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I'm finally home after what feels like the longest day ever. The meeting went alright, I guess.
After a quick freshen-up session, I slipped into my comfy PJs and plopped down in front of the TV. But then it hit me-I was craving dosas like nobody's business. So here I am, standing in the kitchen, whipping up some dosas for dinner.
There's something therapeutic about cooking, especially when it's something you love. And right now, I'm all about those crispy, savory dosas. Plus, the smell wafting through the apartment? Pure heaven.
I flipped the dosa on the skillet, the aroma of the sizzling batter filling the kitchen. I glanced at my phone as it started to ring. As soon as I saw Omkara's name flashing on my phone screen, a grin spread across my face. He was always good at brightening my day.
"Hey, O!" I greeted, flipping another dosa as I balanced the phone between my shoulder and ear.
"Hey, Evie! How's my favorite sister doing?" Omkara's cheerful voice rang through the phone.
"I'm your only sister!", I teased, rolling my eyes playfully. Even though he couldn't see it, he could definitely hear the eye roll in my voice. "But I'm doing great, just whipping up some dosas for dinner. What's up with you?"
"Touché," he chuckled. "Nothing much, just drowning in assignments and trying not to lose my mind."
As I carried the plate of dosas to the couch, I couldn't help but remember our dad, miles away in another country. Setting the plate down on the coffee table, I settled onto the cushions, phone still pressed to my ear.
"Did you talk to pappa today?" I asked, my tone gentle yet concerned. "You know how he gets when we don't check in on him."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Omkara responded. "Uh, not yet. But I'll give him a call after we hang up, promise."
"Good," I replied, a hint of relief in my voice. "He's been feeling a bit lonely lately, so it's important to check in on him regularly."
"Don't worry, I've got it covered," Omkara assured me, his voice tinged with sincerity.
We chatted about everything and nothing-how his classes were going, whether he'd finally beaten his high score on that stupid game he's obsessed with, teased him a bit about his new girlfriend and how my day had been.
Of course, I had to vent about the pain-in-the-butt client I'm dealing with right now. And what does he say? "Evie, you can handle anything! You're like Wonder Woman with better hair."
I rolled my eyes, but deep down, it warmed my heart to know he believed in me so fiercely. Siblings, man. They always know just what to say to make you feel like you can conquer the world.
After hanging up the call and finishing up my dinner, I leaned back against the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh as I turned my attention to Cassie.
"You know what's been driving me crazy lately, Cassie?" I began, my voice tinged with irritation. "Mr. Icicle. That's what."
I shook my head, a scowl forming on my lips as I thought about my enigmatic client. "I swear, I can't figure out what that guy is thinking for the life of me. His expressions are always the same-neutral, unreadable. It's like talking to a brick wall."
"I mean, seriously," I continued, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "That guy really knows how to get under my skin."
I groaned and flopped back against the couch cushions, "And you know what the worst part is, Cassie?" I muttered, glancing over at my spiky green companion. "He's got this stupidly gorgeous face that just makes it even harder to ignore him. I mean, seriously, assholes like him shouldn't be allowed to have faces like that. It's unfair. It should be illegal."
I shook my head, running a hand through my hair in exasperation. "But nope, there he is, waltzing around with that perfect jawline and those piercing eyes, driving me absolutely insane."
I let out a frustrated sigh, knowing deep down that Mr. Icicle had gotten exactly what he wanted- getting under my skin. And damn, did he know how to do it well. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he affects me. I have bigger things to worry about, like figuring out how to deal with his icy demeanor without losing my cool.
******
I locked the door behind me, ready to face the day, my phone buzzed with a call from Emily. She dove straight into business mode, yammering on about some marketing strategy for our wedding planning gig. Networking at this nightclub? Sure, why not? Sounds like a wild ride, but hey, anything to snag more clients, right?
After hanging up, I hailed a cab to reach Hira Luxe Manor instead of braving the subway. Who wants to be late and be the target of Mr. High-and-mighty's wrath? Not this girl. Despite having met the guy just yesterday, I have this inkling he's one big ball of anger wrapped in expensive designer threads. I slid into the backseat, mentally prepping myself for whatever chaos the day had in store. Wedding bells and Nightclub, here I come!
******
I arrive at Hira Luxe Manor, there he is, Mr. Suit-and-Tie himself, already waiting. Seriously, do rich people have a closet just for suits?
