The One She Was Warned About. Shoma Narayanan
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carping and complaining if things didn’t go exactly as he’d planned.
‘Talk of the devil...’ Priya said, and made herself scarce as Siddhant came up to join Shweta.
He was good-looking in a conservative kind of way, and right now he was in an excellent mood. Shweta gave him a critical look. He was safe, she decided. That was what had drawn her to him. But safe could be boring sometimes....
‘Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be drinking that muck,’ he said, smiling at Shweta and trying to take her glass away from her. ‘Let me get you a proper drink.’
‘Apple juice is a proper drink,’ Shweta said, stubbornly holding on to her glass. She never drank at office parties—alcohol had the effect of disastrously loosening her tongue. There was a very real risk of her mortally offending a senior partner and finding herself without a job. ‘Look, they’re about to begin,’ she said, pointing at the stage to distract Siddhant.
It was set up on one side of the banquet hall, and designed to look like a giant flatscreen TV. A rather over-enthusiastic ponytailed male MC was bouncing around exhorting people to come and take their places.
‘I’m back,’ Nikhil announced, materialising at her side so suddenly that Shweta jumped.
‘I thought you’d gone off to earn your living,’ she said.
‘Just needed to do a quick check and see that everything’s on track,’ he replied. ‘I have a relatively new team working on this event—good guys, but I thought I should be around in case something goes wrong.’
The team was still very raw, and normally he wouldn’t have left their side for a moment—only he hadn’t been able to keep himself away from Shweta. He tried to figure out why. While she’d metamorphosed into quite a stunner, he met equally good-looking girls every day in his chosen profession. It was the tantalising glimpses he could see of the gawky, independent-minded girl he’d known in school that drew him to her. He’d always liked her, in spite of the unmerciful teasing he’d subjected her to. At fourteen, though, he’d never consciously thought of her as a girl. Now it was impossible not to think of her as a woman, and the change was singularly appealing.
‘You’re not the nagging kind of boss, then?’ Shweta asked.
It sounded as if she approved.
‘You don’t hover over your people telling them what to do and how to do it, when they should have it done...?’
Nikhil laughed. ‘It’s a little difficult to be like that in my business,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of planning involved, but people need the freedom to take spot decisions.’
Siddhant cleared his throat and Shweta realised guiltily that she’d completely forgotten he was standing next to her. Nikhil noticed him as well, giving him a friendly smile as he held out his hand.
‘Nikhil Nair,’ he said.
Siddhant took his hand, sounding almost effusive. ‘Yes, of course. Manish mentioned you’d be here. I’m Siddhant.’
Priya had been right, then—Nikhil had to be loaded. Siddhant was this friendly only with the very successful or the very rich.
‘You’re one of the partners in the firm, aren’t you?’ Nikhil asked with a quick smile. ‘I understand you guys are putting on a performance for the team?’
Oh, God. The firm’s senior partner, Manish, had come up with the brilliant idea of all the partners dancing to a Bollywood number. On stage. Manish himself could dance well, though he was grossly overweight, most of the rest were terrible—and that was putting it mildly. Siddhant wasn’t as bad as some, only he was very stiff and self-conscious. Shweta cringed at the thought of watching him make a fool of himself in public.
‘It’s just something Manish thought would make us seem a little more approachable to the team,’ Siddhant was saying. ‘That becomes a problem sometimes in an industry like ours. By the way—marvellous arrangements this morning. Your team did a fabulous job. The elephants and the Kathakali dancers welcoming everyone...and that flash mob thing at lunchtime was also a fantastic idea.’
The flash mob had been brilliant. Shweta conceded that much. But Siddhant was sounding a little sycophantic. Maybe Manish had asked him to make a pitch to Nikhil. She had only a vague idea of how event management companies operated, and it was unlikely Manish knew more than her—he usually operated on the principle that any company that made money needed accountants.
‘Thank you,’ Nikhil said, clearly amused. ‘Can I borrow Shweta for a minute?’
Siddhant looked a bit taken aback, and Shweta hastened to explain. ‘We were together in school—met again after years today.’ Borrow her, indeed. He made her sound like a library book—and a not very interesting one at that.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Siddhant said. His eyes darted between the two of them as if he was registering for the first time that Nikhil could pose some kind of threat to his slow-paced courtship. ‘But aren’t you staying for the performances? I thought there were some Bollywood stars coming down...’
‘Seen them many times before,’ Nikhil said, a quick smile flashing across his face. ‘I’ll try and be back before you guys go on stage. Wouldn’t want to miss that.’
He slung a casual arm around Shweta’s shoulders as he drew her away and she felt her senses instantly go on high alert. He must have touched her in school, she thought, confused, but she didn’t remember feeling anything like this—what was wrong with her? He’d changed, of course, but how had he turned from the wild tearaway schoolboy she remembered to someone who drove her crazy with longing without even trying—it was totally unfair.
‘Is Siddhant your boss?’ Nikhil asked once they were some distance away. When Shweta shook her head he said, ‘Hmm...something going on between you guys, then? He looked quite possessive for a bit back there.’
‘He’s just a friend,’ Shweta said, but the colour flaring up to her cheeks betrayed her yet again.
Nikhil grinned wickedly. ‘Just a friend, eh? He’s still looking at us. OK if I do this?’ He bent his head and brushed his lips against her cheek. It was a fleeting caress, but Shweta felt her heart-rate triple.
Nikhil stepped back a little and gave her a considering look. ‘Will he come charging up and challenge me to a duel?’ he asked.
She shook her head mutely.
‘OK—what if I do this?’
Shweta swatted his hands away as he brought them up to cup her face. Feeling all hot and bothered, she said, ‘Stop playing the fool, Nikhil!’
He stepped back, raising his hands in laughing surrender. ‘I’ve stopped...I’ve stopped. You’re dangerous when you lose your temper—I don’t want you giving me another scar.’
‘Rubbish!’ she said.
‘Not at all.’ Nikhil pushed his shaggy hair off his forehead with one hand and she saw it—a thin white scar across one temple that stood out against his tanned skin. ‘The last time I annoyed you I ended up with this.’
Shweta remembered it quite vividly. She’d grabbed a wooden blackboard duster off the teacher’s table and thrown it at him. But it still hadn’t wiped the mocking grin off his face. A thin ribbon of blood had trickled down one side of his face and he’d mopped it off with a grimy handkerchief. He’d been laughing all the while. Right, so that was one time she remembered touching him—evidently he hadn’t had the same effect on her then as he did now.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly. In retrospect she was—a few centimetres the other way and she could have blinded him.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he said. ‘From what I remember I was quite an obnoxious little beast—you helped knock some sense into me. And every time I look in the mirror now I think of you....’
He lowered his