eleven Peace Offering #2
She was right, he had been conveniently vague about that part.
If fifteen people were going to face off in a corporate showdown, it was only fair we knew what we were competing for.
Marketing lead of the fashion vertical? Creative head?
A made-up designation that sounded important but meant nothing?
‘Are you … going to go for it?’ Tanya hesitated, toying with the edge of her notebook.
Fancy title or not, it had to be a step up from my current limbo. ‘Yeah, this could be the opportunity I’ve been hounding Varun for.’
‘Same.’
Our eyes met and a silent understanding passed between us. It made my body tense up ever so slightly. Because the fact was, we both wanted the same thing … and only one of us could have it.
The interaction with Tanya had left me feeling strangely heavy, so when Neil told me he had a ‘proposal’ to discuss with me, I wasn’t exactly in the mood.
‘No, thank you,’ I said, brushing him off. ‘I’ve had enough surprises for one day.’
He wheeled his chair closer to mine. ‘I promise you’ll like this one.’
I sighed, realizing that he wasn’t going to leave me alone until I’d heard him out. ‘Okay, what is it?’
He pushed his chair back and got up. ‘Let’s go out for lunch. I’ll explain there.’
Lunch? With him? The idea was preposterous.
‘Come on, I know you didn’t get your dabba today.’ He pointed at the corner that usually held my lunchbox.
Damn you, Sarita didi. Why did you have to take a leave today of all days?
He continued to tower over me as I weighed my options.
I’d initially planned to grab lunch with Tanya at our usual south Indian spot, but I’d noticed her leaving ten minutes ago by herself.
I could, of course, order in, but the food delivery apps always charged a notoriously high fee.
‘Fine. But a quick lunch. I’ve got a lot left to do. ’
He grinned. ‘Yes, boss.’
Out in the compound, people were spilling out of office buildings from all directions. It was two in the afternoon, which meant all the popular lunch spots would be packed. Maybe we could find a table at McDonald’s, I thought.
‘So, got any new scandals up your sleeve?’ I asked him as we walked towards the row of cafes. His legs were so long, I almost had to jog to keep up.
He just shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.
‘Oh my God, you do! Show me, please.’
He chuckled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. I craned my neck as he opened his Instagram app and handed it to me.
I gasped so loud, I felt a few heads turn to look at me. There, in his drafts folder, was a collage comparing Bollywood’s newest nepo kid’s red-carpet gown to a vintage sofa cover. And no, I did not mean the cute kind.
‘No way,’ I said to no one in particular, pinching the screen to zoom in. The caption was even better—biting, clever and with a classic @devilwearscolaba hashtag: #SoFaSoGood.
I closed the post and scrolled further, until I found something that made my jaw drop.
I stared at the photo of one of Instagram’s loudest body-positivity warriors stepping out of a clinic in oversized sunglasses.
The sign behind her exposed her hypocrisy in giant, LED letters: Fit & Flawless, Advanced Body Sculpting Studio.
‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I whisper-screamed, just as Neil plucked his phone out of my hands.
‘Sorry, I thought I’d deleted that,’ he said, locking the screen.
‘You’re not going to post it?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s her body.’
I hesitated. ‘But her whole brand is—’
‘Confidence,’ he finished for me. ‘And if she wants help with that, that’s her business.’
‘Huh,’ I said, more to myself than to him. ‘So you do have a moral compass.’
He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Would it kill you to look less surprised?’
I was so busy studying him that I didn’t notice where we were headed until we were standing outside Fable Café.
I blinked up at the signboard, then at him.
This was where he wanted to go? I’d walked by the fancy bistro hundreds of times without ever bothering to stop and look at the menu.
What was the point? It was bound to be out of my budget.
I’d never even considered it for a special occasion, let alone a random weekday lunch.
He pushed the door and held it open before I could protest and a hostess immediately materialized in front of us. ‘Table for two?’
I don’t know why, but my brain chose that exact moment to stop functioning. No, thank you, I willed myself to say. We changed our mind. We got lost on our way to McDonald’s. We’re not even hungry. Anything, literally anything would’ve done, except for what I ended up saying: ‘Sure.’
