Chapter 14
The file had been open for two hours.
Abhinav sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled, collar open. Everything sat in place except his focus. The green tea beside his laptop had gone cold.
The numbers were clean. Structured. Useless.
He pushed the file away.
Lakshya, in his courtyard. Standing there with ease. And Meera… embroidered silk, hair braided, laughing. Unfiltered. Easy.
He leaned back, jaw set, then pulled the file toward him again. Forced his eyes over the lines.
Nothing stayed.
When did this start?
The question had followed him through the night, refusing to settle.
He had come here with a purpose. Sell the Haveli. Close the deal. Leave.
Instead, his days had filled with a woman who did not defer, did not soften, did not hesitate to look him in the eye and say, No, Boss.
That had been the beginning.
Everything after had come too easily.
He had started noticing things he had no business noticing. Her voice. Her hazel eyes. The way her hands moved when she spoke. The way she moved through the Haveli like it lived inside her. And the warmth of her skin under his hand, something he hadn’t been able to forget.
He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.
He couldn’t place the moment it had shifted. That was what unsettled him.
He was not a man who lost track of his own decisions. He knew where things began. Where they bent.
This had slipped past him.
He sat there, sleep gone, because Meera Chauhan had laughed at another man’s words. Because for one sharp second, he had wanted that laugh to belong to him.
His fingers tapped once against the armrest. Then stilled.
The tea sat untouched. He picked it up, drank it anyway, and grimaced as the cold bitterness spread across his tongue. The cup met the table with force.
A bell rang from the temple. The sound moved through the Haveli. It reached him. When it faded, the silence that followed felt deeper.
He sat with it. With the fact that he had lost sleep over a woman who was not his. With the fact that the thought of her becoming someone else’s, did not sit.
At all.
His phone rang. He reached for it, then stopped.
Meera.
He watched the screen light up. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Yes,” he answered, his voice rough, stripped of its usual control.
◆◆◆
Meera crossed the courtyard on her way back from the temple. The prayers still echoed in her ears, yet none of it had touched the restlessness that had kept her awake through the night. Her eyes burned, her body moved on habit.
She wore a simple cotton salwar kameez. Her hair fell loose down her back. Nothing like yesterday.
Yesterday had been deliberate. Every detail was set before she had stepped out to meet Lakshya and his family. Even then, her focus had slipped. Not because of the man beside her, but because of the one seated across the courtyard.
She cut the thought off.
Because she was not thinking about the way Abhinav had looked at her. Or how his expression had changed when Lakshya’s hand had settled at her elbow. She was not thinking about the scrape of his chair. The way he had left.
A low hum of an engine cut through her thoughts. She turned.
The guard straightened at once and pointed in her direction.
A black car entered through the main gate, plain at first glance until the crest on its number plate caught the light. Dark windows concealed the inside. It rolled in slowly and came to a stop near her.
Meera stood still.
A man stepped out from the passenger side. Grey safari suit. Leather portfolio in hand. He spotted her and approached. “Good morning. I am Amar Singh, advisor to His Highness Rajveer Singh Sisodia. We are here to meet Mr. Abhinav Kumar Anand.”
‘Rajveer Singh Sisodia.’
The name unsettled her. Meera didn’t let it show.
“And His Highness is…?”
Amar turned slightly. The rear window lowered just enough to reveal a figure inside. A man seated with a presence that filled the space without effort.
“One moment, please.”
She turned, already dialing. Her gaze returned to the half-lowered window. The Sisodias needed no introduction. Their arrival to Anand Mahal could mean… No.
She told herself there could be other reasons.
None came to mind.
“Yes.” Abhinav’s voice came through, rough in a way she had not heard before.
“Boss,” she said, her tone falling into place, “there is a royal entourage at the gate. His Highness Rajveer Singh Sisodia. From Udaipur.”
“Bring them to my office.”
No surprise. No questions.
He knew.
“Ji.”
She ended the call and turned to them, her expression composed. “Boss will see you now. Please follow me.”
The rear door opened.
Rajveer Singh Sisodia stepped out, rising to his full height with ease. More commanding in person. A strong jaw, steady eyes, a face that drew attention without asking for it. His linen kurta bore a thin line of gold at the collar. Understated. Intentional.
He paused, his gaze moving across the Haveli. The stone. The arches. The open spaces.
“Miss Chauhan.” The fact that he knew her name without introduction settled coldly beneath her ribs. “A pleasure to finally see Anand Mahal in person.”
‘Finally?’
“Welcome to Anand Mahal, Kunwar Sa.” She inclined her head. “Please follow me.”
She turned and led the way.
The courtyard parted as they walked. Devotees stepped aside, whispers rising around them as they regarded His Highness. Rajveer acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head.
Meera kept her focus ahead.
