Chapter 4
The gentle, rhythmic crashing of ocean waves against the rocky shore woke Shruti from a deep, dreamless sleep.
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the soft morning sunlight filtering through massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
For a brief, disorienting second, she forgot where she was.
She was so used to waking up in rustic hostel beds, budget hotel rooms, or her modest bedroom at her parents' house that the sheer luxury surrounding her felt like a dream.
Shruti sat up in the center of a massive king-sized bed wrapped in crisp, high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.
The primary ocean VIP suite was larger than her entire apartment in Bandra.
It was decorated in minimalist shades of cream, warm beige, and dark oak timber.
Opposite the bed was a private glass balcony offering an uninterrupted, panoramic view of the vast blue Arabian Sea stretching out to the horizon.
A plush velvet sofa, a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and a dedicated executive work desk sat in the corner.
On the desk, a brand-new high-end laptop, encrypted satellite router, and modern camera docking station had already been neatly arranged by Akhil’s IT team, just as he had promised.
Shruti let out a long sigh, running a hand through her messy morning hair.
"Living in a billionaire's fortress," she muttered to herself, throwing off the silky duvet. "Not exactly how I planned my week."
She padded barefoot across the polished wooden floor into the adjoining bathroom, which was essentially a private spa featuring white Italian marble, a rainfall shower, and a deep soaking tub facing the sea.
After a refreshing shower, Shruti dressed in her usual comfortable style, an oversized lemon-yellow cotton t-shirt and light blue denim shorts.
She left her dark hair wet, letting it fall naturally over her shoulders, and headed downstairs.
The Raheja Mansion during the daytime was even more impressive than it had been at night. Sunlight flooded through high architectural skylights, illuminating abstract modern oil paintings and sleek bronze sculptures placed strategically along the wide hallways.
As Shruti reached the bottom of the floating glass staircase, she was greeted by the sight of two tall security operatives dressed in dark suits and ear-pieces, standing discreetly near the grand front entrance. They immediately stood straight and gave her a polite nod of respect.
"Good morning, Miss Malhotra," one of them said.
"Good morning," Shruti smiled back warmly, feeling a bit awkward about having uniformed guards monitoring her every move. "Please, you guys don't have to stand so stiffly. It's way too early for all that formal stuff!"
The guards looked at each other in surprise, a faint, amused twitch appearing at the corner of their lips before they regained their professional composure.
Shruti followed the rich smell of freshly ground coffee and spices towards the back of the ground floor. She passed through a formal dining room that looked like it belonged in a royal palace and stepped straight into the mansion’s massive, industrial-grade kitchen.
The kitchen was an executive chef's dream, full stainless steel appliances, marble islands, hanging copper pots, and spotless countertops.
Standing near the central island was Joseph, the elderly head butler, along with Chef Ramesh, a tall man in a pristine white chef's coat, and three kitchen assistants who were meticulously preparing breakfast.
The moment Shruti stepped into the room, the entire kitchen staff froze.
"Miss Shruti!" Joseph exclaimed, stepping forward with a crisp bow. "Good morning! We were just about to send a breakfast tray up to your suite."
"Good morning, Joseph! Good morning, everyone!" Shruti replied cheerfully, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, please don't bother sending trays up. I’m not an invalid! I much prefer eating downstairs."
Chef Ramesh bowed politely. "Miss Malhotra, Mr. Raheja left strict instructions before he departed for his morning corporate meetings at seven. He requested that we prepare whatever you desire. Today’s menu includes fresh avocado toast on sourdough, smoked salmon, poached eggs, organic fruit bowls, and French pastries. "
Shruti looked at the elaborate spread of gourmet food arranged on silver platters and burst out laughing.
"Smoked salmon for breakfast?" Shruti asked with an amused grin. "Chef Ramesh, that all looks amazingly fancy, but honestly, all I really want is a hot cup of strong masaledar ginger chai and two plain buttered toasts."
Chef Ramesh blinked, looking utterly bewildered. "J-Just chai and toast, Miss Malhotra? Mr. Raheja told us to treat you like a royal guest!"
"And to me, fresh ginger tea IS royal!" Shruti declared, stepping right past the chef towards the stove. "Do you mind if I make the chai myself? I have a very specific way I like my spices boiled."
Joseph gasped, horrified at the thought of a guest working in the kitchen. "Miss Shruti, no! You cannot cook! If Mr. Raheja finds out we allowed a guest to boil tea in his kitchen, he will have our heads!"
