Chapter Five
Arya
My boss-turned-mentor invites me for brunch after I reach out about wanting to return to work. I’m full of jitters as the beautiful hostess leads me to her table at the lavish restaurant called Golden Elm—a popular hotspot for casual business meetings.
Radha Sharma looks up from her drink when she senses us approaching. A spellbinding smile tugs her lips up.
I take it as a good sign, pushing my nerves down.
I’m well-groomed in keeping my emotions concealed. It’s a must for my job as a publicist. I need to be the perfect picture of calm and composed in the midst of the chaos around me. My training will come in handy today.
“Hello, Radha,” I greet as the hostess pulls out my chair.
After I thank her, she asks, “Can I get you a drink?”
“Just water, please.”
With a polite nod, the hostess leaves.
“How have you been, Arya?” Radha softly asks. Sympathy shines in my boss’s eyes as she rests her palm over mine. “I’m deeply sorry about what happened.”
I’m realizing no matter how much I prepare myself, the reminder still stings. It brings forth the flashbacks of an empty altar, ashamed ex-in-laws, and unsympathetic parents. If it weren’t for my friends, I wouldn’t have made it out without more emotional scars than I already have.
I haven’t seen them since their last visit, but it was the kick I needed to get my life back on track. I need to focus on the other important aspects of my life that bring peace.
My work is at the top of the list.
Heartbreak by Aryan will not sidetrack me from my ambitions. I’m ready to give it my all like I never have.
Except it all depends on whether or not I still have a job.
“Thank you. I’m holding up as well as I can under the circumstances,” I reply honestly.
“You will get through this.”
So everybody says. “Coming back to work will help me accomplish it sooner.”
“You disappeared for months, Arya,” she comments, leaning back. “People’s careers make or break in such a long period of time.”
“I know.” My spine straightens to look more confident.
Radha is easy and friendly on the surface, but she’s as sharklike as they come. I’ve watched her handle the worst type of clients like a pro. Once I learned about her reputation after joining the PR firm she cofounded with her husband, I made sure I got under her wing.
Have I bungled all my hard work? I pray I haven’t because I can’t handle another loss. I haven’t even gotten over the last.
My job is my lifeline.
A ray of sunlight in the midst of darkness.
“As much as I sympathize with your situation, I couldn’t put you above my clients. So, unfortunately, I’ve had to reassign them to someone else. At the end of the day, I’m running a business and my firm will always be my priority.”
I hide my trembling hands underneath the table. “But I still have a job?”
“Yes, you do. I’ve come to care for you because I love your passion.
And how you go above and beyond for the clients.
” Sharpening her voice, she warns, “This is your first and last strike. I won’t save your position a second time.
I expect you to be back at the office tomorrow.
It’s not going to be easy and it’ll be a while before we assign you a client. You’ll work with Chetna until then.”
“I understand. You won’t regret this decision,” I promise, relieved beyond words.
“You have so much potential, Arya. But you need to learn to separate your professional and personal life. As much as everyone loves to preach about work-life balance, the cold, hard fact is that it comes later once you’ve established yourself. Even then, it’s extremely tough.”
They’re one and the same for me now. “I’m glad to be back and can’t wait for tomorrow.”
“Good.” She grins, back to being friendly. “Now, I have to run. Stay and have lunch. It’s on me.”
I decide to take up on the offer and celebrate the small win alone. My goal was to earn my job back and I did it. It won’t be long before I have my own client. There’s always someone influential needing a publicist. My firm is the first choice.
While I wait for my food and drink, I stand up to find the restroom. Grabbing my purse, I walk to the back hallway behind the bar. I saw the restroom sign when I came in.
Inside, I walk into one of the stalls, do my business, and walk to the shiny marble vanity. Studying my reflection while washing my hands, I notice the bags underneath my eyes under the stark white light. Not even my high-coverage concealer could fix it.
My shoulder-length hair has lost its shine, the dark brown streaks looking dull. My brown eyes are lifeless. I tilt my lips in a smile.
It makes me appear sadder, if possible.
Like I’m faking it.
“Ugh,” I sigh, ripping my gaze away before tears can burn my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself, “I will get through this.”
Everyone has been repeating it to me. There better be some goddamn truth to it.
Drying my hands with the tissue paper, I throw it in the bin and smooth a hand down my loose silk pants that I paired with a strappy blouse. A casual yet formal outfit.
My heels clap on the floor as I walk back into the buzzing room.
I casually scan the tables, for a second forgetting where mine is, when I see him.
Laughing with an arm thrown around another woman.
He’s too far for me to hear the sound, but I don’t have to be near because the countless memories play it loudly in my head.
My gait falters, freezing me in the middle of the room.
Aryan is back?
The chatter around me gets sucked into a void as my pulse pounds in my ears. He looks so… happy. Carefree. High on life.
Like he didn’t abandon his eight-year-long girlfriend at the altar.
Run, Arya. Run.
Before he sees you.
Because my streak of bad luck hasn’t ended, his head swivels in my direction, finding me at once. His mouth parts in shock and he freezes too.
The damn tears I was keeping at bay sting the backs of my eyes.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He doesn’t get to humiliate me yet again.
I take a step back, ready to hide in the restroom.
He abruptly stands.
No way. We’re not having a confrontation on his terms. Definitely not when I don’t have my bearings. Or in a room full of people to witness my breakdown.
I’m about to turn back around when a flash of a very familiar, tall and lean yet muscular frame steals my focus.
