CHAPTER 17
KW Capital Ventures – Later that Afternoon
Attending the client call in the conference room, Karan returned to his cabin, but his mind refused to settle.
The moment he shut the door behind him, he loosened his tie with an irritated tug and crossed the room, dropping his phone onto the desk without care.
Whatever happened a while ago in Mishti’s cabin kept flashing before his eyes.
Daksh’s sudden visit here, asking her, without hesitation or shame, to become an insider for him inside KW Capital itself. What the f*ck!
He shoved his chair back instead of sitting. This is exactly what happens when you marry an enemy, a voice inside him snarled. But even as the thought formed, a part of his mind refused to accept it.
Was Mishti really an enemy?
The question irritated him further. He dragged a hand through his hair and began pacing the length of the cabin restlessly.
His anger was justified. Daksh had walked into his territory without permission.
He had dared to approach Mishti with a proposal meant to poison the very foundation of this company.
But what surprised him was Mishti’s one question -
“If you were already spying on me, then why didn’t you make this dramatic entry a few minutes later? Why didn’t you wait to hear what I would have replied to him?”
His steps slowed.
Yes. He should have waited. He should have let the scene play out fully. He should have caught her red-handed if that was her intention, promising her brother loyalty over him. That would have made things easier. He would have had proof and reason enough to act without restraint.
But another thought followed that maybe he would have heard something else entirely. Maybe he would have heard her refuse.
The possibility hit him harder than he liked.
He stopped near the window, staring out at the city below, his reflection faintly visible in the glass.
Despite his allegations, Mishti had not pleaded.
She had not defended herself with tears.
She had looked him in the eye and spoken about loyalty as if it were not something she needed to negotiate.
“I would never cheat on you or this company.”
He clenched his fists.
Damn it.
His anger surged again. He had built his life on control, on certainty, on knowing exactly where people stood. And Mishti disrupted that balance without even trying.
And then there was the dinner she was hosting for his brother and his friend. Although she had invited him too, he would never go. And he would not let her go either.
He turned back to his desk, picked up his phone, and unlocked it. He scrolled once, then tapped a contact he rarely called without reason.
Maria.
Mishti thought she could draw lines with him. Thought she could move freely, make choices without consequences.
Today, he would remind her otherwise.
He did not want to stop her because he distrusted her. He wanted to stop her because the thought of her sitting across a table, laughing easily with two men who admired her so much, bothered him in a way nothing else had.
And that realisation irritated him more than even Daksh ever could.
*****************
Mishti was still in her cabin when her phone rang.
Nearly an hour had passed since Karan had stormed out, leaving behind a silence that had slowly settled into something bearable.
She had gone back to the files laid out before her, which Rajat had asked her to familiarise herself with.
It was slow work, but she was determined not to be careless on her second day.
The name flashing on her phone screen made her pause.
Maria?
Mishti straightened instinctively and answered at once.
“Ma’am,” Maria said politely, “I wanted to inform you that today Karan Sir has given a forced holiday to all the chefs and kitchen staff.”
Mishti blinked, genuinely confused. “Holiday?” she repeated softly. “Alright. It is not an issue. I am anyway going out for dinner tonight. I am not sure if Karan is joining us or if he has other plans.”
There was a small pause on the line before Maria replied. “No, ma’am. Sir does not have any dinner plans outside.”
Mishti frowned slightly. “Okay…”
“In fact, he has asked me to call and inform you that he wants you to cook dinner for him tonight,” Maria continued. “Alone. Without any help.”
For a moment, Mishti did not respond. The words took time to sink in.
He wanted her to cook for him? Her fingers tightened around the phone.
In all these weeks of their marriage, Karan had never once eaten anything she had cooked.
The only exception had been the gajar halwa that Rajat had tricked him into tasting.
So this sudden demand made no sense…unless he wanted to keep her busy tonight. On purpose.
If she were cooking for him, she could not be out having dinner with Rajat and Abhimanyu. If she were in the kitchen, her evening belonged to him. It was not an invitation. It was a planned move.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
Seriously, Karan Wadhwa, she thought. Is this what you have come down to now?
