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Chapter 10
Alisha
My eyes have a mind of their own and can’t stop scanning the upscale restaurant. The interior decor is very elegant, with traditional Chinese lanterns and artwork on the walls. However, the highlight is definitely the view from the restaurant. It’s on the twentieth floor, offering a nice open sky view.
The staff also seems to be friendly and attentive, making sure we are comfortable. Ranveer doesn’t seem like an alien in this place. The way people are acknowledging him, he must be a regular here. From the manager to the waiters, Ranveer is the focus of their attention. Lucky for me, I am still dressed in my work clothes, or else I would have been flustered being in such a place.
“Do you happen to own this place?” I raise a brow as we take our seats in a private dining area near the huge glass window. The panoramic view of the city from the top of the tower is absolutely breathtaking, especially at this hour of the night. The sparkling lights of the city skyline captivates me.
“Not me but my best friend owns this place. I usually come here for most of my business meetings. This place gives me the privacy I need, keeping the unwanted attention at bay,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, as he takes a sip of his water and watches me over the rim of the glass.
“Oh, I see.” That explains why he doesn’t even have to look at the menu while I am scanning my eyes over it, trying my best to ignore the exorbitant figures on the right column.
“What would you like to have?” he asks me, leaning his elbow on the table.
“Why don’t you order for me as well? I am not a fussy eater and eat almost everything,” I reply, setting the menu aside.
“The women in my circle usually order salads or some low-fat shit,” he says as our waiter approaches to take our order.
I shrug my shoulders. “Well, that’s not me. I love food, and according to me, dieting is for the ones who don’t appreciate the goodness of food.”
He raises his eyebrows with a smirk on his face which looks ridiculously sexy. “Is that so?”
I squirm in my seat, feeling uncomfortable under his watchful gaze. “Ahh, what do you suggest I should order?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“We could probably order Italian. Their pasta and lasagna are to die for,” he suggests.
“I’m good with pasta.” I nod.
He turns to the side, looking at the waiter. “Bring us a portion of your chicken pasta carbonara and lamb lasagna along with a bottle of my usual wine,” he informs the waiter, who notes down our order and leaves.
“So, by what time is the wedding planner expected?” I ask once we are alone, trying my best to control my nerves, which are in over-drive.
“I messaged her, and she said she would be here in a few minutes.”
“Why didn’t you just let your grandpa and my parents decide? It would have been simple, and you wouldn’t have to waste your time going through this.”
Within a fraction of a second, I witness his eyes metamorphose from being cool and controlled to a hard stare, and he says, “Being my fiancée, it should be your choice to make, not theirs. And you don’t have to be concerned about my time. I am exactly where I want to be.” I flinch at his rebuttal. Seeing my discomfort, he softens his tone. “Listen, you don’t need to stress over it. All you have to do is choose from the stuff she shows you,” he explains as if I am a five-year-old kid.
Before I can reply, a young woman interrupts us as she approaches our table. She is dressed in black formal pants and a crisp white silk shirt. She looks professional and gorgeous standing at a height of what I assume to be five-four.
“I am sorry, Mr Seth, I am late. There was a stream of heavy traffic on the road,” she apologises before shaking hands with Ranveer and formally greeting him.
“That’s okay. Meet Alisha, my fiancée,” Ranveer introduces me.
“Hi, I am Sofia Malik, and it’s a pleasure meeting you.” She introduces herself with a polite smile, holding out her hand to me.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply as I shake her hands.
Ranveer gestures to her to sit, and she takes her seat next to me. The waiter comes to take her order. After ordering beer for herself, she pulls out her iPad from her bag. She is about to show some of her work when Ranveer’s phone rings.
He pulls out his mobile from his coat pocket and checks the screen. He then gazes at both of us and utters, “Sorry, I need to take this call. Why don’t you both continue in the meantime?”
Nodding my head, he makes his way out, leaving me with Sofia.
“Do you have any particular theme in mind?” Sofia inquires, pulling my attention to her.
“A theme?” I look at her blankly for a second before asking her in a hesitant voice, “Can you suggest something that’s not over the budget?”