Nathan saunters into the dining area, his attention on his phone.
Without thinking twice, I switch directions and stalk toward him. It’s pure anxiety and survival instinct ruling my body.
It’s been over a week since the scary, followed by an embarrassing incident with Nathan. God, please let him remember who I am.
I’m panting, or maybe my heart is thundering, when I cut into his path.
He stops a second before we can collide. Those gray eyes, so much lighter and mesmerizing in the daylight, drag up my legs to my flushed face.
I lose the breath I was holding as recognition sparks on his devastatingly handsome face, clean-shaven this time.
“Arya.”
“Be my date.”
“Excuse me?”
I sense Aryan hot on my heels.
The frown on Nathan’s forehead deepens as he pockets his phone. Pressing a hand to his solid chest, I whisper, “Pretend to be my date.”
His eyes flare in shock.
“Please.” I lick my dry lips. “M-my ex is right behind me.”
His gaze flicks over my shoulder just as Aryan’s voice interrupts us.
“Arya, wait!”
My shoulders slump as I try to gather my wits, the air in my lungs constricting. Out of options, I drop my hand from Nathan’s to turn around and face my ex.
Before I can move an inch, an arm circles my back, pulling me closer to the warm cocoon of a hard torso. I hear Nathan speak above me.
“You are?” His velvety voice is formal with a hint of arrogance.
“I’m her fiancé!” sputters Aryan. “Who are you?”
I tense in fury.
How dare he call himself my fiancé?
“I’m the man who’s going to make her forget your cowardly existence.”
My gasp is shadowed by my ex-fiancé’s outrage behind me.
Shivers break out on my spine as Nathan’s hand trails down to just above the curve of my ass and rests there possessively. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m going to feed my beautiful date.”
“Come on, Arya,” Aryan says. “Hear me out.”
Panic sets in as I dig my fingers into Nathan’s sides. With his free hand, he tilts my face with the tip of his index finger under my chin. My breath leaves in a rush as he pushes my hair away from my eyes with the back of his knuckle.
“Do you want to?” he asks.
I know he’s putting on a show, but my body’s reaction to his gentle touch is natural and of its own free will. The hypnotic look in my eyes is all because of his spicy cologne.
“No,” I rasp.
Shifting his hand to the back of my neck, he answers Aryan. “You heard her. She isn’t interested in your explanations.”
The hand on my hip lowers and laces our fingers together to guide me past a red-faced Aryan standing with his fists clenched.
We’re halfway down the row of tables when Nathan pauses to turn around once more. “Oh, one more thing.”
Aryan scowls up at him.
“Since you seem to be suffering from short-term memory loss, you’re her ex-fiancé. May want to tattoo it down somewhere or practice in front of the mirror.”
I’m hyperaware of other patrons keenly listening in on us, eager for the drama to unfold.
Without sparing my mortified ex another glance, Nathan resumes walking. I’m confused, still speechless, when we stride past all the tables to a secluded hallway. I open my mouth to ask where we’re going when we stop in front of another host stand.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Singhania,” greets the uniformed man. “Your table is ready.”
The host opens the door next to him.
Nathan leads me inside, my hand still locked with his.
It’s another dining area with a smaller number of tables. I gape at the interior with high, arched ceilings and abstract paintings decorating the beige walls. Unlike outside, there’s no acoustic music playing in here. Just a low hush of muted conversations.
As soon as the door closes behind us, Nathan drops my hand like a bucket of cold water. My fingers flex, missing the shape and warmth of his.
It’s disconcerting how effortlessly he switches from protective to cold.
Flirtatious to indifferent.
From a tender gentleman to a stranger.
“Thank you for what you did back there,” I tell him, finally finding my voice. “I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that. I didn’t know he was going to be here. It caught me off guard. Anyway, I’ll… uh, I’ll let you be.”
“He’ll be waiting for you if you walk outside right now.”
I stop mid-step, gazing up at him in panic.
“You can join me,” he offers, inclining his head.
“I don’t want to intrude.” It suddenly hits me that he’s probably here to meet someone and I rudely interrupted his plans. “Oh gosh! You must be having company. Did I make you late or something?”
“Relax.” His eyes turn warm. “I was here for a quick lunch alone.”
“Oh.”
“Come on.”
I follow him to his table. He pulls out my chair like we’re on an actual date.
Anaya’s naughty voice telling me to fuck Nathan perks up in my head, making my cheeks heat. Especially the part where she implied he’ll have a magnificent cock and will know how to bring a woman to orgasm.
As he rounds to his side across from me, I discreetly run my gaze over his sculpted frame encased in a dark blue three-piece suit. His long, elegant fingers unbutton his suit jacket before he takes his seat.
Everything about him is polished and refined, exuding confidence and perfection. Except for that one rebellious strand that falls onto his broad forehead.
His gold Rolex watch sparkles as he reaches for the glass of water. “Were you here with someone?”
I rip my eyes from his full lips touching the rim of the glass, replying, “Yeah. I came to meet my boss.”
“The usual for you, sir?” the waiter interrupts.
“Yes.” Fixing those intense eyes on me, he asks, “What would you like to have?”
“I already ordered.”
“Have it brought here,” he orders the waiter, who leaves after I tell him where I was sitting earlier.
“Back there,” he drawls once it’s just us. “You looked half a second away from a panic attack. Was the breakup ugly? He didn’t want to leave you?”
A hollow laugh bubbles up inside my throat. “He left me at the altar.”