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Harsh winced. “Want to pitch your voice a little higher? The bats in Warangal haven’t taken flight yet.”
“I am not your lover!” Her voice was high and strident, her cheeks flushing uncomfortably hot. “I never will be.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” Harsh told her. “Praying Mantises are not my style.”
She was about to launch herself at him when Agastya spoke up. “I assume you mean they fake a relationship.”
The terrified publicist nodded. “We can then pitch what happened as a lover’s spat and it brings a whole different slant to the argument.”
“A different slant?” Ram queried.
“It could be considered banter rather than abuse. A relationship between the two would have the Harshians backing off from their hate campaign and it also makes Harsh Sir look respectable.”
Suryakanth Uncle snorted. “Respectable.”
“You need that for the new role,” Agastya told Harsh.
“No. No. No.” Harsh backed away from his brother, his hands running through his hair and tugging at it painfully. “NO.”
“It’s fake Harsh,” Agastya said. “It’s acting, something you do for a living. And it’s temporary. Once things settle, you can fake a breakup, and everyone can move on with their lives.”
“What is to stop his Harshians from attacking her when they break up?” Ram asked, forever in Big Brother mode.
“Harshians,” Raashi scoffed under her breath. “A stupid name for stupid fans.”
“Raashi?” Veda said mildly.
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Raashi’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no sound came out.
“You’ve said enough,” her sister informed her. “Now sit down and let us figure this out.”
Raashi sat.
“Harsh,” Agastya spoke into the silence that followed. “Do you have any other ideas? Anything that could work for both of you?”
Raashi watched Harsh shut his eyes tight, his shoulders bowing in defeat as he shook his head.
“No,” he said, resignation lining the word. “I don’t.”
Eleven
HARSH
This was a nightmare, one he couldn’t seem to wake up from. He leaned back against the wall as the families argued, their voices getting louder as they tried to shout each other down.
His father as usual, interspersed his shouting, with venomous glares in Harsh’s direction. Raashi’s support of him had been as unexpected as it was surprising. Harsh could defend himself perfectly fine, thank you very much. He just didn’t want to. Why expend the energy when no one was listening?
His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down. Nanda Garu’s assistant. He sighed. He’d been expecting this ever since he saw the news story his father had been frothing at the mouth about.
“Sir,” he said, quietly, turning his back on the room in a futile attempt to cut out the noise.
“What is this Harsh?” The assistant had passed the phone to Nanda Garu the minute he’d picked up. “I tell you low profile and instead you do this?”
Harsh pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do this,” he sighed. “Trust me, I’ve done a lot of shit but this one…this one isn’t on me.”
