Chapter 16
Sixteen
RAASHI
She sank into the seat behind her. They weren’t going to Kodela House? Some of the tension bracketing her shoulders eased at the thought of not having to face the press. A temporary reprieve, but she’d take anything she got.
She stared out of the window at the brightly lit storefronts that flashed by. Traffic was manic this time of night and their little cocoon of air-conditioned comfort felt perfect after the manic few days that had just passed. She was grateful for it, for not having to be ‘on’ for the public eye all the time. She had no idea how her sister did it. But she supposed love made people do weird things. She should know…
“Thinking deep thoughts there, Rash.”
Harsh’s gravelly baritone broke through her dangerous mental meanderings.
“What would you know about deep, Satan?” she snapped automatically, her little mental detour leaving her more shaken than she’d expected. “You have the emotional depth of a puddle.”
She saw it. The split second of hurt he masked before he smirked, his lips turning up in that derisive sneer that was detestably familiar.
“People do love splashing in puddles,” he drawled.
“I-“ she began, meaning to apologise but the car drew to a stop in a tiny, dark lane. The largish house they’d stopped in front of looked old and vacant. No lights were on inside the large bay windows and the curtains looked to be drawn.
“Let’s go,” Harsh said, getting out of the car.
“Umm.” Raashi stepped out on her side a lot more hesitantly. Her foot landed on the edge of a pothole and her ankle twisted slightly. “Shit!” she swore.
“Are you okay?” Harsh was by her side in an instant. He grabbed her flailing hand and held her upright.
She winced, straightening with his support and glancing at the abandoned house again. “Did you bring me here to kill me?” she asked, her doubts about the dodgy venue amplifying
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now, stop throwing me off schedule. Let’s get inside. Chop chop.”
“Chop chop?” Raashi laughed, a ridiculous fit of giggles taking over. Giggles! She never giggled!
“Look, dismemberment takes time,” Harsh informed her solemnly. “And I need to get the torture out of the way first.”
“So, chop chop so you can start chopping on time?”
He gave her a droll look. “Stop now Rash. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
The front door swung open and they stepped into an alternate universe. Soft, lush carpeting lined the floors and she found her grimy sneakers melting into them. A man in a suit materialized out of nowhere making her yelp in fright. He was tall and thin and rather pale. All he needed was a set of fangs to complete his ensemble. Hyderabadi Dracula at your service.
“Good evening Sir. A table for two?”
Harsh nodded. “How’s life been Murthy?”
“Well Sir, very well.” Spooky Butler smiled. Raashi needed to suppress a shudder at the sight of those pointy, blindingly white teeth.
“What is this place?” she asked Harsh in a hushed whisper as they followed the butler type person down the small corridor.
“Somewhere private to hang out where the press and the public can’t hassle you.” He gestured to her to precede him through the door at the end of the corridor. Raashi stepped through it and into a simple, yet luxurious dining set up. It managed to have casual bean bags and couches while still having a few tables with straight-backed chairs for the more discerning diners.
“A restaurant.” She was absolutely stunned. How had she never heard of this place? Surely, her brother knew about it? Or Veda and Agastya?
“No, none of them come here,” he answered her unasked question, leading them to a couch and bean bag set up. “It isn’t even on their radar. It’s not proper enough.”
The last of the tension she hadn’t even known was living inside her receded. He’d found a spot where the combined weight of their families couldn’t find them. This was their Bermuda Triangle! Raashi threw herself into a bean bag, heaving a huge sigh of relief.
“Can we live here? Forever?”
Harsh laughed, a dry chuckle that she felt in her bones. “That may be pushing it, but we can certainly stay here for some time.”
Spooky Butler glided up to their table. Raashi wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t Count Dracula and this wasn’t the Hyderabadi version of Transylvannia.
“Something to drink? Eat perhaps?” Count Murthy asked.
Harsh looked at her and she sat up. “Can I see the menu?”
“Don’t be absurd, Rash. There’s no menu.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And how am I supposed to know what to order then?”
Harsh stretched his arms over his head as he reclined in a bean bag across from her. She expected his shirt to shred itself at any moment. “Just tell him what you want.”
“Anything I want?” Both her eyebrows had shot up now.
“Anything,” Harsh confirmed, glancing around and lifting his hand to wave at someone across the room. She noted that the other person didn’t bother to come over and interact beyond waving back. This place was her own, personal version of heaven.
“Anything at all?”
“Yes Madam,” Count Murthy intervened. “Anything at all. The chef will make it for you.”
Her stomach rumbled at the thought. “Okay then.” Raashi took a deep breath. “Chicken 65, pork baos, teriyaki mushrooms, mutton dum biryani and strawberry cheesecake.”
Harsh’s gaze shot back to her. “Hungry much?”
“You can share,” she shrugged. “A little.”
“I’ll have the quinoa and goat cheese salad,” he told the butler. “And everything else for her.”
The other man cleared his throat and asked, “Anything to drink Sir?”
Harsh looked at Raashi who shook her head. “Just a vodka for me. Neat.”
Raashi scanned the room and the few inhabitants scattered around the largish hall. “So, this is some kind of secret society? A cult? A secret handshake kinda deal?”
Harsh barked a laugh. “Hardly. It’s a restaurant owned by someone who understands the need for privacy.”
“How come the families don’t know of it?” She was fascinated by the idea of a place where no one could find her. No one she knew that was.
“They keep their client list short and exclusive. The people who come know better than to broadcast it.” Harsh shrugged. “It runs opposite to their need for privacy and space.”
It was marvelous. She took in the minimalist décor and the dim lighting. Everything was aimed towards offering comfort, seclusion, and the absolute joy of non-discovery.
“How did you hear of this place?” she asked Harsh. When she looked at him it was to realise he was watching her. Very closely. She flushed slightly under that steady scrutiny.
“My friend owns it.” He pulled out a squashed pack of cigarettes from the front of his jeans and tapped one out. He held out the box to her, but she shook her head.
“No bad habits, Rash?” he asked, grinning around the cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth.
“I do have the drinking and talking rubbish problem,” she offered, like a delinquent giving in to peer pressure.
Harsh laughed, blowing a perfect smoke ring into the air. It was a good laugh, a wonderful laugh even. It made her feel warm and squishy inside. Very little made her feel warm and squishy.
“We all have that problem, Rash. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“You know, Kodela,” she said. “You’re not all bad.”
He smiled. The warm and squishy feeling inside her turned slightly molten. “You’re not all bad either, Rash.”