He watches me carefully. Still not entirely convinced, it scares me sometimes that he can read me so well, despite me trying my utter best to be unreadable. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly.
“See?” I add lightly. “Crisis averted.”
“Wear it,” he says.
I frown, blinking a few times, unable to gather his request or…more like an order.
“What?”
“Wear it,” he repeats, softer now. “I want to see.”
I hesitate for half a second. Then unclasp it. Slide it around my neck. The familiar weight settles against my skin. I look back at the screen.
His expression shifts. “It looks pretty on you, Sunshine,” he murmurs. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly very aware of his gaze. “You look so beautiful,” he adds.
My fingers brush the pendant lightly. “Don’t stare,” I say, trying to sound unaffected.
“I have all rights to.” I roll my eyes. But I don’t look away.
“Careful,” I warn. “You’re getting soft.”
“Only for you.” There’s no hesitation in it. No teasing edge. I don’t know what to do with that. So I don’t respond.
I just sit there, fingers resting lightly against the pendant, watching him watch me. It feels good.
CHAPTER 49
ARYAN
There are days when work actually demands my attention. I mean, it always does but I believe in delegation and I tend to do that. Numbers don’t flirt back. Contracts don’t roll their eyes at me. Deadlines don’t blush and look away when I say something they pretend not to like.
They just sit there, being very demanding and unromantic, not phased by my charm. I’ve been at my desk since morning, going through reports, signing things that apparently require my signature to exist in the world, listening to people explain projections like they’re narrating a thriller.
I’m focused which isn’t new but it feels different after Ishika walked into my life. Because somewhere in the middle of all of this, she always had my attention.
Like even right now, I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked last night with her head tucked under my chin. The way she went quiet when she talked about wanting answers. The way she still tries to act like she doesn’t care when she clearly does.
Dating Ishika—I’ve learned—is a lot like trying to befriend a very beautiful, emotionally unavailable cat. Not because she’s cold. People who don’t know her would probably describe herthat way. Sharp edges. Minimal patience. Permanent suspicion toward anything that resembles vulnerability.
But that’s not it. She isn’t cold. She’s cautious. There’s a difference and a very important one. Cold people don’t soften the way she does when she thinks no one is looking. Cold people don’t carefully rinse out steel tiffins before returning them because “your mother will judge me if I send this back dirty.” Cold people definitely do not save my failed, rock-solid muffins in their fridge like they’re something worth preserving. Cold people don’t notice when you get hurt. Cold people don’t look at you like you matter when they forget to guard their expression.
She does. Every time. Even when she pretends she doesn’t. Even when she’s busy building walls again five minutes later.
And I—I think I’ve become someone who notices all of it. Which is probably why, when the door to my office opens around lunch—I look up immediately. And there she is. Standing there like she belongs here. Like she’s always belonged here.
There’s a small paper bag in her hand. I can hear Ajay ramble about something in the background, but I don’t think anything else can take my attention when Ishika is in the room.
“Did you forget how to speak?” she asks, raising a brow when I don’t respond immediately. I lean back in my chair slowly, letting my gaze drag over her in a way that I know will annoy her.
“Just appreciating,” I say.
Ajay clears his throat. Poor man. Wrong place. Wrong time.
“Sir, the contract—”
“Can wait,” I say without looking at him. My eyes stay on her.
“What’s that?” I nod toward the bag in her hand.
