Bruno looked at Nimisha, and she could have sworn she saw apology in those dark eyes.
"It's okay," she whispered. "Go."
The dog moved to his master's side, obedient as always.
Samarth's gaze shifted to Nimisha. "We need to talk."
Her pulse quickened. "About what?"
"My office. Ten minutes."
He walked away, Bruno at his heels, leaving Nimisha standing in the hallway with her heart pounding.
What had she done now?
Exactly ten minutes later, Nimisha knocked on the door of Samarth's private office.
"Come in."
She entered to find him behind his massive desk, his suit jacket discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. The scratch from last night's dinner was visible—a thin red line that made her stomach clench with guilt.
Abhay and Armaan stood by the window, their expressions unreadable.
"Close the door," Samarth said.
She did, her palms suddenly sweaty.
"Sit."
She took the chair across from his desk, folding her hands in her lap to hide their trembling.
Samarth leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that made her want to squirm.
"How long?" he asked finally.
"How long what?"
"How long have you and Bruno been..." he gestured vaguely, "...whatever you are?"
So that's what this was about.
"A few months," she admitted.
"A few months." He repeated the words like they were foreign. "My dog has been fraternizing with you for months, and you didn't think to mention it?"
"It didn't seem relevant."
"My dog is trained to protect me. To guard this house. He doesn't fraternize."
"Apparently he does."
Samarth's eyes narrowed. "Are you feeding him?"
"Sometimes."
"What?"
"Treats. Sometimes I give him treats."
