Edited on August 7th, 2020

| . . . C H A P T E R . . . 3.13 - I R A N I - H O U S E . . . |

Arnav's arms held me against his back, standing behind me. "It's over, love." He placed his chin on my shoulder, looking at me from the reflection in the mirror.

Was it though?

I couldn't help but feel skeptical. I shouldn't be. I should be rejoicing in the fact that he was behind bars now. Even though the last two weeks had been nothing short of horror, it made me wonder if it ended too soon. We had suffered due to his actions for years: Anjali for 7 years and 4 years for me. And it had all ended with him arrested in less than 24 hours.

He had evaded us so long... and all it took is Armaan speaking in a press conference along with Arnav telling the people of India what Shyam had done, give the detectives the rape kit and a sample of Aarav's hair to confirm that the kidnaper and the serial rapist was Shyam, along with Anjali, Lavanya and my testimony. Our names weren't announced in the interviews to protect identities, but people knew I was Armaan's sister - so little did that do.

When we'd asked Anjali and Lavanya how they'd escaped, Anjali said Shyam left the room unlocked, probably thinking they'd be too scared of him to try and run. I had looked at Lavanya then, and something made me feel as if they were hiding something, but I didn't have anything other than gut feeling to doubt Anjali's story. Of how they'd found a moment to escape after they'd heard Shyam leaving.

The rest of the story, NK relayed to us that morning. That Shyam must have not seen the news and must have gone out without thinking anything of it. But then someone recognized him from the news they'd seen and had called in the tip. The police had reached at once to capture and arrest him. He had no fighting chance.

I wanted to think it was that simple, but why didn't it feel right? Even when all the dots were connecting in theory, why did it feel like a piece was still missing from this story?

I mustered up a smile and twisted in his hold. "I suppose it is." After a quick peck on his lips, I added. "I should get ready for my interview."

"Hmm, it's today." He said more to himself as if needing to remind himself of our conversation back in Shimla. I turned to leave, thinking he would drop his arms to his side on his own account. Only, he didn't, and I faced him with questioning eyes. "Do you really have to go?" He pouted.

A genuine laugh escaped my lips. I placed my hands by his collars. "Yes, ex-boss. Sorry."

"Well... what does your fiancé get in return?" A spark entered his eyes, warning me of the mischief that laid ahead.

I played along. "I suppose I would be willing to cook him a nice dinner for being so understanding and supportive."

His eyes crinkled with amusement. "Please, I do not fancy a burnt dinner."

I slapped his chest for having no confidence in my cooking skills. I was trying to be nice here! "No dinner for you tonight, mister. Watch us ladies and Aarav have all the delicious treats."

I huffed glancing away from his eyes, but he took me by surprise when his lips captured mine in a soft yet deep kiss. Stealing my breath and making my heart flip. His face remained close to mines as he whispered, his lips brushing mine and warm breath falling over. "I have all the treat I need right here."

I fought my instincts to melt right there and leaned back, "Aren't you a sweet talker."

He opened his eyes and lifted his brows as if to scold me for putting some distance between us. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you weren't attracted to me."

Just to tease him a little, I leaned back in with my face brushing the side of his. Standing flush against him, our legs touching, I said in his ear. "I assure you, Arnav. I am very much attracted to you."

"Why don't you prove it then?" His hands snaked around my back, holding me captive there. He definitely hoped the proximity would serve as a distraction. I could very much feel the effect it was having on him. His heated body temperature was sure to emit over to mine, turning the end of my stomach into a pit of tingles.

Twisting my hand behind me, I placed it over his and freed myself. Since my lips were still by his ear, it distracted him enough to not notice. "Maybe... if I pass the interview."

I stepped away from him in a flash before he would return to reality and find me missing from his embrace. With a huge grin on my face, I grabbed the towel and rushed off towards the bathroom. "Got to shower. Go get Aarav ready for school. You promised him."

He grunted his displeasure, trying to reach for me but I shut the door on his face. "You'll pay for this, Khushi." He warned, using my name instead of sweet pea.

