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His career was already made but Harsh refrained from reminding the other man of that. “I can’t wait to hear it,” he replied, his gaze scanning the room.
“It’s going to the Oscars, my boy. The Oscars.”
If he had a rupee for every time he heard that, Harsh could retire and never have to make another movie. He listened to the other man ramble on, his voice a deathly monotone that did not lend itself to reciting a story idea.
Soft fabric slid against his hand as lush, warm curves pressed up against him.
“Hello handsome.”
Harsh glanced at his leading lady, Vaishnavi Reddy, dredging up his legendary charm and unleashing it. “Hello gorgeous.” He let his gaze dip to the skintight bodycon dress she wore, her carefully coiffed hair spilling over one shoulder, an artfully placed curl drawing attention to her cleavage. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight.”
She smiled, her fake eyelashes fluttering as she gazed coyly up at him. She needed to slow it down or the eyelashes would flutter right off her face. “I had to be worthy of being on your arm tonight.”
He suppressed a wince, not letting her see his aversion to the idea of her being on his arm that night or any night.
“We should join the party,” she purred now, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his bicep.
Harsh bent his head, allowing his lips to graze the outer shell of her ear. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, staying true to the character he’d etched out for himself. “The party is wherever I am.”
And with that, he switched it on. The Harsh Kodela the world knew had arrived.
“Let’s get this party started!” he roared.
The assembled gathering roared back at him, a wave of sound that had Vaishnavi squealing like a stuck pig next to him.
Music blared, the audio swelling in the room as the vibe changed. He grabbed Vaishnavi, spinning her to the music and dipping her over his arm. Her squeals turned into giggles that felt like nails being driven into his head. Ignoring that, he spun her into the arms of a guy standing nearby and held his own hand out to the producer’s wife.
The middle-aged lady in the silk saree blushed and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. Harsh coaxed her onto his makeshift dance floor and drew her into a gentle waltz. The producer grinned approvingly, raising his glass in a toast and Harsh knew he’d be headlining the other man’s next movie too.
The noise levels in the room were excruciating but no one made a move toward the doors leading to the theatre in the corner. Here was where the fun was. Here was where he was.
Laughing now, he deposited the producer’s wife back with her moneybags of a husband.
‘Alright then, let’s-“
Whatever he’d been about to say disappeared into the ether when he heard a familiar voice call out his name. His sister-in-law had come! He spun towards her voice, a broad grin on his face as he took in her own flushed and smiling face.
“You came!” He pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him in a bear hug and picking her off the ground.
“Harsh, I can’t breathe,” she gasped and he let go, his hands coming to grip her upper arms.
“You came!” he exclaimed again.
“I did!” she agreed. “And I brought family with me.”
“Anna’s here?” Harsh felt like he’d burst with happiness. His brother and sister-in-law were some of his favourite people in the world and knowing they were here for something so important to him meant everything.
But Veda was shaking her head regretfully. “Agastya couldn’t come. Nanna sent him to Chennai for some crisis management.”
“Of course.” Harsh shrugged. He understood. He always understood. Anna was a busy man, a power in politics. A capital ‘P’ in that power.
“Priya Akka came with you? And Aarush?” He peered around her looking for Priyanka, his older sister or her husband. Neither were there.
“No. They wanted to but Aarush has been running a temperature since morning so they couldn’t.”
“Then who did you bring with you?” he asked her, baffled. Surely, she hadn’t brought his parents along? If his father, the Chief Minister of their state, were here, the room would be in pandemonium.
“Me.” The cold, dry voice cut through his musings. “She brought me with her, dipshit.”
