Disguised Darling|✓

Episode 11

Mishti hums manoeuvring through the kitchen as she prepares Samrat's morning coffee: Two shots of espresso, one sugar and half cup milk, not too far from how she likes her own coffee, just with a bit more sugar.

She has to go by her name now, doesn't she?

Preparing a set of toast and placing it on the tray by the coffee, Mishti makes her way to the dining table where Samrat sits, though today he isn't scrolling through some news or his professionally managed insta feed as he usually does at this time of the day, but is sitting with a laptop open in front of him, murmuring to himself, tapping the end of the pen at his temple.

"- shipping will be done on Friday, would reach the recipient till Sunday...... Saturday would be good for placing order for the raw Material, Monday to buy stak -"

"Sir, your breakfast," Mishti states, placing the tray in front of the man, holding the cup of coffee in her hands, placing it on the saucer, the caffeinated fumes aromatizing the room.

"Not now, Preeti." He mutters, momentarily stopping the tapping of his pen in favour to look up at her, irritated at his train of thought getting interrupted.

"Sir, but you haven't -"

"Yes, yes I know but I'm busy right now and don't want any distractions, alright? Now where was I?" Samrat grumbles, scrunching his eyes shut to remember whatever he was saying.

"You were thinking about placing the order on Saturday for raw material since Friday would go on shipping the furniture and would reach the recipients till Sunday, and Monday to buy the stakes."

Mishti doesn't know why she replies but she does, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she is finally able to get Samrat's attention to herself, or on the cup of coffee to be precise that she once again sends his way, placing it right under his nose as he slowly pushes away the laptop from himself and graces her with a look that can be identified as amused, his lips twitching to some extent, the furrow between his brows vanishing.

"Thanks." He remarks, and takes the cup of coffee from her hands.

Mishti releases a relieved breath.

"It's my job, sir." She answers but the twitch on his lips doesn't get perturbed as he murmurs, "Not quite."

Mishti rushes back into the kitchen after that, and doesn't come out until the sun goes down, and a guest that had arrived in the house not too long ago is getting ready to leave.

"It was lovely to have you here, Mr Singhania."

"You too, Mr Agnihotri. Your company designs the best furniture in the market. Someone like you trusting and investing in our shares, and becoming our company's stakeholder is a great news for us."

Mishti observes as her employer smiles with his chest puffed and his head held high when his would-be business partner praises his company. It doesn't come as a surprise to her because even before she had come into this house, before the agency had zeroed on Samrat as their target, they all had heard about SEPIA, one of the leading furniture manufacturing companies in India. And currently, Mishti can't help but replicate the prideful smile.

"Oh, and before I forget, the food that was served was excellent. I would personally like to give compliments to the chef." The man in the suit says and Mishti's eyes widen, her gaze immediately flitting to the not so professional dress that she's wearing under her apron, no chef hat on her head and no culinary degrees under her belt. The last thing she wants is to make Samrat lose that pride on his face because of her when she has already once seen him at his worst.

The moment Singhania says those words, Samrat looks at her through the kitchen window, an uncertainty flashing through his eyes.

Mishti doesn't miss it even if she wants to.