew something was seriously wrong. Wiping her hands on her apron, she half ran across to the phone and took the receiver from Dilip. Her hand was already shaking with dread.
‘Hello? Papa? Is everything OK?’ Her voice trembled.
‘Pakhi, beta,’ her dad’s voice was heavy, as if he’d been crying.
‘Papa, what is it? What’s happened?’ She couldn’t hide the concern from her voice anymore. Beside her, Dilip began to fidget nervously, almost as if he was waiting to catch her in case she fainted.
And she almost did. For the next words her father wept into the phone brought her entire world crashing down. Her brother and sister-in-law had met with a fatal accident on their way to Mumbai. How could they have collided with an oil tanker? Her brother was the safest driver in the world. She had often teased him about how she could count the number of pedestrians walking while he was driving. How could this have happened? They had just started their life together. And her little niece? Oh God!
‘Papa,’ she breathed into the phone. ‘Papa! Is Abhi OK?’
‘Abhi is in the ICU,’ her father’s voice was faint now. ‘She has suffered burns,’ he added before his voice broke, and he sobbed, ‘Pakhi, I need you to come here.’
‘Yes, Papa,’ she cried. ‘I will take the next flight out.’
‘OK, beta. And Rajeev?’
‘I’m sure he will understand, Papa,’ she managed to reply in between her own sobs.
‘Ooaa, wake up!’ Abhi gently shook her awake. Pakhi opened her eyes to see they had reached the airport – except this wasn’t the regular entrance to the airport. This was an airstrip and right ahead stood Abhimanyu. Behind him was a small aircraft that had Dev Intercontinental printed across the body.
Oh my God! That’s a private jet!
7
After settling Abhithi down for a short nap in the ridiculously large bedroom in the rear end of the aircraft, Pakhi determinedly walked to Abhimanyu. He was sitting in one of the luxuriously appointed chairs that could swivel 360 degrees. The brown and beige interiors of the aircraft were meant to be warm and welcoming but Pakhi could have throttled Abhimanyu right then. Instead, she settled in the seat opposite to him and waited for him to look up from his laptop. Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t looked up. Pakhi cleared her throat, signalling her presence.
‘I know you’re here, Pakhi, and I know you’re mad at me,’ he drawled silkily. ‘But could I please finish this note before you pounce on me?’
‘I … what?’ Pakhi’s voice grew a few decibels too loud and their airhostess, Natasha or Sasha or whatever Miss Miniskirt had said her name was, looked up from her magazine. Pakhi was sure she was reading the latest issue of some trashy magazine.
‘Ssshh!’ Abhimanyu admonished her. ‘You’ll wake Abhi.’
Pakhi felt colour bloom in her cheeks, but she remained silent after that. How could he have not told her that they were going by the company jet? Who did he think he was? Richard Gere from Pretty Woman? What would Lalit and gang think when they heard of this? If anything, he should have made her and Abhi travel by a regular airline, and he could have travelled in his jet.
‘OK,’ she heard him say and she turned away from the window to see he had shut his laptop and was watching her closely.
‘What’s bothering you, Miss Mehra?’ His voice was calm and smooth.
‘As if you don’t know!’ Pakhi sulked. This was so unlike her. Why was she sulking? Oh yes, she was mad at him.
‘Ah! Yes, you’re angry because you’re travelling very, very comfortably. Would you like Alisha to take your glass of champagne back?’
Oh, so that’s her name.
‘Abhimanyu,’ Pakhi began, but she was cut short as he reached over and caught hold of her hand.
‘Yes, Pakhi?’ he said, his eyes roving down her face, stopping at her parted lips then down her neck, and finally settling on the top button of her blouse, which was cut low enough for him to get a glimpse of her creamy cleavage.
Pakhi forgot to breathe for about ten seconds. She wanted him to stop looking at her, and at the same time wanted him to touch her. Inhaling sharply, she pulled her hand out of his grasp, and pulled the neckline of her blouse higher.
Dressed in black jeans, black polo T-shirt, black leather jacket and black boots, the man looked like sin. His hair was not tied back into a ponytail. It hung loose, just slightly past his shoulders. Pakhi felt her mouth go dry. She snuck her tongue out to lick her lips.
Abhimanyu saw that tiny innocent action and it was enough to drive him crazy. Shifting slightly in his seat to hide his growing erection, his eyes caught hers. And what he saw in those brown depths almost sent him over the edge.
‘Pakhi, I want…’ But before he could say anymore, the captain announced that they were commencing their descent. Pakhi jumped from her seat and hu
rried down the aisle to wake Abhi.
At least Abhithi was enjoying herself, Pakhi thought as she followed her niece around the lobby of the hotel. Abhimanyu was at the reception checking them in. The drive from the airport to the hotel had been spent listening to Abhithi chatter away. She’d woken up from her nap just in time for their descent into Kolkata.
At the door, while Abhimanyu was signing some documents the captain had brought out, Alisha had tried to engage Abhithi in a game of ‘Guess what I have in my hand?’ Pakhi had never been prouder of Abhithi as the little girl had paid absolutely no heed to Miss Miniskirt. A lesson in manners could be taught later, Pakhi decided.
She chased Abhithi around the lobby and stopped short when the lump caught hold of Abhimanyu’s leg. He bent down and swung her into his arms like a baby and said, ‘Hey, baby girl.’
‘Have a pleasant stay, sir. The bellboy will take you to your suite,’ the concierge told Abhimanyu as he handed over a small envelope.
Pakhi wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly. ‘Suite?’ she asked Abhimanyu, her eyes glittering with growing anger.
‘The suite has two bedrooms, Pakhi,’ he quickly told her, knowing exactly where she was going with this.
‘No,’ she shook her head vigorously. ‘We cannot stay in the same suite, Abhimanyu.’
‘And why not?’ he countered.
‘Because it is not right. I want my own room,’ she demanded.
‘Pakhi, you do have your own room. In any case, the hotel is overbooked already, he told her, his patience wearing thin. ‘They don’t have unoccupied single rooms.’
‘How do you know?’ she asked him. ‘Did you ask?’
‘I don’t need to, Pakhi, I own the hotel,’ he replied through gritted teeth.
When she didn’t respond immediately he assumed she had let the matter go. But what she said next annoyed the hell out of him.
Served with Love Page 4