No Strings Attached

one

💋💄   chapter one . . .

one of the benefits of dating a top-grade industrialist's son was dining at a posh roof-top restaurant on a date night.

ananya was sipping on her glass of champagne, sitting across from her boyfriend, kabir.

swirling the champagne in it's flute, she wondered if she put on her bra on the third hook instead of the second, because it was starting to feel a little tight around her chest . . . or maybe it the dress. she couldn't tell. ugh, she shouldn't have gone for this strapless bra.

or maybe she wouldn't have to entertain such idle thoughts if kabir wasn't on his phone all the damn time.

all. the. damn. time.

when they were on a date night, or on movie nights, or when they were having a coffee together at some café or—hell, he'd even roll to his side and check his phone right after having sex with her. uhm, hello? what the hell happened to aftercare?

"it's work, baby. you know how much i have to deal with," kabir would say anytime she asked him about it.

she'd taken over an hour to get ready for this day. over an hour. let that sink in. and all she got from kabir was a nod in her direction. not a compliment, not even a fucking smile. a nod. what the fuck was that supposed to mean? she didn't get into this split slip dress for nothing.

"can i take your order, sir?" the waiter came to their table, and kabir looked up once from his goddamn phone to check the menu. he looked a bit more nervous than usual.

"what do you want, baby?" kabir asked her, skimming through the menu.

"uh, pasta?" ananya offered.

pasta? fuck it. she just wanted to go home and get out of this dress.

"two pasta al pomodoro, please. in napolitana sauce, please." kabir said to the waiter, handing the menu back to him. "and a refill, thank you." he gestured at his empty champagne flute.

ananya raised a brow. that sounded really fancy.

"sure, sir." the waiter said, before leaving.

kabir fixed the collar of his shirt, before going back to his phone, much to ananya's frustration.

"so . . ." she began, because if she wanted to have a conversation with him, she'd have to start it too, "how'd you like my dress?" she asked.

one thing you should know about her is that ananya loved getting compliments!

"hold on, i'm finishing up with an email." he answered.

seriously? it was basically a 'yes' or 'no' question! why the hell he needed to finish answering his fucking email to give her a 'yes' or 'no', huh? and also, kabir was using his phone a lot more than he usually did on a date night.

still, she leaned back against her chair, her arms crossed. sometimes, she thought she was too patient with him.

in around two minutes, kabir kept his phone down. the waiter had come and refilled his champagne flute. he took a sip, before fixing the collar of his shirt again.

okay . . . now, ananya would be lying if she said that what he did just now didn't make her nervous. because that was kabir's nervous habit. he'd fix the collar of his shirt occasionally when he was too anxious about something. and he'd already done it twice in the past few minutes. should she be worried?