I guess I’d just have to order the cheapest thing on their menu.
The cheapest thing on their menu, as it turned out, could’ve gotten me a week’s worth of groceries.
I inspected the bucket of truffle fries suspiciously.
Had they freckled it with gold dust or something?
Neil, of course, shared none of my unease.
Places like this—where cutlery came in one size too many and waiters made small talk instead of glaring at you for asking for extra sambar—were his natural habitat.
He’d barely glanced at the menu before ordering a burrata salad and a kombucha, of all things.
Why someone would choose to do this to themselves, I had no idea.
‘So,’ I said, tossing a stupid, overpriced fry in my mouth. ‘What’s this proposal you wanted to discuss?’
He ignored his food, his gaze fixed on me. ‘You should partner with me for the pitch.’
‘Huh?’
‘The relaunch campaign for the clothing line? Let’s work on it together.’
‘We are working on it together,’ I reminded him after I’d gulped down my bite. ‘You’re my intern.’ Is that why he’d dragged me all the way out here? Maybe if we left right now, they wouldn’t bill us. I’d only had one fry.
‘No, not as your minion intern who you have to blackmail to do all the boring, mindless work.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, what did you have in mind?’
‘I want to be involved. Like creatively.’
I studied him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. What was he playing at? ‘Where has this sudden sense of initiative come from, if I may ask?’
‘Let’s just say I have something I need to prove to someone.’
I rolled my eyes at his inability to be direct. This mysterious, broody thing was getting old. ‘Don’t go all Preeti Sabharwal on me.’
‘Huh?’
Should’ve known he wasn’t a Chak De! India fan. ‘Never mind. But you’re going to have to give me a lot more than that.’
He hesitated just long enough for me to notice how his shoulders tensed up. ‘My dad,’ he finally said. ‘I need to prove to my dad that I’m not a complete waste of space.’
I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table. ‘Why does he think you’re a complete waste of space?’
‘That’s a story for another day. What matters is that I need a solid recommendation letter from you at the end of this internship.
’ He looked down at his plate, stabbing the burrata with his fork.
‘Something that convinces him that hiring me was the best decision of your career.’ The smirk was slowly coming back.
‘A recommendation letter from me?’ I blinked. ‘Why not ask your Rajat uncle? I’m sure he’d write you a love letter if you asked nicely.’
‘That’s exactly why I can’t. My dad knows Rajat uncle would sing my praises even if I set the whole office on fire.’
That made me laugh. He wasn’t wrong. ‘You’re really serious about this, huh?’
He nodded. ‘You want your promotion, I want my reference. We can help each other out.’
‘And how do I know you’re actually going to be of any help? No offense, but you’ve kind of been dead weight so far.’ So, what if he had been proving me wrong lately? I didn’t need to admit it to him.
‘You can be really mean, you know?’ he said, but a smile was sitting comfortably on his face.
‘If you haven’t noticed, fashion is kind of my thing.
With your creative drive and my style instinct, we’ve got this clothing line pitch in the bag.
’ For someone who’d blackmailed his boss to get out of doing any work, and then had to be reverse-blackmailed into finally doing it, he sure knew how to inspire confidence.
I held out my hand, not bothering to wipe off the truffle grease first. ‘Deal.’
The waiter brought out our bill as Neil’s strong, tanned hand closed around mine. And then he was holding out his credit card.
I frowned. ‘We’re splitting.’ I might be broke, but I still had my pride.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You barely ate anything.’
‘That’s not the point,’ I said, trying to wrestle the card out of his hand.
He pulled his hand all the way back, so I’d have to jump over the table to get to it. I won’t lie, I thought about it. ‘Then consider it my peace offering for starting that whole blackmail circus.’
The waiter glanced nervously between the two of us, wondering what to do. He must’ve seen some resignation on my face because he proceeded to accept the card from Neil.
That was a pretty cheap peace offering, I thought to myself. If I’d known, I would’ve ordered a damn pasta.