Behind her, she felt his attention move across the Haveli.
She told herself it meant nothing. That she could not be sure why he had come.
The thought did not settle.
Her mind moved ahead of her steps. When had Abhinav reached out? What had been discussed? What had already been set into motion?
The questions pressed in.
They reached the office. The door stood closed.
Meera lifted her hand to knock. It stilled for a second before she followed through.
“Come in.” Abhinav’s voice came from inside. Even. Controlled. No trace of what she had heard earlier.
She opened the door.
He sat behind his desk, white shirt crisp, sleeves rolled, expression composed.
“His Highness Rajveer Singh Sisodia,” she stepped aside. “And his advisor, Amar Singh Ji.”
Abhinav’s gaze lifted to hers for a fraction. Something passed there. Gone before it could settle.
“Thank you, Meera.”
Dismissal. Clean. Final.
She stepped out and closed the door. Her hand lingered on the handle before she let it go. She moved to the side, resting against the cool stone wall, out of sight.
Inside, voices began.
She closed her eyes, and listened.
◆◆◆
Abhinav had never met Rajveer Singh Sisodia, yet the name was enough.
In Rajasthan, the Sisodias stood beyond just royalty. They were an institution. Politics, heritage estates, industries that preserved craft across generations. Textiles, silverwork, jewellery, miniature art. Their influence ran through it all.
He rose as they entered, coming around the desk, his hand already extended, his face giving nothing away on the sudden visit. “Your Highness. Welcome.”
Rajveer clasped his hand. The grip was firm, measured. Neither pushing nor giving ground. “Forgive the unannounced visit, Abhinav ji. I arrived in Jaipur today and felt it right to come in person.”
His tone lowered before he continued. “I was very sorry to hear about your father. He was respected. Those who knew him felt his absence.”
Abhinav held his gaze. “You knew him?”
Rajveer tilted his head, the answer measured. “Not personally. But Thakurs hold their place in every circle that matters. Even after he moved to Dubai, Anand Mahal’s work here stood apart. Upliftment is noticed, Abhinav ji. It always is.”
Abhinav nodded. “Thank you. Please, sit.”
Rajveer took the chair across the desk. Amar stayed behind him, portfolio in hand.
“I’ll be direct.” Rajveer leaned forward just enough to show intent. “I heard Anand Mahal might be available. I came to see it myself.”
Abhinav returned to his chair, one hand resting against the desk’s edge. “From whom?”
“From the same circles where news travels faster than paperwork.” A hint of amusement touched Rajveer’s expression. “I chose not to wait.”
A slight curve touched Abhinav’s mouth. “You have come this far. I assume you have a plan.”
Rajveer glanced at Amar. The portfolio was placed on the desk and opened. Pages turned.
He spoke of the Haveli as a heritage, not a transaction. Architecture. Lineage. What it had held. What it will keep holding.
Abhinav didn’t interrupt, didn’t encourage. Just listened.
When the temple came up, Rajveer’s tone softened.
“It will remain active. Public aarti will continue. Rituals maintained by trained priests. There will be structure during peak hours, but access stays open.”
He let that settle.
“We do not take places like this and strip them of what makes them alive. The people, the practices… they are not inconveniences.”
Abhinav heard the conviction. He also knew exactly how those same words would land outside this room. “And the staff?”
“Severance for those who leave. Strong placements for those who stay. Anyone who understands this place is valuable.” His eyes flicked toward the door. “Your estate manager, I hear, knows it well.”
“She does,” Abhinav replied.
“Two hundred crores,” Amar added, turning a page.
The number sat between them.
Abhinav didn’t lean forward, didn’t react.
Rajveer didn’t press. He simply waited.
“I appreciate the proposal,” Abhinav said at last. “It’s thorough.”
“It had to be.”
Abhinav gave a single nod. “I will need a week.”
Amar’s pen paused.
Rajveer inclined his head, accepting without resistance. “A week is fair. The offer stands.”
He rose.
Abhinav followed.
They shook hands again. No agreement yet, but an understanding took shape. This time, Rajveer’s expression held less calculation.
“One more thing,” he added, warmth entering his tone. “When this is settled, whichever direction it takes, I would like to invite you and your family to Udaipur. Stay with us. It would give me the chance to host you properly. You would also see what we build with places and people entrusted to us.”
Abhinav smiled. “That is generous.”
“It is genuine. There is a difference.”
Rajveer turned. Amar moved ahead and opened the door.
Meera stood outside.
Rajveer gave a brief, courteous nod. She returned it, composed, unreadable.
They passed. Their footsteps faded down the corridor.
Abhinav remained where he was.
Meera’s gaze met his.
She had heard enough. He could see it. And what she had in her eyes, it wasn’t anger. It was worse.