Page 58 of Red Flags and Rishtas
‘Watch where you’re going, old man.’ I brushed his hand away from my elbow and opened my clutch to find some tissues.
His eyes widened as he took me in, and without so much as a warning, he pulled me into him. The air left my lungs as my face hit his chest, with his arms wrapped around me. For a second, I was too stunned to do anything. I could only acknowledge the warmth of his body in contrast with the cold whisky that was splashed all over my torso, feel the tips of his fingers brushing uncertainly against my naked waist and smell the cologne on his suit, mixed as it was with the woody notes of his drink.
And then it struck me that I was glued to a client in the middle of a work event, in plain sight. I pushed him away with all the force I could muster.
‘What the hell …’ I stammered, the blood rushing to my face. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
My eyes flitted around nervously. What if Pooja had seen us? What kind of conclusions would she jump to? But nobody of note seemed to be in the lawns, save for a few waiters at the bar, who made no effort to hide that they were watching us.
‘You’re, ahem …’ Aadar cleared his throat and stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the waiters and theirs of me. ‘You’re on display.’
He raised his eyebrows and pointed his gaze at my chest before quickly looking away. I gasped as I glanced down at my beautifully embroidered pink blouse, which was now almost transparent. The drink had seeped through the fabric and wassticking dangerously close to my boobs. And without a bra to act as an added barrier, the outlines of my nipples were out there for the world to see.
I crossed my arms over my chest and turned on my heel, scouting for the nearest exit. The archway that led to the hotel lobby was a few minutes’ walk away, and I could see some guests entering through it.
‘Over there.’ Aadar pointed to the partition between the tent on our left. He placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me outside the lawns. He kept following me as I made my way inside the hotel from the east gate.
‘I’m sorry about your dress,’ he said in the corridor leading to the conference room.
‘Just …’ I was fuming. ‘Shut up.’
My face, I knew, was bright red. I wasn’t sure if it was because of anger, embarrassment or both. Instead of trying to work it out, I kept my arms tightly over my chest and continued walking, consciously avoiding the eyes of anyone who passed me by. Ditching a dupatta, I’d decided that morning, would offer me more freedom to move around in the function.
What incredible foresight you have, I scolded myself.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked from behind me, struggling to keep up with my ghastly pace. ‘Your room can’t be down here.’
‘We’re not going,’ I said as I paused outside the conference room on the ground floor that we had converted into the fashion closet, ‘to my room.’
I pushed the door open, desperately praying for it to be empty. I did not have the patience to explain this to Preet right now, or worse, to a styling intern. But the room was eerily quiet – even the fashion team needed time to get dressed. A huge pile of clothes was covering the long conference table, and racks of clothes were scattered around the rest of the room. I bumped into a garment steamer as I tried to make my way around thetable. A crumpled scarf slipped out of the pile, and I threw it over my chest to free up my hands.
‘Whoa,’ I heard Aadar saying, ‘what is this, a flea market?’
‘Sure, if flea markets sold couture,’ I muttered.
I continued browsing through the clothes strewn about, looking for something to replace my soaked blouse.
‘Are you even … allowed to be here?’ he asked.
A few garment bags with Harsh and Deepti’s names were hanging from a rack. I carefully stepped around them, making sure I didn’t touch anything important.
‘Aha,’ I said, picking up a pink sequined blouse from the pile on the table. It was an elegant Anamika Khanna piece.
It might’ve been a little big for me, but I’d packed some safety pins in my clutch that’d do the trick. Plus, it was padded.
‘You’re just going to take that?’ he asked again, reminding me of his presence on the other side of the room.
I said crossly, ‘Well, you’ve left me with no choice.’ Then, looking up at him, I added, ‘Besides, I’ll put it back long before anyone notices it’s gone.’
‘And what if I rat you out?’ he asked, placing his hands on the chair across the table from me.
I turned to the clothing rack behind me and retrieved a black shirt. ‘Why would you do that,’ I said, handing it to him, ‘when you’re in on the crime?’
The white shirt he was wearing had a wet, golden patch around his abdomen. I tried not to think about how, not very long ago, my chest had been pressed against that very spot.
He let out a low whistle as he examined the shirt. ‘This looks expensive.’
‘Just don’t spill any more drinks tonight.’