What would it have cost him to simply accept her invitation and join them for dinner? Nothing. But that would have meant sharing space, sharing attention, letting others see her laugh. And that, apparently, was unacceptable for the broody Wadhwa.
“Well,” Mishti said calmly into the phone, “no problem, Maria. I will be home after work, and I will cook dinner for your Karan sir.”
She ended the call without another word.
Just as she lowered the phone, her gaze drifted to the small table lamp on her desk. The same lamp Karan had pointed out earlier, and said it housed a camera and a voice recorder, quietly feeding everything back to him.
She was certain that even now he was watching her. Even listening. The thought did not make her uneasy anymore. If anything, it stirred something stubborn inside her.
She turned slightly so she was facing the lamp and muttered.
“Grow up, Karan,” she said.
Then she turned back to her files and continued reading, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
In Karan’s cabin, the live feed still played on his laptop screen.
He had seen her answer the call. Heard every word.
Watched her expression change, confusion giving way to realisation, and then to that faint, infuriating smile when she looked straight at the camera and spoke those two words ‘Grow up’.
His first instinct was irritation. Who did she think she was talking to like that? And yet the irritation never fully formed. Instead, a weak, fleeting smile that surprised even him curved at the corner of his mouth.
She had understood his move instantly. More than that, she had accepted it without protest. No frustration. No argument. No wounded pride. She had simply agreed to cook for him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Finally, her dinner plans were foiled exactly as he intended. She would not be out with Rajat and Abhimanyu tonight. She would be home. With him.
And if keeping her there meant letting her cook for him for the first time, then so be it.
Karan leaned back in his chair, with his eyes still fixed on the screen. If this was the price of control, he would pay it.
Even if it meant letting her into spaces he had sworn would always remain closed for her.
****************
Night – Wadhwa Mansion
It was well past nightfall when Karan finally stepped into Wadhwa Mansion. The day had drained him. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Maria hurried forward to take his briefcase.
Karan did not acknowledge her immediately. Instead, his gaze moved instinctively toward the kitchen corridor.
She should be there.
That was the whole point, after all. He had let Mishti leave work on time without protest, had ensured the house staff were sent away, had made arrangements that would leave her with no option but to stay back home and cook for him.
Abhimanyu had already left earlier for another meeting, which suited Karan just fine.
He was still scanning the space, listening for the faint sounds of utensils or movement, when Maria cleared her throat gently.
“Sir,” she asked, “shall I serve dinner now?”
Karan nodded, distracted. “Ask Mishti to serve it.”
The words came easily. Possessively.
Maria hesitated for a second
“Sir,” she said again, lowering her voice, “Ma’am is not at home.”
Karan turned sharply toward her. “What do you mean she is not at home?”
The irritation that had been simmering since morning flared instantly.
“She did come home, sir,” Maria explained quickly, sensing the shift in his mood. “She cooked dinner alone, exactly as you asked. Everything. Your favourites. Rajma Chawal and Moong Dal Halwa.”
“And then?” he demanded.
“She finished early,” Maria continued. “After that, Abhimanyu Sir and Ma’am left with Rajat Sir, who had come to pick them up. They left together for dinner.”
Karan’s fingers curled at his sides as he reached instinctively for his phone. One call and he could have her back within minutes. He could remind her exactly that he had asked her to stay home.
But he stopped.
Something held him back. Pride, perhaps. Or the sudden, uncomfortable realisation that she had followed his order to the letter and still managed to walk away on her own terms.
She cooked.
She left.
Without another word, Karan turned and strode toward the staircase.
“Sir,” Maria called after him, unsure, “should I serve the food?”
He paused halfway up the stairs and, without looking back at her, he replied. “I am not hungry anymore.”
His voice echoed through the quiet house as he continued up, not sparing another glance for the dining table that had been laid with care, nor for the meal that waited untouched.
Maria stood there looking at him with sympathy before she gathered herself and returned to the kitchen to clear away the dishes that had been prepared with such intent.
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Hotel Restaurant