I laughed. His arousal must be very uncomfortable for him. I shouldn't have teased him that much, but neither had I known speaking in his ear, lips so close to his skin was a turn on for him. Honestly, I didn't know about any of the things when it came to physical intimacy. I didn't know his body or how it reacted. I had just gone with the flow. He whispered to me all the time. I didn't think much about returning the gesture. His breath falling over my skin would sometimes tickle me, but it had never turned my stomach into butterflies and got my blood pumping like it did him.

Shaking my head and fighting off my blush, I went on with my morning rituals. I would learn about intimacy eventually.

For now?

I had to focus on my interview.

It was time to look forward in our life. The past couldn't haunt us anymore.

. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .

"Khushi Gupta?"

The secretary seated at the front desk called my name after making me wait for forty minutes past my allotted interview time. It had irritated me a little when she hadn't given me a proper response when I had asked the reason behind the delay. I stood up, and she briskly instructed, "Mr. Irani will see you now."

It gave off the impression as if he were doing me a favor. I scolded myself to get my temper in check. What was wrong in that anyway? He may as well be doing me a favor. I had been lucky to get this interview call in the first place. I had applied to many places, and this was the only fashion house that had gotten back to me so far.

The office door was closed. I knocked on it, and out came a husky voice. "Come in."

Starting to get jitters, I held the knob and pushed the door open. A person looking to be only a couple years older than me, probably in his mid-20s, glanced up from his computer screen and stood up seeing me.

Is he old enough to be running such a huge business? From what I read, they were around almost 5 times longer than Arnav's business. Generations of Irani's worked and built this empire. How could they entrust someone barely having finished his education to take over the reins?

He buttoned his fitted suit and walked around to table to greet me as I walked in a few more steps. "You must be Ms. Khushi Gupta."

"Good morning, Mr. Irani. It's a pleasure to meet you." I greeted back calling on my utmost professionalism and slipping my hand into his outstretched one and offering a firm shake.

It was surprising how the gesture no longer frightened me.

"I apologize for the long wait. I assure you, we are not that unprofessional here. My earlier meeting ran much later than expected." He explained, waving at me to take a seat over at the couches instead of at the chairs across his desk. "Please, sit. Be comfortable. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee perhaps?"

Just that easily, I was drawn back into the fashion house. He didn't need to apologize or give any explanation but the fact that he did spoke to a sense of work ethics. I could tell from his accent that he was born and raised abroad, despite being Indian.

I politely declined, "No, thank you. Coffee makes me jittery." He nodded, ending that topic at that. Though, he didn't say anything else. Simply kept looking at me with a single arched brow. "Um..." I mumbled reaching for my files and forwarding it. "Uh, my... my resume."

Get it together, Khushi. Be confident. I scolded myself. Arnav's stares didn't unnerve me. Then why was I fumbling about for words in front of this man? He looked nowhere as intimidating as Arnav when I had first met him.

He did take it, but he didn't open it. He placed it down on the decorative oval mid-length glass table with mahogany feet. My eyes traveled to the file, wondering if he wasn't going to look at it.

As if noticing that, he said, drawing my eyes back up to him. "Unnecessary, even if you had attached it to your application. I was present briefly at the AR calendar launch. I saw enough." He unbuttoned the middle button of the suit and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Tell me. You had a great thing going for you there. For the first project itself, you were the lead designer. Why throw that away? Why resign?"

I knew the question would eventually come up in the interview. Any prospective employer would want to know the reason of leaving previous job and searching for a new one, whether it was a resignation or a firing. I simply hadn't expected it to be the first question he asked. Neither had I known he was there at the launch. I don't recall coming across him when Arnav had introduced some of them to me.

I had the whole answer prepared in my head when I had practiced for this interview. But, it sounded too artificial, so I ditched it. As if to encourage me, he added. "I called your supervisor. Aman, was it? He had all good things to say about you. Makes me wonder..."

"Mr. Irani, working at AR Fashion House was a blessing for me, but to be completely honest, working there wouldn't have been fair to other employees."

"Oh?" He questioned, "How so?"

"I'm fresh in the industry, Mr. Irani. It's only been six months since I graduated and four since I entered the working phase of life. I do want to be the lead designer, but at its own pace. I want to gradually work towards it."

He concluded while shifting back and spreading his arms on the couch, "So you like challenges."

