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The manager bustled around offering them coffee, tea, wine and anything else they might want. Raashi honestly thought he would rustle up some cocaine if they asked for it.
Dhanvantri Gadde, Raashi’s mother, glided to a stop beside her. She looked like Raashi’s sister, she thought dispassionately. Her younger sister at that! Her mother had the kind of timeless, effortless beauty that people spent millions trying to achieve. Veda had gotten some of it while Raashi had gotten…Well, Raashi made do with personality.
“Take that off,” Dhanvantri murmured now. “It looks terrible.”
Raashi threw her sister a triumphant look before pulling the orange carpet off her and handing it back to a salesperson. The door opened at the end of the floor and a slew of safari suited men stormed in. Raashi rolled her eyes. That could only mean one thing…her brother-in-law was in the vicinity. Could the man not live without his wife for the space of one morning?
Agastya strolled in a minute later, talking to someone on the phone while simultaneously signing a folder another someone held out to him. Honestly, the man made her want to hold him hostage in a spa for a month. He probably didn’t know how to spell the word ‘relax.’
He stepped towards Veda, his face softening at the sight of her, and Raashi got a glimpse of who was walking behind him. Now, she was the one who didn’t know how to relax. Harsh hadn’t seen her yet. He was busy signing autographs for some of the store’s employees, smiling easily, his affable charm on full display.
Then he looked up and saw her standing on the little raised podium they’d given her in front of the mirror and his smile disappeared, a blank mask sliding into place.
“Harsh needed some clothes too,” Agastya told Veda. “And since you guys already had this place locked down, it made sense to come get it here.”
“You are shopping?” Veda asked at the same time as Raashi said, “Since when does he need more clothes?”
Harsh shrugged, walking over to touch her mother’s feet before straightening and saying, “Agastya insists I can’t get married in ripped jeans and a white shirt.”
A small smile tugged at Raashi’s lips. “Maybe he’ll allow it if you promise to button it right till the top.”
Veda laughed. “Good one, Raashi.”
She wanted him to smile, to smirk, to look at her and say something snarky back. She wanted him to be the Harsh she knew. But instead, Harsh turned away from her, pointedly looking at Veda.
“Zip your mouth,” Harsh told her in mock horror. “The first rule of being Harsh Kodela is that he doesn’t button up.”
“Apparently the second rule is that he refers to himself in the third person.” Raashi tried to join the conversation, again hoping for a response. This time, she got a semblance of one.
“I’ll button up if you wear that hideous orange thing,” he dared her, pointing to the mango saree.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Neither of you is wearing anything scandalous,” her grandmother of an older sister said repressively. “Harsh, the men’s section is on the second floor. Go with Agastya and pick out a kurta.”
“No,” he said, plonking himself on a couch in the corner, crossing one leg over the knee of the other. “They can bring it to me.”
Raashi rolled her eyes at him, and he just stared at her, not rising to the bait.
The manager rushed over to him. “Yes Sir. Of course, Sir. What kind of kurta would you like?”
Harsh held Raashi’s gaze, his voice dropping an octave. “Something with buttons, please.”
A familiar hot flush swept over her as he watched her still standing like a statue on the little podium.
Agastya groaned in the background. “I don’t have all day for this,” he muttered. “Veda, could you just?”
Apparently, her sister could just…because she bustled over to Harsh and the manager and started rattling off instructions. Which left Raashi to her mother’s ministrations.
“How about this one?” her mother asked, draping a cream, lace concoction on her.
“I look like a vanilla cake with buttercream frosting,” Raashi replied.
“She can’t wear white, Amma,” Veda called out from the other end of the room, clearly able to follow two conversations at one time. Agastya was sitting beside Harsh on another call, his hand tapping impatiently on the armrest.
And Harsh…
Harsh was watching her, that hooded, guarded look on his face. A deep sense of unease slithered through her. What had happened? She’d thought they’d gone from enemies to friends but somewhere along that journey, with a small detour for a mind-blowing orgasm, they’d ended up in a strange land…one in which she couldn’t find her footing.
