CHAPTER 10
SIYA
Same Morning
I wake up to the shrill ring of the phone in my cottage suite. At first, I don’t move, wanting to sleep a little longer, but the persistent ringing forces me to reach for it.
I pick up the receiver and speak, my voice still thick with sleep. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Ma’am. This is Esha, the resort manager.”
I take a few seconds to register the name before pressing the phone properly to my ear.
“This is just to inform you that the vineyard tour will be starting sharp at ten today. We would like you to come down to the lobby so we can begin with the other guests.”
I blink, trying to process what she just said. “Vineyard tour?” My brows draw together in confusion. “Why would I come to the lobby? I haven’t booked any tour.”
There’s a small pause on the other end, followed by the sound of Esha clearing her throat. “I know, Ma’am, but today’s tour is quite special. Since you’re one of our valued guests, we thought you might enjoy being a part of it. We assure you it will be… exciting.”
“I’m not interested,” I reply after a beat, still trying to make sense of it. “Not today. That’s fine.”
Before she can say anything else, I disconnect the call, turn onto my side, and pull the blanket more snugly around me. I have barely closed my eyes when the phone rings again.
My eyes fly open. I stare at it for a second before answering, my patience already thinning. “Hello?”
“Ma’am…” It’s Esha again, but a little quicker this time, as if she doesn’t want to give me a chance to hang up.
“The vineyard tour today includes a few exclusive experiences for you. We’ve even arranged horse riding, if you’re interested.
It’s not something we usually offer, but since you are a special guest, we wanted to extend it to you. ”
I sit up now as irritation replaces whatever sleep was left. “Esha, what is wrong with you? Is this how you treat a special guest? By calling repeatedly and pushing for things I’ve already refused?”
She goes quiet.
“I said I’m not interested,” I add, stressing each word. “So please stop calling me about this.”
I hang up without waiting for her reply this time.
What kind of service is this? I haven’t booked anything, yet they’re pushing this tour on me like it’s already decided. This isn’t normal. No resort goes out of its way like this unless there’s a reason.
The phone rings a third time and a humourless smile tugs at my lips before I pick it up. “What now, Esha?” I’m barely holding on to my patience.
There’s a brief hesitation before she speaks, her tone softer now, more careful.
“Ma’am… I’m really sorry to disturb you again.
But if you don’t want to go on the vineyard tour or horse riding, we also have a private cellar tasting arranged today.
It includes access to our reserve collection, guided wine blending, and a behind-the-scenes tour of the production unit.
It’s not open to other guests, but we can arrange it for you if you’d prefer something more experiential. ”
I let out a slow breath and press my fingers to my temple. Now I’m positive this isn’t hospitality. This feels deliberate and calculated. “Okay, Esha,” I snap, feeling a bit angry now. “What’s going on?”
She doesn’t respond.
“I’ve never seen someone so determined to make me sign up for something,” I continue. “So you can either tell me exactly why you’re doing this… or I take this up with whoever you report to. Your choice.”
There’s a longer silence this time.
“Ma’am, I’m really sorry,” she finally says. Her voice is quieter now, almost defeated. “This is not in my hands. I was just… following instructions.”
My grip tightens slightly around the receiver. “Whose instructions?”
She hesitates, as if she knows this is where she shouldn’t cross the line. But she says it anyway. “Raghav Sir’s.”
For a second, I say nothing.
Raghav?
Why would he do this? Why go out of his way to push me into something I clearly don’t want?
Without responding to Esha, I simply disconnect the call.
My sleep is ruined now. I sit there for a moment, staring ahead, replaying the calls in my head.
I can hear the hesitation in Esha’s voice and the way she kept trying to redirect me back to that tour.
Raghav is definitely up to something. But what? A part of me wants to ignore it, to let it go. To stay right here and not give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But that’s not how I work. If he’s involving me in something, I need to know why.
I swing my legs off the bed in determination. “Fine, RK,” I murmur under my breath. “If you want me involved in your plans, then I’m going to find out exactly what those plans are.”
With that, I get up and head straight to the shower. Because whatever this is, I’m not letting it go until I know exactly what Raghav wants.