"I suppose that is one way to look at it. Everyone needs a challenge in their life to push them in bringing their best foot forward."

"Why Irani House then?"

"Intrigue."

"Intrigue?"

I knew I had his interest piqued simply by using the word. I offered an easy smile, "Your headquarters are based in Mumbai, so yes, it intrigues me. Despite being an international brand, this House has stayed rooted to its tradition - where it first started. I don't have to tell you about this place's history and neither would I dare attempt to for you would know more than anything I could dig up online from your website or the news articles but that is my answer. That is why Irani House. I respect people who work close to home, who may have reached the heights but know when to stay down to Earth."

"Down to Earth?" He questioned in amusement arching a brow, "Miss Gupta, look at me. I am dressed in a tailor maid 75K rupees suit; this whole office, this whole building, is filled with the latest equipment, the richest fabrics, the best quality you'd ever find... and you see this as down to earth? You must have a flawed definition of the word."

If he was trying to test me, so be it. I countered with a smile playing on my lips, "No, I meant what I said. You might see the equipment and fabrics, and their quality. You might see your expensive custom suit. I see a watch whose value couldn't be more than 200 rupees in today's age. You keep touching it every few seconds. My guess is that it must be passed down to you - father? No, from your grandfather."

He glanced down at his wristwatch even as he touched it yet again - surprised that I noticed that behavior.

"I hear an American accent, but I see a guy who has a picture of his family in front of the Golden Temple as his phone screen saver. Sorry for overlooking, but it was hard not to when your phone is on the table and the screen has lit up atleast five times in the last ten minutes we have been sitting here."

I don't know where this confidence is suddenly coming from, but I keep going. "Oh, speaking of sitting here, there is a very comfortable chair for you behind that grand table and there was no reason for you to move being the person in charge and the one who'll eventually be deciding whether I stay or leave, but I see a guy preferring to sit here on the couch - not because it is more comfortable, but because of this antique end table which, again, must hold some personal significance to you. Now... if you were in my place, would you call this guy in front of me anything other than down to Earth?"

He stands up abruptly in an unreadable expression. "You may leave."

"Sir?" That was not the reaction I expected. Did I offend him by being a smart mouth? Why could I never hold my tongue? Not everyone was Arnav. I really needed to get that in control.

"This interview is over."

"Mr. Irani, I am sorry if..."

He cut me off, turning to face me after reaching his chair and sitting. "Miss. Gupta, you shouldn't apologize half-heartedly for speaking the truth. My employees call me Mr. Irani or Sir, but you may call me Sam." He started typing on his laptop.

"Huh?" I let out, not understanding what was happening with switch of topics back and forth. Employees? But he just said the interview was over. Unless... "I got the job?"

"I will see you the first Monday after New Years at 9 sharp. I have emailed you your appointment letter." He stopped typing. That is what he was doing on his laptop. How could he have an appointment letter ready so quickly?

I repeated in disbelief, "I got the job?"

He raised his right brow again, amused. "Are you low on hearing or something, Miss Gupta? Yes, the job is yours. Now, don't let me catch you run off your mouth again."

I pulled in my lips to not scream in happiness before answering. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." I apologized once again. "Thank you, sir." I reached the door.

Before I would pull it open, he called. "And Miss Gupta?" I looked sideways at him, "I better not hear a word of what you said passed on to my employees."

I nodded at once. He cared of his reputation. Now... who does that remind me of? Though, Arnav only seemed to appear as such on the exterior. Deep down, he did not mind who learned what dirty laundry about his life as long as it didn't hurt the people he considered his family. "You got it, Mr. Irani."

"Sam." He replied and when I glanced at him again, he was already back on his laptop. I don't understand why he insisted I call him by his name, but without saying anything, I left the office.

I had to bite my bottom lip the whole elevator ride down till I was out of the building because if I didn't, I would start squealing. Getting the job on my own merit and being this confident in an interview was something unheard of. That too on the first interview itself. Usually, people have to apply to multiple places, go through countless interviews before getting a job.

It made me really, really happy. I deserved this. I had worked for it. No one could say I got this interview or this job because I was lucky or because of my personal connections.

. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .