Arnav was begrudgingly impressed. Nani had been careful to tell each family about his diabetes, but only one of the other girls had remembered. The rest had either reacted with shock at a gentle reminder or left him to discover the sugar in his drink when he sipped it.
The photo didn't do her justice, he realised.
It hadn't managed to capture the lustre of her hair, the brightness of her eyes, or the genuine emotion behind her smile.
She made conversation with his family easily, switching between talking of her studies, her hobbies, and her plans for the future. Arnav watched as she tempered her Bua-ji's exuberance, gently nudged her sister into the conversation, and engaged Nani and Di in a debate about the best embroiders in Lucknow. Her arrival had changed the mood almost instantly – even Aakash had lost his bored stupor and was smiling at her jokes.
She ignored him thoroughly, and he was surprised by how much it bothered him.
"Arnav-babua," her Bua-ji's voice broke into his thoughts, "What is it ... exactly ... that you do?"
"I own AR Group. We have a TV channel and a few factories. We're best known for our textiles company, AR Designs."
Mrs Gupta blinked at him, "So you make clothes?"
"We design clothes and jewellery, yes."
"Jiji, Garima-ji," Mr Gupta fought a smile, "his company makes designer clothes, the ones the film stars wear. The ones you see on the TV, on the fashion shows."
"On those stick-like models with the hollow cheeks?" her Bua-ji's whispered comment to Mrs Gupta seemed to echo around the room.
"There was an article about Chhote, uhh Arnav, in Forbes India recently," Di, always eager to praise him, interjected, "and he might even make the Thirty under 30 list this year. He did his MBA at Harvard."
Arnav grimaced at her casual use of his annoying petname in front of strangers. He glanced at the girl, noting that she was fiddling with her dupatta instead of looking at him.
"Oh that's very good," gushed her Bua-ji, "Our Lallan, from the neighbourhood, he also went to Haridwar. You must have studied the Holy Texts."
"I studied Business at Harvard, in America," Arnav bit out, "not Haridwar."
Di stifled a giggle as the girl's Bua-ji subsided, settling back into her seat with her tea.
"I saw, in the newspaper, that you're building a factory in Lucknow."
He clenched his fist, disliking Mr Gupta's reminder of his recent trip to Lucknow. He'd forced himself to return to that hated city one last time, to finalise the purchase of Sheesh Mahal from his treacherous Chacha. Out of the corner of his eye, Arnav saw Aakash move as if to place a calming hand to his shoulder, but his cousin rethought the action and retracted his hand before he made contact.
"I recently acquired land in Lucknow," he said simply, "We're planning to build a textiles factory there. I think the factory could ..."
He'd been watching the girl discreetly, still irrationally annoyed by her lack of attention, and trailed off as he caught her peeking in his direction from under her lashes. His heart seemed to skip a beat. Sipping from his cup to cover his stumble, Arnav was surprised to find the tea was deliciously spiced. He drank the rest slowly, relishing the taste, and idly wondered if he'd ever have the chance to taste it again.
Focus. Arnav Singh Raizada writes his own destiny. And there's no room in it for this girl ... or her tea.
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RISHTAA: An Arranged Love (IPKKND AU) **ON HIATUS**
Fanfiction**ON HIATUS** (IPKKND AU) This is no longer the story of a girl who crashed a fashion show and a man who thought she was a corporate spy. It's her last year of college, and Khushi's family are looking for a husband for their youngest daughter. S...
