Chapter 4 #2
"He was just doing what any friend of my brother would do," Shruti said quickly, switching the topic to work. "Anyway, Neil, I just uploaded the final twenty high-res temple shots from Da Nang. Did you get them?"
"Got them right here," Neil confirmed, typing on his keyboard. "They look phenomenal, Shruti. The color grading on the morning mist photos is breathtaking. I'll lay them out for the main print edition by tomorrow morning."
"Awesome," Shruti smiled. "Let me know if you need any text captions edited."
"Will do," Neil nodded. "Take care of yourself, Shruti."
"Bye, Neil!"
As soon as Neil disconnected from the call, Myra’s sly, knowing smirk returned on the screen.
"Okay, now that the photographer is off the line," Myra said, resting her chin on her hand. "Spill the tea, Miss Malhotra. What is it really like living under the same roof as Akhil Raheja?"
"It’s annoying," Shruti grumbled playfully, leaning back in her ergonomic leather chair. "He is completely overbearing and controlling. He has guards posted everywhere! I feel like I'm living in a gold-plated fortress."
"A gold-plated fortress owned by an insanely gorgeous billionaire who has been secretly obsessed with you for years," Myra pointed out dryly.
Shruti almost choked on her breath. "Myra! Stop saying stuff like that! He is NOT obsessed with me. He sees me as a younger sister. He explicitly told me in the car yesterday that I will 'always be seven' to him!"
"Oh, please!" Myra snorted loudly, rolling her eyes.
"A man who sees you as a little sister does not look at you the way Akhil looked at you in that emerald green saree last night.
Shruti, I saw him! When you walked into that ballroom, the man forgot how to breathe!
He stared at your waist like he wanted to devour you! "
"He was just shocked to see me in a saree instead of muddy hiking boots," Shruti argued, though her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs.
"Keep denying it all you want, Shruti," Myra chuckled teasingly. "But now you two are living under the exact same roof. Forced proximity in a lonely luxury mansion? Honey, that slow-burn energy is going to explode sooner or later. Just don't forget to tell me all the juicy details!"
"You are unbelievable, Myra! I'm hanging up!" Shruti laughed, disconnecting the call before her face could turn any redder.
Shruti closed her laptop and walked over to the balcony glass, looking out at the rolling blue waves. Myra’s words echoed in her mind. 'Forced proximity...'
She placed her hand against the cool glass.
She had tried so hard for eight years to bury her feelings for Akhil, convincing herself that he would only ever see her as Raghav’s little sister.
But being in his house, surrounded by his presence, smelling his subtle cologne everywhere she went...
it was making her carefully built defenses crumble piece by piece.
***
By one o'clock in the morning, the entire Raheja Mansion was wrapped in a deep, quiet stillness.
Shruti was tossing and turning in her massive king-sized bed. Despite the quiet surroundings, her jet lag from her Southeast Asia flights, combined with her racing thoughts about Reyansh Khanna and Akhil, made sleep impossible.
Her stomach let out a loud, hollow growl.
Shruti sat up, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She hadn't eaten much dinner earlier because she had been so focused on finishing her article draft. Now, at past one in the morning, she was completely starving.
"Alright, stomach," Shruti whispered into the dark room. "Time for a stealth mission."
She swung her legs out of bed. She was dressed in her cozy nighttime attire, a pair of baggy grey pajama pants with tiny cartoon pandas printed all over them, and a washed-out, oversized pink t-shirt that hung loosely over her shoulders.
Her hair was pulled up into a messy, lopsided bun on top of her head.
Opening her bedroom door quietly, she tiptoed down the dimly lit second-floor hallway, keeping her steps soft against the runner rug. The ground floor was quiet, illuminated only by subtle floor nightlights casting soft golden shadows along the marble walls.
Shruti slipped into the dark, silent kitchen. She didn't want to turn on the bright overhead lights and alert the night security guards outside, so she relied on the soft ambient light filtering through the high garden windows.
She opened the massive double-door stainless steel refrigerator. The bright internal LED light illuminated rows of sparkling water, imported cheeses, organic juices, prepped gourmet ingredients, and high-end salad dressings.
Shruti frowned, scanning the glass shelves. "Where is the actual real food?" she muttered to herself.
After digging around the back shelves, her eyes lit up as she found a small treasure trove, a box of yellow eggs, a block of sharp cheddar cheese, some green chilies, onions, and a packet of instant spicy Maggi noodles tucked away in the back pantry cupboard.
"Jackpot!" Shruti grinned.
She set to work quietly, boiling water in a small pan for her instant noodles. While the noodles cooked, she pulled out a cutting board, a frying pan, and butter to make herself a spicy cheese omelet.
Within ten minutes, the quiet, dark kitchen was filled with the delicious, mouthwatering aroma of melting cheddar, fried spices, and hot chili-flavored noodles.
Shruti happily plated her spicy cheese omelet beside a steaming bowl of Maggi noodles. Taking a fork, she hopped up onto the high marble kitchen island, crossing her legs comfortably on the polished surface, and began eating with pure bliss.
"Mmm... pure heaven," she whispered, taking a hot bite of the cheesy omelet.
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors leading into the main foyer opened softly.
Shruti froze, a forkful of noodles halfway to her mouth.
Heavy, measured footsteps echoed across the marble floor heading straight towards the kitchen.
Shruti’s heart did a sudden leap into her throat. Was it a night security guard? An intruder?
Before she could hop down from the island to hide, a tall figure stepped into the kitchen archway and reached out, flipping on the warm ambient accent lights.
The warm glow illuminated Akhil Raheja.
Shruti’s breath caught in her chest.
Akhil looked utterly exhausted, yet dangerously handsome.
He was returning from an extremely long night of dealing with corporate lawyers and international security teams. His black suit jacket was slung casually over one shoulder, held by two fingers.
His crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing his bronze throat, and his dark silk tie hung loosely around his neck.
His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he had been running his fingers through it all night, and his sharp jawline carried a faint trace of evening shadow.
As the lights clicked on, Akhil stepped into the room, expecting to find the kitchen empty.
Instead, his dark eyes landed on the sight sitting directly on top of his multi-million-dollar Italian marble kitchen counter.
Shruti Malhotra, wearing oversized panda pajama pants, a messy topknot bun, holding a forkful of instant noodles, looking like a deer caught in high-beam headlights.
Akhil stopped dead in his tracks.
For three long seconds, total silence filled the kitchen.
Akhil slowly lowered his suit jacket, placing it over the back of a barstool. His gaze swept over her entire frame, taking in her baggy panda pajamas, her bare feet tucked under her legs, her flushed cheeks, and the delicious-smelling mess of food laid out on his pristine counter.
A slow, lazy, ridiculously handsome smirk began to spread across Akhil’s tired face. His dark eyes flickered with deep, amused warmth.
"Miss Malhotra," Akhil’s deep, gravelly voice echoed through the quiet kitchen, rich with teasing humor. "May I ask why you are sitting on my imported Italian marble island at one o'clock in the morning looking like a fugitive panda?"
Shruti swallowed the bite of noodles in her mouth, quickly pulling herself together and shooting him a sharp glare.
"First of all, Akhil," Shruti retorted, placing her fork down, "panda pajamas are iconic and comfortable. Second of all, I was starving because your chef's idea of a light dinner was two pieces of steamed asparagus and a leaf of lettuce!"
Akhil chuckled, a low, smooth sound that vibrated straight to Shruti’s core.
He tossed his car keys onto the counter with a metallic clatter and walked towards her with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing directly in front of her, leaning his hands against the edge of the marble island on either side of her knees.
Shruti’s breath hitched. With her sitting high on the counter and him leaning in close, their eyes were at exact eye level.
The rich, intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne and expensive scotch washed over her, making her pulse race uncontrollably. Up close, she could see the slight lines of exhaustion around his dark eyes, but the intense, magnetic power he carried was as strong as ever.
"So," Akhil murmured, looking down at her plate with a raised eyebrow. "You decided to launch a midnight raid on my kitchen?"
"It's not a raid!" Shruti defended herself, holding her head high. "It's called survival. And for your information, I am making excellent use of your kitchen appliances."