Something About Us- MG || (Part 51|Page 52) - Page 15

And that's the jealousy taking the wrong direction

And with eachother spending time hosaka hai they confess or acknowledge their feelings towards each other may be or may be not 🤗🤗🙂🙂

Part 12

Investor Gala:

The venue was exactly what Geet expected—an opulent five-star ballroom, all crystal chandeliers, rich mahogany paneling, and an air of quiet, calculated arrogance.

Nothing had changed.

Not the people.
Not the polished small talk.
And certainly not the lingering air of exclusivity.

Only now—she wasn’t standing in a catering uniform, carrying trays.

Now, she was inside the room, not serving it.

Geet had chosen a deep emerald dress—elegant but understated—flowing down her frame like water. She wasn’t the type to seek attention, but in this dress, with her hair swept back in soft waves and a delicate shimmer at her ears—she commanded it effortlessly.

And Maan noticed.

From the moment she stepped out of the car, he had been unnervingly quiet. Too quiet.

His dark gaze had flickered to her—once, twice—but never long enough for her to call him out on it.

But Geet had felt it.

Felt the weight of his silence.

The way his hand tightened just slightly around the car door when she stepped out.

The way his jaw flexed, as if suppressing a reaction.

He had said nothing. Just adjusted the cuff of his sharp black tux, slid a hand into his pocket, and offered his arm—as if the gesture was purely out of obligation.

But Geet wasn’t blind.

She had known Maan long enough to recognize that silence from him meant more than words ever could.

+++++

Geet walked beside Maan through the ballroom, her gaze sweeping over the same people who had once overlooked her.

She recognized them.

Because just months ago, she had been here—balancing trays, not drinks.

She had been invisible then.

Now, they saw her.

And Maan saw them seeing her.

His lips curved just slightly, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was sharper than ever.

He had always been hyper-aware of power dynamics.

And right now—the shift was undeniable.

Maan led them to the cocktail lounge section, standing beside her with an air of detached amusement.

Geet remained composed, but she couldn’t help herself—her mind immediately cataloged the guests with sharp, silent humor.

And then—she saw him.

The man in the navy suit.

The one who had once caused a scene over the wrong kind of tomato at an event she had catered.

Her lips twitched.

Maan caught it.

His gaze slid to her, brows raised in silent question.

Geet leaned slightly toward him, her voice low but casual.

“The one adjusting his cufflinks?” she murmured.

Maan took a sip from his untouched drink, following her gaze. “What about him?”

Geet’s expression remained neutral. “Three months ago, he threw a fit because his pasta had regular sauce instead of sauce made out of Italian heirloom tomatoes.”

Maan exhaled through his nose, his grip on the glass tightening slightly. “Of course he did,” he muttered dryly.

A low, rough chuckle escaped Maan.

It was brief. Barely there.

But it was real.

Geet blinked.

She hadn’t been expecting it.

He caught her staring and raised a brow. “What?”

Geet quickly looked away, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

Maan’s gaze lingered for half a second longer before he turned back toward the crowd.

But Geet…

She kept stealing glances at him.

Because for the first time that night, he didn’t look like the closed-off, unreadable CEO everyone knew.

For a brief moment—he just looked like Maan.

And Geet didn’t know what to do with that realization.

++++

The night had been long.

Geet stood behind Maan, slightly to the side, positioned just enough so that she was both present yet unseen—hidden by his broad frame, close enough that their quiet conversations weren’t overheard.

Her role tonight was secretarial—observing, taking mental notes, managing introductions.

She had expected it to be tedious.

What she hadn’t expected…

Was this level of entertainment.

She had barely been paying attention when a particularly glamorous high-society woman slinked up to Maan, her posture exuding confidence, her hands lingering far too long on his arm.

Her dress was stunning, yes, but the way she leaned into Maan, brushing invisible lint off his lapel, laughing a little too loudly at nothing—

Yeah. No.

Maan, for his part, was handling it like a pro—offering curt, disinterested replies, maintaining precisely zero engagement.

Geet watched in quiet fascination.

She knew Maan wasn’t naïve.

He was far too aware of his own appeal—of the effortless authority, the sharp intelligence, the kind of power that drew people in like moths to a flame.

But this?

This was just painful.

Finally, mercifully, the woman drifted away, leaving Maan standing there looking… tired.

And before Geet could stop herself, the words slipped out.

"Wow. Need a pepper spray?"

A quiet chuckle left her before she could suppress it.

Maan’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Something in his gaze shifted.

Like he hadn’t been expecting her to say anything—let alone something that dry.

His brows raised slightly, but there was a glint of intrigue in his expression.

Maan exhaled, voice low. “She’s Alezey. A very renowned lawyer. The family has a generational law firm, top law school. Said to be very sharp and intelligent.”

Geet hummed thoughtfully. “Must be. I wonder if the decision on when to stop injecting yourself with silicon requires intelligence or not.”

Silence.

Then—

Maan turned fully to her, his dark eyes assessing.

And then—

A quiet, unmistakable smirk.

He was impressed.

Geet fought the urge to smirk back.

+++++

Another person approached them—a polite, well-spoken businessman who greeted Maan warmly, almost too warmly.

The man’s words were pleasant. His gestures were polished.

But Geet…

She caught the way his eyes never quite matched his tone.

The way his smile felt just slightly stretched.

The way he lingered a second too long before moving on.

The moment he left, she murmured dryly—

“He clearly hates you.”

Maan’s smirk widened just slightly.

Finally. Someone who actually understood his point of view.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he remarked, swirling the drink in his glass lazily.

Geet shrugged. “Surprisingly, yes.”

Then, with perfect deadpan delivery she continues—

“Maybe I thrive on gossip and judgment toward others and then complain when people do the same to me. I’m shameless and a hypocrite.”

Maan let out a quiet, genuine chuckle.

And God, it was an attractive sound.

That low, rich amusement, the kind he rarely showed.

Something in her chest twisted uncomfortably.

She forced herself to stay neutral.

This was not the time to focus on that.

Because the next wave of pretentiousness was approaching.

And Geet?

She was going to enjoy every second of it.

++++

The gala was in full swing now.

The hum of polite conversation filled the ballroom, punctuated by the occasional chime of crystal glasses and carefully measured laughter—the kind that wasn’t quite real but perfectly practiced.

Geet stood beside Maan, slightly to the left, her drink held delicately between her fingers as she surveyed the battlefield.

Because that’s what this was—a battlefield.

Only, instead of swords and shields, the guests here fought with networking tactics, power plays, and strategically dropped names.

Maan, standing next to her, exuded his usual cold authority—sharp tux, untouchable air, and just enough detached amusement to let everyone know he was tolerating them, not engaging with them.

And Geet?

She was having fun.

++++

Maan and Geet stood near the polished marble bar, side by side but not too close, their postures relaxed yet alert. Their conversation had become a private game—one no one else in the room knew they were playing.

The gala had settled into its usual rhythm:
Exaggerated laughter. Careful alliances. Veiled insults disguised as compliments.

Maan took a sip of his whiskey, his voice low. “I give it ten seconds before that man fixes his pocket square again.”

Geet arched a brow, scanning the room before spotting the culprit. A stately-looking gentleman fussing with his already perfectly arranged pocket square.

She smirked. “Five seconds. Tops.”

They both waited.

The man in question lifted his champagne flute, nodded politely at a passing guest, and—just as predicted—his fingers twitched toward his pocket.

Geet bit her lip to keep from laughing. Maan hummed in satisfaction, shaking his head.

“Predictable.”

Geet exhaled dramatically. “This is too easy.”

Maan tilted his head slightly, already following her gaze. “Who’s next?”

She nodded toward a woman in an impossibly structured gown, her diamond necklace perfectly positioned to catch the light at ideal angles.

“She’s about to name-drop someone important.”

Maan tapped his glass. “Three names minimum.”

Geet grinned. “Five if she’s trying too hard.”

Sure enough, the woman turned to her companion, flourished a delicate hand, and—

“…and I simply must tell you, when I had lunch with Alaric Devereaux last week at his exclusive vineyard in Bordeaux…”

Geet exhaled sharply through her nose. “One.”

Maan chuckled, swirling his drink. “Let’s see if she hits five.”

“…and of course, the Rothschilds were there, such lovely people, but you know how eccentric they can be…”

Geet tapped the rim of her glass. “Two.”

Maan smirked. “Almost there.”

“…and darling, when Isabella Calloway mentioned her new private art collection…”

Geet lifted her drink. “Three.”

Maan took a slow sip. “Still room to grow.”

“…oh, and naturally, I ran into Jean-Pierre, you know, the designer who exclusively works with royalty…”

Maan exhaled, tilting his head. “Four.”

They waited, barely containing their amusement.

And then—

“…and my dear friend Arabella Westwood, she’s been positively dying to introduce me to the new Monaco elite…”

Both bit their lips looking away trying to stipple their laughter

++++

Maan’s eyes flicked toward a middle-aged man in an expensive suit, gesturing dramatically to a group of young executives.

"Five bucks says he’s explaining why the economy is on the verge of collapse, but only he knows how to survive it."

Geet didn’t even look up. "No bet. I already know he is."

Maan sighed, shaking his head. "I’ll raise it to ten if he says ‘smart diversification strategy’ in the next thirty seconds."

Geet leaned in slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "Twenty if he throws in ‘liquidity risk management’ just to sound impressive."

They both tuned in.

And then—

"…which is why, at this stage, if you’re not prioritizing a smart diversification strategy, then you’re practically inviting liquidity risk management problems into your portfolio."

Maan and Geet exchanged a glance.

Then, without a word, Maan pulled out a crisp twenty and handed it to her.

Geet tucked it into her purse with a satisfied smile. "Pleasure doing business with you, Sir."

