The door of the bar was pushed open and the ornate, cast iron horse doorbell over it chimed lightly.
"The bar is closed," declared Mahi brusquely.
When he had newly opened the bar, a lot of times people used to barge in even after the closing time. He let them, fearing outright rejection. It was a new country and a new business after all. These weren't his people. He didn't know how to deal with them. But with time, he had learned the British ways well. He had mastered the art of being assertive, of having the last word in any argument, albeit, very politely.
"I actually saw this coming," said a voice in a crisp tone.
Mahi's body momentarily froze. He could never forget that voice. Or that man. He had always known that one day, Shivaay Singh Oberoi was going to walk in through the door of his bar. He just had not expected that day to come this early.
After hanging the champagne flute carefully on the holder, Mahi took a deep breath. Masking his face with an expression that didn't give away his surprise, he slowly turned around and looked at his brother.
Maintaining eye contact with him, Shivaay slowly walked towards the bar counter. He sat down on one of the bar stools. He didn't bother to remove his thick jacket or scarf. He kept his right elbow on the polished counter surface. Then, his one eyebrow arched slightly like it always did when he was thoroughly amused. However, Mahi couldn't tell if it was out of amusement or something else. And then, just like that, Shivaay's lips curled into a smirk.
Nothing had changed about Shivaay Singh Oberoi. Not his perfect features, not his aristocratic demeanour, not his icy personality and definitely not the arrogance.
Mahi remained quiet and let himself absorb the fact that Shivaay was actually sitting across him. Challenging him, Mahi also raised a similar eyebrow in question. As if silently asking what did Shivaay see coming.
Shivaay snorted in response. "Khanna was of the opinion that you will do nothing. He always said that you will waste all the money we send you. But I knew that you would open a bar."
Shivaay's eyes roved around the place and he smugly remarked, "Suits you."
Ignoring the snark in Shivaay's tone, Mahi rested his palms on the countertop and coolly questioned, "Well. What can one say? A brother will know me the best."
Shivaay's face remained unreadable. He flicked his hand. "Indeed."
"Anyway," Mahi changed the topic. "What do you want today? Gin and Tonic? Vodka? Scotch? Champagne? Some vintage wine?"
Shivaay removed his scarf and carelessly placed it on the side stool. Keeping the smirk intact, he replied or rather challenged, "Make me your best drink."
Not the one to cower, Mahi smiled to himself. He bent down and opened a secret shelf. He retrieved a scotch bottle from the shelf, placed it in front of Shivaay. His chest puffed up as he pompously proclaimed, "A rare Glenfiddich single malt Scotch whiskey that has been aged for twenty-six years."
"Impressive!" Shivaay gave him a small, appreciative nod.
"I had saved this for a special occasion," remarked Mahi. He proceeded to pour the golden liquid into two crystal bottom glasses and then added some water. Swirling the liquid a little, he let it coat the glass. He then pushed the glass towards Shivaay and quipped, "And I guess, Shivaay Singh Oberoi walking in my humble bar counts as one. So, cheers!"
Shivaay clinked his glass with him. "Cheers."
Mahi quietly watched Shivaay with absolute glee. As the scotch burned his throat, his facial features contorted into a grimace. Shivaay pressed a palm over his lips firmly and grunted as if someone had choked him.
