Her

The moment I stepped out of QuantumTech with Bhaiya, excitement bubbled inside me. I couldn't believe it-Dante Marchetti, Mr. Grump himself, had actually asked me to dinner. Well, it wasn't a date, and it wasn't romantic, but it was still... something.

As we headed to the car, my mind raced with possibilities. Was Dante just trying to smooth things over after our argument, or was there something more? I felt a thrill of anticipation. Maybe tonight I'd see a side of him that wasn't all brooding and scowling.

We settled into the car, the familiar comfortable silence between us. Except tonight wasn't usual-I had plans I wasn't sure how to explain to Bhaiya.

"Hey, Bhaiya," I started, keeping my tone light. "Do you think it's alright if I head out by myself tonight?"

He shot me a quick glance, eyebrow raised. "By yourself? What's the occasion?"

I hadn't prepared a perfect excuse, and saying I was having dinner with his best friend was definitely out of the question. So, I settled for a half-truth. "I just want to explore the area a bit. Get a feel for the surroundings."

Bhaiya gave me a skeptical side-eye but didn't press. "Alright, just keep your phone on and check in now and then."

"Of course, Bhaiya. Promise." Relief washed over me as I smiled at him, my excitement building.

"Don't stay out too late," he warned as we pulled into the driveway.

"No promises!" I teased, hopping out of the car.

Once inside, I raced to my room, thoughts swirling about the evening ahead. I rifled through my wardrobe, discarding options that were too formal or casual. After what felt like ages, I settled on a simple yet flattering red dress that struck the right balance between effortless and elegant.

Next came my hair, which I curled lightly, and a touch of makeup to highlight my features. As I gazed at my reflection, excitement mixed with nerves settled in.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Bhaiya lounged on the couch, flipping through a magazine. He looked up as I approached, his eyes narrowing.

"All this just to check out the surroundings?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "A girl likes to look her best. I'll see you later."

He gave me a long look but eventually waved me off. "Take care, Tara."

With a final smile, I stepped outside into the cool evening air, my heart racing. This was it-whatever this night would turn into, it was about to start.

As I reached the street, I saw Dante beside his sleek black car, checking his watch. He looked serious, his suit perfectly tailored. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was a mistake. But when he met my gaze, the tension melted away.

Him

Standing outside their house, my mind raced. I adjusted my hair for the hundredth time, catching my reflection in the car mirror. Everything had to be perfect tonight. It was dinner with her, and I still wasn't sure how it had come to this. I checked my watch again; the seconds ticked by too slowly.

Anticipation gnawed at me, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. When had I last felt this way? Probably never.

Then, I heard soft footsteps approaching. I straightened up, turning toward the house. My eyes met hers, and for a moment, time froze. She was breathtaking, like something out of a dream, her dress hugging her figure, hair framing her face perfectly.

Shaking off the thoughts, I reminded myself that this was Tara-Arjun's little sister, my... colleague? No, tonight she was something more.

As she approached, her smile made it impossible to focus. "Ms. Basu," I said, adopting a mock-formal tone as I reached for her hand.

She giggled, a sound that warmed me. I lifted her hand to my lips, kissing the back of it without thinking. Her laughter held no teasing this time, only warmth.

"Shall we?" I asked, opening the car door for her.

"Such a gentleman," she quipped, her eyes sparkling as she slid into the passenger seat.

The drive was quiet but comfortable. There was an unspoken understanding between us. I felt her glancing over at me a few times, and each time, I resisted the urge to look back, focusing instead on the road. The short drive felt like forever.

When we arrived at the restaurant, the view was stunning. The city stretched out before us, twinkling lights like stars.

Tara stepped out, her eyes widening at the sight. A small sense of satisfaction swelled within me. We were seated quickly, and the casual conversation began.

"So," I started, "do you always accept dinner invitations from grumpy CEOs?"

She laughed softly, eyes gleaming. "Only when they ask as nicely as you did."

I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "Nice, huh? I wouldn't describe it that way."

Tara leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You were charming-fumbling and all."

I chuckled. "Is that what you call charming? That makes things a lot better."

Her expression softened. "Honestly, it was... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

Her words caught me off guard, making the moment feel more intimate. As we waited for our food, our conversation flowed more easily than I had anticipated. The tension from earlier faded, replaced by a comfortable rhythm.

"So, Ms. Basu," I leaned back in my chair with a smirk, "what's the most interesting project you've ever worked on? Besides redesigning QuantumTech, of course."

She rolled her eyes, though amusement sparkled in them. "Definitely QuantumTech. Nothing like working for a grumpy CEO who changes his mind every other day."