He smirked looking satisfied

+++++

A woman in an exaggeratedly expensive dress was gesturing wildly, her voice carrying over the crowd.

Maan sighed. "This one?"

Geet nodded, already amused. "Her entire personality is ‘giving back.’"

Maan exhaled sharply. "I assume she first discovered charity when—"

"—her personal stylist quit, forcing her to reconsider the suffering of the working class?" Geet finished smoothly.

Maan bit back a smirk. "Tragic."

They both sipped their drinks at the same time, watching as the woman continued speaking—her diamonds catching the light with every exaggerated hand movement.

"How much do you think she actually donates?" Geet asked.

Maan tilted his head. "Enough to call it charity, but not enough to call it loss."

Geet let out a low chuckle. "Brilliant observation, Mr. Khurana."

Maan smirked. "I try, Miss Geet."

++++

Near the buffet, a guest was loudly critiquing the ‘subpar quality of truffle oil.’

Geet turned to Maan, voice utterly serious.

“Did you know? If truffle oil isn’t extracted by blindfolded French monks under the full moon, it’s not worth consuming.”

Maan exhaled sharply through his nose. “Tragic, really.”

Geet nodded solemnly. “Legend says true culinary perfection can only be achieved if the chef whispers compliments to the ingredients before cooking.”

Maan took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Then I fear we have all lived in ignorance.”

Geet barely contained her laughter, biting her lip. “We should write a book: ‘A Snob’s Guide to Fine Dining.’”

Maan raised his glass slightly. “Bestseller, without a doubt.”

++++

The night stretched on, but neither of them left the other’s side.

At some point, Maan casually leaned against the bar, his posture relaxed but his attention still on her.

"We make a good team," he mused.

Geet tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. "For mocking the elite? Absolutely. We should patent it."

Maan’s lips twitched. "We’d have to keep it quiet. It’s a cutthroat industry."

Geet hummed. "Shame. We could’ve been legendary."

Maan let out a quiet, genuine chuckle.

And for a moment, just a moment—there was no tension. No mind games. No unspoken battles.

Just the quiet, comfortable amusement of two people who understood each other in a room full of pretenders.

For now—that was enough.

And then—

She did it.

Without thinking. Without hesitation.

Her hand lifted automatically, fingers stretched out, palm open—a hi-five offered purely out of instinct.

A sheer, unguarded moment of enjoyment.

The kind that bypassed rational thought.

And the worst part?

Maan noticed.

Maan hesitated.

For a microsecond—just a blink—he stared at her hand, computing the absurdity of the situation.

But then—

He lifted his hand and responded.

A swift, light slap against her palm.

A real hi-five.

A shared moment of camaraderie.

And then—Geet realized.

She froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

She had just—

Hi-fived Maan.

Not just any boss.

Not just any person.

Maan.

The man who had been inescapable in her life for longer than she wanted to admit.

The man who had been there, somehow, in different capacities, in different moments—
Always just within reach, yet never fully hers.

The man who had made her world tilt at the worst and best of times.

And yet—

Here they were.

Hi-fiving.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her hand dropped immediately, fingers curling into a loose fist.

Maan, too, let his hand fall, his fingers flexing briefly before he picked up his drink.

Geet refused to look at him.

Because if she did—
If she met his eyes—
If she saw even the faintest flicker of amusement or realization—
She might actually combust.

But she felt it.

Felt the way the air around them shifted, charged with something neither of them had anticipated.

It wasn’t about the hi-five.

It was about everything it represented.

A moment of ease.
A moment of undeniable familiarity.
A moment that shouldn’t have happened, but did.

And now—

She had no idea what it meant.

Maan took a slow sip of his drink, finally breaking the silence.

“You look horrified.”

Geet swallowed hard, forcing a casual shrug. “I—just realized I hi-fived my boss.”

Maan hummed. “Not just any boss.”

Her eyes snapped to his.

He was watching her too closely, too knowingly.

Geet’s throat felt dry.

She tried for lightness, for damage control.

“Yes, well,” she muttered, clearing her throat, “it’s weird, right?”

Maan tilted his head slightly, considering.

Then—

“No.”

Her breath caught.

She blinked.

Wonderful wonderful update really fabulous 🤩 🤩

Very interesting update dear Neelu ☺️

Just loved it 🤗

Well I really loved the reactions of Maan and Geet on the whole Gala event and I really enjoyed how they were pulling legs 😂 of the people around

Though Geet was conscious as she has transformed a lot from the server in a party to a special Guest & this made her bit concious of her surroundings

Maan made it easier for her & their conversation & their friendship was really beautiful & the events were nicely penned ... Cracking jokes predictions & also the confidence they showed was really good

Waiting for more

Thanks for the PM 🙂

Continue soon 🤗

Part 12

Fabulous and Hilarious Update

Oh wow Maan and Geet certainly makes a perfect team

both already knowing what the person would talk about just to show off

Argh these two should just start dating already

12

wonderful n interesting update

geet was first hesitant but with passing time she enjoy being there at galla