Chapter 50

"What do you mean?"

Chirag throws his hands in an 'I don't know' gesture. "The new owners were in a tearing hurry to purchase this building, I assumed to use it as soon as possible. But strangely they have agreed to take over your tenancy till you complete the duration of your contract," he explains, while my heart starts thudding faster in excitement.

"Oh, is it?" I ask with a renewed vigour in my voice. A ray of hope springs up in my heart. This is good news. After he left, I read the letter from my landlady, which states that due to sale of property, the remaining duration of my tenancy is being transferred to the new owner.

Great! so I have six more months, which is enough to set up my business and find a new place. This time I won't mind the location as I will be working from home. This is really good news!!

------------

A persistent knocking on my door, wakes me from my deep slumber. At first, I assume it is a dream and burrow myself deeper under the blanket. But the knocking does not stop. I look at the wall clock, its one forty.

On peering through the gap made by the latch, I find an extremely distressed looking Jeet standing at the door. One look at his crestfallen face and messed hair, and all questions of what he is doing here at this hour, fade away. I open the door wider to let him in. He enters and slumps on the sofa. I take a seat next to him.

"What happened?" I ask worriedly. The next instant he envelops me in a bone crushing hug before breaking down in silent weeping.

"Captain died tonight."

His beloved dog.

"I could not even be there with him in his final moments. I am such a terrible person," he cries in anguish. I hold him in my arms, rocking him gently as he continues mourning. I am at a loss of words to console him, hugging him tighter instead. Jeet lifts his head, a despondent look on his face.

"He would never have left my side if I was sick, but I got so busy with work and left him alone in the hospital. Do you think, he believed I abandoned him?" his voice is fraught with despair, and my heart breaks for him.

"From what you told me last time, Captain was in a coma after his surgery," I offer solemnly, "But you still went to the hospital every day and he certainly must have felt your presence. You were waiting for him to get better and bring him home. But he was old, and it was time. He left this world knowing he was enormously loved by you." I hold Jeet's face in my hands, trying to assuage his guilt. He hugs me again and we sit like this for five minutes, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and I, stroking his back till he lets go, seemingly feeling better.

He sniffs, "I am terribly sorry for disturbing you at this hour," he smiles awkwardly. "After I left the Vet hospital, I could not bear the thought of going back home. I was driving around aimlessly and found myself here," he gives an embarrassed chuckle. "Your watchman saw my car and I guess, assumed that I returned from my 'business trip' and opened the gate for me. It would have been weird if I turned back."

"I am glad you came here. I know how devastatingly painful it is to lose a pet. Having someone to share your grief with, really helps," my hands clasp his, "tell me about Captain?"

"He was a tiny pup when we got him, hardly a few days old," Jeet smiles sadly, "he had probably wandered away from his litter and was lost. When I picked him up, he immediately snuggled to me and since then we have been best friends," his voice cracks as he struggles to stop himself from breaking down again.

I don't interrupt, allowing him to vent his grief. "We grew up together; he was my first pet. I got him just after my sixteenth birthday. He was such a happy, friendly and playful boy." Jeet whips out his phone, showing me photos of a smiling, adorable golden-brown indie dog, "You would have loved him."

"I most definitely would have." I smile, looking at the photos of Jeet with his dogs. He clearly loves them a lot. Jeet continues reminiscing Captain, narrating anecdotes of his antics till late into the night.

It's past three o'clock and I can no longer stay awake. Jeet settles himself on the couch, on my insistence. It's very late and he's too tired and emotionally exhausted to go home.

He is still sleeping when I leave for work. I adjust the blanket over him, lightly mussing his hair, causing it to fall over his face.

Late afternoon, my phones buzzes with a message from Jeet's phone. 'Thank you for last night.'

'You are welcome.' I reply with a smiley face.

'If you are free, would you join me for dinner on Saturday?'

'I am busy this month with handing over tasks and Rohit's wedding preparations.'

'What about next month then? I still have to keep my promise of taking you to Eats Real,' he insists.

Is this a date? Why is he asking? should I accept??

Relax.. he probably just wants to thank you for last night by taking you out for dinner. These rich people do it all the time, and he probably doesn't even consider it a date. Just a casual dinner with a friend. Inner voice reasons

'OK. First Saturday next month sounds good!' I type before I change my mind

'Great! Will see you there at seven thirty.'

---------------------------------------------------

At 7:25 on that Saturday evening as I stand outside the Bistro, I am a nervous wreck. Is it too late to cancel? I look at my compact mirror, adjusting my hair.

I reckon the long sleeve, navy blue wrap midi dress with a floral print paired with beige pumps, should be suitable enough for the fancy restaurant. I have left my hair open. Jewellery and makeup is the same as the launch. When I first saw myself, I was quite satisfied with my look.

But doubts creep up, as I walk towards the entrance. Do I look too plain? The patrons passing me look polished and sophisticated. What am I going to say to Jeet? Suddenly it feels as if we have nothing to discuss. All the time that we were together, it was either at each other's house or in office, so it was a relaxed atmosphere. What shall we discuss in a restaurant? I should have suggested we order take out and eat at home or better, simply declined his offer.

'Almost there, see you in five.' Jeet's message, banishes the thought of standing him up.

Nervously, I straighten my dress as I enter the canopied entrance of the restaurant. A pretty hostess in a crisp business suit, greets me in the waiting area. "Good evening, welcome to Eats Real. How may I assist you?" she rhetorically recites the spiel, lips pulled in a thin line to resemble something like a smile.