****************
After the shower, I step out of my cottage and head straight to the indoor restaurant for breakfast, though I barely taste any of the food. For the past hour, I’ve been trying to meet the man responsible for my irritable mood today. But each time I ask for him, the answer is the same.
“He is busy, Ma’am.” Esha says this politely, using that same careful tone she had on the phone earlier. But it does nothing to ease the irritation building inside me.
Busy? I don’t believe that for a second. And I’m not reading this wrong. Raghav wanted me to be occupied today. To be kept away. That’s why he was trying to distract me with those vineyard tours and curated experiences I never asked for. Now I need to know why.
I step out onto the lawn just outside the lobby. The sun is still mild, and the air carries that faint scent of earth and grapes. My eyes take in the surroundings without trying too hard. And then I see him.
He’s standing a short distance away, talking to a man who appears to be one of the tour guides.
He’s dressed in a white polo neck T-shirt beneath a black jacket.
There is nothing loud about him, nothing that tries to draw attention.
And yet, I can’t look away. My gaze is drawn to the faint glimmer of gold against the white of his T-shirt.
The pendant. The one I fixed onto his chain yesterday.
I recall the way I leaned closer, and the way he went completely still, barely breathing. I would have never gotten that close to him, but the moment he told me it belonged to his late mother, something in me melted. And when I saw him struggling with it, I couldn’t resist fixing it back for him.
Now, seeing it resting exactly where it belongs, I feel oddly satisfied.
My gaze lingers on him a moment longer than it should before my feet move in his direction.
But just as I get closer, he lifts his gaze and meets mine.
The moment he knows I’m coming, he quickly turns away.
He says something to the man beside him and starts walking away with him, continuing the discussion and totally ignoring me.
Urgh! Why is he running away from this conversation? This is so not him. From what I have seen, Raghav does not avoid things. He confronts them directly without wasting time.
And yet, here he is, making sure I don’t get a moment alone with him. And then they say women are complicated. Whoever stated that clearly never had the misfortune of dealing with Raghav Khurana… or Kundra… whatever!
Instead of chasing him again, I turn away and head towards the bigger lawn outside the lobby.
Suddenly, a small movement catches my attention.
A child, probably around ten years old, is trying to angle his phone just right for a selfie.
In his enthusiasm, he turns a little too quickly and bumps into an older gentleman standing nearby.
The man stumbles slightly but manages to steady himself just in time.
However, his phone slips from his hand and hits the ground.
The child freezes for a second before bolting away, wailing for his mom. I move without thinking. By the time the man bends down to retrieve his phone, I’m already there, picking it up and handing it back to him.
“Here,” I say, smiling.
“Thank you,” he says, returning my smile as he takes the phone from me.
He presses the button and tries to switch it on, but nothing happens. I watch him try again, to no avail. Instinctively, I reach out to him and ask, “May I?”
He hands it over without hesitation. I press the button and hold it a little longer this time, but still nothing.
“It’s not switching on,” I murmur, glancing back at him regretfully.
“Oh,” he sighs, clearly disappointed. “My son gifted this to me last year on my birthday,” he says, almost fondly. “Looks like it decided to give up today.”
I look at the phone for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “You can replace a phone. I’m just glad nothing happened to you. And anyway, that kid wasn’t at fault either. He was just… too caught up trying to get the perfect angle for his selfie.”
For a second, he simply looks at me. Then a slow smile spreads across his face.
“I’m amazed,” he says. “These days, people are more worried about their phones breaking than about getting hurt themselves. Even if they fall, it’s fine… as long as the device is safe.” He shakes his head slightly, watching me. “And here I am, meeting someone who values a person more than a phone.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Well, I may belong to this generation,” I admit, “but my thoughts are still a little old school. And I like it that way.”
His smile deepens.
“Although…” I glance at the phone in his hand, “I do feel bad for your phone. I hope it turns on.”
“Don’t worry,” he replies easily. “I will get it repaired.”
There’s something about him that feels so calm and grounding.
“I’m Kailash Shergill,” he adds after a moment and extends his hand for a handshake.
“Siya Vardhaan.” I shake his hand.
He studies me briefly. “That’s a beautiful name, Siya. Are you a guest here?” he asks. “Did you come with your family?”
I let out a small sigh. “No, I’m alone here. Just with my guards.”