"Oh, Akhil isn't here, Joseph," Shruti smirked mischievously, rolling up the sleeves of her oversized yellow t-shirt. "And what he doesn't know won't hurt him! Come on, where do you keep the fresh ginger and crushed cardamom?"
Before the staff could stop her, Shruti pulled out a small stainless steel saucepan, filled it with water, and placed it on the induction stove. She moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, chatting comfortably with the staff.
"So, Ramesh ji," Shruti said, crushing a thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger on the cutting board. "How long have you been cooking for Akhil?"
Chef Ramesh, slowly recovering from his initial shock, chuckled softly as he watched the vibrant young woman take over a section of his ultra-disciplined kitchen.
"I have been Mr. Raheja’s personal head chef for six years, Miss Shruti.
He is a very disciplined man. He eats high-protein meals, drinks black coffee without sugar, and follows a strict schedule. "
"Strict is an understatement," Shruti snorted, throwing the crushed ginger and cardamom into the boiling water. "The man is a human robot. He needs a little chaos in his life to remember he’s human."
Joseph watched her with warm, crinkling eyes.
In all the years he had managed the Raheja estate, the mansion had always been quiet, formal, and strictly organized.
Elite business associates and glamorous socialites occasionally visited for formal dinners, but they always moved with rigid stiffness, speaking in low, rehearsed voices.
Shruti Malhotra was like a bright bolt of lightning inside a quiet grey sky. Within thirty minutes of waking up, she had completely broken down the formal barriers of the estate.
"Now," Shruti said, pulling out a couple of ceramic mugs. "I made enough chai for everyone! Ramesh ji, Joseph, grab a mug!"
"Miss Shruti, we cannot drink tea with the guests, " Joseph began, but Shruti shot him a mock stern glare, handing him a steaming mug of ginger chai.
"Joseph, if you don't take this mug right now, I will personally tell Akhil that you made me wash all the dishes by hand!" she threatened playfully.
Joseph couldn't help but laugh out loud. Taking the mug, he took a small sip and his eyes lit up. "This is... incredible tea, Miss Shruti."
"Told you!" Shruti beamed, hopping up onto the edge of the high marble kitchen island and swinging her legs casually while sipping her tea.
For the next hour, the once-silent, hyper-disciplined kitchen filled with loud laughter, casual banter, and lighthearted storytelling as Shruti shared funny anecdotes from her travels in Vietnam and Thailand with the delighted house staff.
***
By mid-afternoon, Shruti was sitting at the executive work desk in her suite, fully immersed in her journalism work.
Akhil’s IT setup was flawless. The high-speed encrypted internet line allowed her to upload massive raw photo files and video clips to her magazine’s servers in seconds. She spent three focused hours polishing her travel article on the hidden street food markets of Hanoi.
At three o'clock, her laptop screen lit up with an incoming encrypted video call.
Shruti clicked 'Accept', and the faces of her best friend, Myra Khurana, and her colleague, Neil D'Souza, appeared on the high-definition display.
"Shruti!" Myra shrieked through the speakers, staring at the luxurious background behind Shruti. "Oh my god! Look at that view! Are you sitting in a five-star resort?!"
"Hey, Shruti," Neil waved with a easygoing smile from the magazine’s photo editing suite. "Glad to see you're safe. Raghav called Neil earlier today to give us a heads-up that you'd be working remotely for a few days."
"Hi guys!" Shruti smiled, adjusting her headset. "Yeah, I'm working from... well, from Akhil's estate in Worli."
Myra’s jaw dropped. She leaned in dangerously close to her camera, her eyes wide with shock and pure excitement. "Wait, wait, wait! You are staying at Akhil Raheja’s mansion?! Mumbai’s ultimate bachelor palace?!"
"Myra, keep your voice down," Shruti laughed nervously, glancing towards her open bedroom door. "It's not a romantic getaway! It's a temporary safety precaution. You know what happened at Marine Drive last night."
Myra’s expression softened, her tone turning genuine and concerned. "I know, babe. When Raghav told me about those thugs, my heart almost stopped. Thank God Akhil reached you in time. That man really turned into a real-life action hero for you."
Shruti felt a sudden, familiar warmth flush across her cheeks at the memory of Akhil pulling her against his chest on the dark promenade, holding her so tightly as if he would never let go. She quickly cleared her throat to hide her reaction.