The sun had long gone down as they sat in the study, going over the finer details. Anika had taken care of most of the wedding preparations but she had needed a final consult with Shivaay before the big day. They sat in tensed silence, reviewing seating arrangements, menus and logistics of the wedding. In fact, Shivaay let Anika do most of the talking and deciding. He'd left Anika in charge of steering the wedding bandwagon, not only because she was incredibly competent and efficient but also because he found himself losing interest in his upcoming nuptials with each passing day.
He watched her organize her notes, marking his opinions, crossing and checking items of a long list. A routine business meeting. Nothing he hadn't attended a hundred times before but then why did he feel like a teenage boy who had just hit puberty?
"These are the personalized gift packages for the Tier A guests?" she asked, looking up. "They are." She was kneeling on the floor going through the sample hampers. She was wearing a baby blue button down kurta, her hair tied up in a half hazard knot, tendrils escaping. She had no make-up on but then again, she never needed any. Shivaay marveled at how comfortable she was in her own skin. No pretense or airs about herself. He had grown up in the crme del a crme of society, rubbing shoulders with the best industrialists during the day and sharing sheets with stunning models at night. He was engaged to one such model and he knew exactly how much time and effort his social class put into looking perfect.
As Shivaay discreetly observed the beautiful girl on the floor, he realised how perfect she was without even trying. Her clothes were ordinary, made of cotton with no fuss or seductive allure. And yet he was itching to push her down and slowly undo each button. He could almost imagine her reaction to that. Her warm brown eyes would go wide with surprise and her breath would hitch. Based on the drowsy look she got every time he got close to her, Shivaay knew she wasn't immune to him either. With his thoughts taking a dangerous turn, he forced himself to look away from her face, onto something safer: the press release prints spread before her, which they'd already assessed before.
"Replace the champagne with wine for the afternoon lunch on the 20th. It pairs better with the food that is being served and it's a brunch setting so champagne seems like overkill. And take escargot off the menu. I know some of our guests are French but I draw the line at serving snails."
Anika twisted her face at the mention of snails. "I don't understand rich people. You have the money to buy all the tandoori chicken and rabdi in the world and you pay exorbitantly for fish eggs, hard, black mushrooms and ghonghe. Yuck."
"Ghon- what? Language, Anika.
"What do you think about the dcor for the cocktail party?" he asked, loosening his tie.
"The sangeet party? It's nice," she said slowly. "I mean, Tia wanted the cream and white roses theme to run central and it does look lovely."
"But...?"
"Don't take this the wrong way. I'm sure Tia has more knowledge of high society tastes than I do but it's a sangeet party, na? People must dance and have fun and how is that possible if there are 4 feet long candles lit every two feet? Sangeet parties should be jhataak and phaadoo, right?.
"Language, Anika!"
His rebuke landed on deaf ears because she made a "hmpphh" sound and went back to examining another long list. These private meetings of theirs were his favorite part of his day. He enjoyed listening to her talk about wedding details. Very often she would lose track of the purpose of the conversation and provide snippets of her personal life. And while he had no idea what Tia's favourite cuisine was, he knew Sahil's class teacher's name, that Anika didn't like the kiranhe wala next to her home because he always tried to cheat her, that she hated turnips and loved Shahrukh Khan, her favourite song was "Tune O Rangeele" and how she wanted to open her own restaurant some day. He wondered now how he'd ever thought of her as anything but intelligent, quickwitted and creative. She constantly challenged and surprised him with her enthusiasm and courage. He was perpetually swinging between wanting to throttle her neck and kissing her senseless.
"You're staring at me," she murmured. "I can't seem to stop." He blurted out. A red flush came over her she bent her head, trying to hide her face. Shivaay didn't know what had got into him but it was all he thought of these days, her body, her temerity, her laughs. He needed an out, he was getting married for god's sake.
"I think we're done for today," he said abruptly. "You can get started and any further questions can be handled by Tia. Don't bother me with questions of linens and cutlery. I pay you for that precise reason." Without waiting for an answer, he rose and walked to the door and held it open, wanting to make her leave as soon as possible. She rose shakily, gathering the scattered material, seeming almost hurt by his sudden change in demeanor. Shivaay felt like an ass. She put him on edge and around her, he always felt like he was seconds away from losing his hard earned control.
"Why do you always do that?" She was kneeling on the carpet and gathering her things, her back to him. "Just as I think we're getting somewhere, you take it all away. You show me time and time again how you can walk away. Your mood swings are giving me a whiplash. And it just hurts now, Shivaay."
She turned around to look at him and Shivaay felt his world collapse around him. His brave, beautiful girl had tears in her eyes and he felt the irrational urge to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
She started walking towards the door, her eyes downcast.
"Let her go, just let her go. It'll be better for everyone this way." Shivaay told himself. But involuntarily, his hand rose and slammed the door shut while catching her and pressing her into the nearest wall.
"What are yo-?"
"Shhh.. You talk too much. I'm trying to make up for being so ill-tempered, sweetheart."
He nuzzled her jawline, breathing in her scent. All these months.
"Shivaay, please. I want..."
He was nibbling on her ear now, slowly watching her lose her sanity.
"Shivaay, yes? Or Shivaay, no?" He teased.
"Shivaay, more. Please, just more." She cried brokenly.
He kissed her hard then. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have been gentle in that moment. Because there was nothing gentle about what he felt for her. She dug under his shirt and dragged it free, clinging to him. She was making soft, beautiful sounds that were driving him insane. He needed to look at her,
"Open your eyes," he ordered. She only squeezed her eyes shut tighter. "Open your eyes, Anika or I'll stop." He did stop. She whimpered in protest. Her eyelids fluttered open but she looked resolutely down.
"Look at me." Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his. And Shivaay saw all that he needed to see. Those brown eyes ruled his universe. Did she not know that?
Slowly he bent down to rain baby kisses all over her precious face. He teased the corner of her mouth, drawing a line from her cheek to her collar bone. Everything reflected in her gaze: shyness, love, desire. She dug her hands into his hair and pulled him down for another kiss.
"Mine." She whispered.
"All yours." He whispered back.
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