I chuckled. "Grumpy? I thought I was just being meticulous."

"Meticulous, sure," she replied with a smile. "But seriously, one of the most interesting projects was redesigning a boutique hotel in Paris. The owner wanted to mix traditional Parisian architecture with modern, minimalist interiors. It was challenging but rewarding."

Her passion captivated me. "That sounds impressive," I said sincerely. "And challenging."

"It was," she admitted. "But it was rewarding to see everything come together."

"I can imagine," I nodded. "Seeing the results of your work must be satisfying."

"It is," she agreed, her eyes narrowing. "What about you, Mr. Grump? What's the most interesting project you've worked on? Or is it all just numbers and contracts?"

"Numbers and contracts are part of it," I conceded, leaning forward. "Arjun and I once acquired a tech startup on the verge of bankruptcy. Everyone thought it was a lost cause, but we saw potential. It took a lot of work, but we turned it around. That company is one of our most profitable divisions now."

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. "That sounds like a huge risk. But it paid off."

"Big risks often do," I said. "It's all about seeing potential where others don't."

"That's... admirable," she said, genuine.

"Seems we both like challenges."

"Seems that way," she replied.

"Petardo," I said quietly, "if you don't mind, may I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead," she replied.

"What happened to your father? Your brother always changes the topic whenever it's brought up."

Her demeanor shifted as she took a deep breath.

"Six years ago, Bhaiya got accepted into Cambridge. Dad promised him a drive to celebrate, but there was an accident. A speeding truck hit the car. Bhaiya survived, but Dad died from blood loss."

Her voice was steady, but I heard the pain. I listened, my eyes focused on her.

"So that's why Arjun's quiet about it," I said softly.

Tara nodded, a sad smile on her lips. "He blames himself, even though it wasn't his fault."

The weight of her words settled between us. I wanted to comfort her but didn't know how. She glanced at me, searching my eyes.

"What about you, Dante? Your family?"

My stomach tightened, familiar bitterness rising. "My parents died when I was four," I replied coldly. "I was raised by my stepfamily. We don't talk anymore."

Tara's expression softened, and before I could pull away, she reached out, placing her hand on mine. Her touch was warm, grounding. I felt a strange comfort in it, despite the memories her question stirred.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, and there was no pity-only genuine sympathy. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The memories, the anger-they were too raw. But her presence made it easier to bear.

Just then, our food arrived, and we ate it in silence. After finishing our meal, as if sensing that the mood needed to shift, Tara smiled, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes.

"Dante," she began, her tone lighter now, "how about a dance?"

I shook my head, feeling too off-kilter to enjoy the idea. "Not tonight, Petardo. I'm not really in the mood."

Tara's smile faltered slightly but then she nodded, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She stood up and made her way to the dance floor on her own. I watched as she moved gracefully, her figure illuminated by the soft lights.

A man approached her, and as he started to dance with her, I felt a pang of unease. It was strange, this sudden tightness in my chest. I found myself rising from my seat and heading toward the dance floor. Without thinking, I spun Tara around to face me.

The music was slow, the beat steady. Her body moving against mine as if they were made to fit together.

Her scent enveloped me, a mix of her perfume and the fresh scent of her skin, and I felt myself getting lost in it, in the moment. I glanced down, her eyes locked on mine, her expression almost unreadable.

There was a softness to her gaze that made my heart pound in my chest. She moved against me, the feeling of her body against mine was intoxicating, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

Her eyes dropped to my lips, and I could feel her breathing quicken, her chest rising and falling against mine. We were both moving on instinct now, letting the music guide us.

I felt her lean in closer, her lips brushing against my ear, the sound of her soft panting sending a rush of desire through me.

"Dante," she whispered, her voice soft like the hush of a moonlit night, her breath sending shivers down my spine. My hands were on her hips, her skin warm beneath my fingers. I knew I should stop, pull back, but I couldn't resist the draw of her, the way she felt against me.

"Yes, Petardo?" I replied, my voice low and rough. I felt her smile, the curve of her lips against my neck. Her eyes met mine again, her pupils dilating as she leaned closer.

We were both lost in the moment now, the world around us fading away. We leaned in closer, our lips almost touching, when a loud ringtone shattered the moment, my phone vibrating in my pocket.

Tara pulled away, a look of confusion on her face. "Dante, you should answer it," she said, her words breaking the spell between us.

I nodded, knowing she was right. The moment had been interrupted, and I couldn't afford to let myself get distracted. Not now. Not ever. I took a step back, my hand reaching into my phone. "Petardo, just give me two minutes..." I said, stepping away.

***********