Checking my watch, I breathe a sigh of relief - not late for once.
"Hey there," I greet him with a nod.
"Not bad, Princess, you're on time today," he comments dryly.
Princess? Is that a jab or a compliment? Eh, I'll take it as a compliment. Maybe I do radiate some princess vibes after all.
"Where's this nightclub?" I inquire, eager to get this show on the road.
"A few blocks away. I'm driving," he replies casually, already heading towards his car.
Guess I'm hitching a ride with
Mr. Fancy-Pants. Here's to hoping this doesn't end in disaster.
Of course, he drives an expensive AF car. It's hot - I mean, the car, not him... though he's not exactly hard on the eyes either. Shush, Evara, focus.
Settling into the luxurious leather seat of his sleek black Ferrari, I can't help but admire the car's sheer beauty.
He's driving, all focused on the road, but I can't peel my eyes off his hands. They're massive like a whole other level of sexy, one hand steady on the wheel, his fingers curled around it. I sneak a peek at my own puny hands, feeling like a tiny speck next to him. Get it together, Evara, stop ogling.
I force myself to glance around, but my gaze lands back on him like a freaking magnet. That serious face, sharp jawline, and that neck... oh boy. I gulp, feeling the heat rise under my skin. Pull yourself together, girl. We don't like him he called us "unprofessional".
But damn, that woodsy, masculine scent swirling around him is making it hard to think straight.
Mental slap, Evara, wake up!
"So, not much of a talker, huh?" I finally manage to say, trying to keep it cool despite feeling like I'm about to spontaneously combust. Gotta keep it light, even if I'm practically on fire over here.
It's getting hard to breathe in here, with the tension thick enough to cut through.
I hate how ridiculously attractive he is, especially since he's such an ass. I don't want to notice anything about him, but hey, I'm just a girl.
It's like the universe decided to play a cruel joke on me, giving me a front-row seat to this infuriatingly gorgeous sight.
Worst part? He hates me. I just know it.
He turns to me and just says "No," leaving me hanging with no clue how to keep this conversation afloat. Seriously, how am I supposed to work with that? He's like a walking vault, all closed off and annoyingly uncooperative. But hey, I can't just blurt out that he's annoying, can I? Unfortunately, he's kind of important.
"It's okay, we can work on that," I say with a forced cheerfulness, trying to salvage this sinking ship.
I decide to switch gears. "So, I know you're a doctor, but what kind of...?" I trail off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.
"Cardiothoracic surgeon," he responds calmly, as if he's used to people being clueless about what he does.
Hmm, interesting. "And you own a nightclub?" I blurt out, curiosity getting the best of me.
"Yes," he answers simply, leaving me hanging once again.
"Out of curiosity, why is part of your last name brown coded?" I ask, hoping to pry a bit more information out of him.
"I'm Half Indian Half American. Oberoi is my Mom's maiden name," he explains.
"Oh, that makes sense now," I reply with a grin, the pieces falling into place.
He nods, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.
"We're here," he announces as he pulls into the basement parking.
I scramble to keep up with his long strides as we walk towards the building. Seriously, does this guy ever slow down? His legs are like a gazelle's compared to mine, and I'm practically sprinting to keep pace.
I mutter under my breath, cursing his lack of consideration. Does he even realize I'm back here? Probably not. But hey, at least I'm getting a workout in trying to keep up with Mr. Speedy over here.
******
Wait a damn minute... This is The Vein, I realize with a jolt. I haven't been here in ages. And this guy owns this place? Wow, talk about fate.
As we're walking, someone approaches him. Oh great, it's that bouncer guy who didn't let me in last time. I can feel my eyebrows knitting together in a frown. The bouncer guy looks at me, and I can't help but blurt out, "I'm wearing Jeans!"
He looks confused, about to say something, but Mr. Icicle shuts him down with a simple, "She's working."
He looks at me with a quizzical expression, a silent question in his eyes that says, "Why did you just say that?"
I quickly explain, feeling the need to justify myself. "Oh, umm, I was just letting him know I'm in bar clothes, he threw a tantrum last time."
He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. I can tell he's not impressed with my impromptu explanation, at least I tried. And who knows, maybe now the bouncer guy will think twice before giving me a hard time again.