"I, uh, I am supposed to be mee..meeting someone here," I stammer, feeling inadequate under the young girl's disparaging gaze.

"Do you have a reservation?" she asks with a brittle smile, her pointed look suggesting that she does not believe me. She obviously knows designer wear and my outfit certainly is not, automatically classifying me as plebeian.

"Mr. Grewal.. Mr. Vikramjeet Grewal must have made a reservation. I am meeting him here today at seven thirty." The glint of derision in the girl's eyes flickers momentarily, as she checks the computer, before the condescending look returns.

"There is no reservation under that name. Maybe you confused Epic Taste Cafe, with this one. It's two streets away," she says, a little too sweetly to be genuine, her fake smile still frozen in place.

Just then Jeet enters, ending a phone call. Wearing grey jeans and a fitted black collarless shirt, he looks so sleek and smoking hot, my eyes start to water. Looking at him I gulp nervously, feeling even more self-conscious.

His eyes lock on to mine the instant he enters, and his face breaks into a huge smile, dimples dancing merrily in his clean shaven cheeks. I have to remind myself to breathe. I think I just heard the hostess take an audible gasp. Jeet, no doubt, is the ultimate thirst trap.

"Hi!" he grins appreciatively as he approaches me, "Wow! You look amazing," he whispers in awe, observing me from head to toe.

"Hi!" I whisper back, biting my lower lip to stop myself from giggling with glee at his compliment.

The hostess openly gawks at him, standing straighter, tucking her hair behind her ear as he walks towards her. "Good evening," he drawls, "could you please inform Arav, that Vicky is here?" At which the smitten girl simply nods, blushing profusely. She stammers the message on the phone, all the while throwing stealthy glances at Jeet. I could almost see the drool oozing from her mouth.

Arav Goram, the flamboyant celebrity chef and owner of this Bistro, arrives with a flourish, greeting Jeet in his loud, rambunctious voice he is famous for.

"Vicky, how nice to see you my friend!!" he wraps Jeet in a bear hug, clapping his back several times.

"Arav! so good to see you too!" says Jeet, once he had managed to wriggle out of Arav's hold.

"This is Tarana," he introduces me, without giving any further explanation.

"Enchanté mademoiselle," Arav grabs my hand, planting a loud kiss on the back, before turning back to Jeet. "I hope you enjoy the meal I have curated specially for you," he says.

"Anything you cook is a masterpiece, Arav. We are looking forward to tasting your creations," Jeet laughs.

Arav beams at the compliment, his large chest puffing a little wider. "Shireen, show my guests to the private VIP room upstairs," he commands to the hostess. Shireen quickly shuffles ahead, leading the way. Jeet casually places his hand at the small of my back as we follow the girl. Though it's a casual gesture, somehow it feels intimate and possessive at the same time.

While going up the flight of stairs, I glance at the restaurant below. Every individual dining area is nestled within high walled cubicles affording privacy to all patrons, essential in a place crawling with celebrities. But from this height, I can catch a glimpse of the people seated down. In one discreet corner, there is an upcoming cricketer with a young girl, looking very cosy. On another side is a famous actress from the nineties, sitting with her teenage kids and mother, all busy on their respective phones hardly looking at the food on their table. The restaurant is completely full, a nod to the popularity of the Bistro.

We are seated in a luxurious private room, with dimmed lights and soft classical music. A table for two, was set up with an exotic flower centerpiece and pretty taper candles in exquisite candle holders placed at the edge of the table. Shireen keeps fussing over the table cloth and napkins, I realise, wanting to catch Jeet's attention. He, however, has not shifted his gaze from me, hardly noticing the voluptuous beauty in the background. She clears her throat, which makes him break his gaze away from me, to look at her. "I hope everything is to your satisfaction Mr. Vicky," she breathes huskily, "if you need anything, you can press the buzzer to call the server or, you can call me directly on my mobile." She hands him a business card, smiling coquettishly.

Jeet pockets her card without looking at it, smirking in amusement, "Thank you Shireen, I am sure everything will be perfect under your supervision," he winks at her, making the poor girl blush, before she hurries out with a dreamy look on her face.

"If you just say the word, that girl will drop everything and follow you anywhere, you know? She looked so smitten with you," I tease.

"Is that so? I did not notice. How could I notice anyone else, when the most beautiful girl is in front of me?" he gives that beguiling smile that causes my face to heat up.

I clear my throat to rid the choking lump that arose at his words, "So, does this happen all the time? Girls throwing themselves at you; ready to jump in your bed at the first meeting. You must lead a very colourful life," I ask, choosing to ignore his not-so-subtle flirting.

Jeet throws back his head and lets out an amused laugh. "Does that bother you?" he asks, looking at me acutely but with a twinkle in his eyes.

I squirm under his powerful gaze, "Why should it? I was asking out of curiosity, as a... friend," I avoid looking at him instead devouring the amuse-bouche of crispy rice cracker topped with chilli coriander cream, ponzu gel and caviar.

"Contrary to what you think, I don't do one-night stands," he says, spearing a wild mushroom on his fork. "I have had some relationships in the past, but they were not serious. None of them made me want to have a life-long commitment."

He watches me with a penetrating look, "But now, things are different. Now, I want more than a casual fling."

My head snaps up in surprise, my fork frozen in mid-air.

"What do you mean?"