Disguised Darling|✓

Episode 13

It has been two weeks, two weeks and three days to be precise since Mishti has entered Samrat’ house as his personal chef and got to know him as much as she could externally because there is still a long way to get to know his heart.

Apart from the usual demand from extremely complex dishes that Mishti has to watch the recipes for on YouTube for hours straight, there is nothing that he does that is remotely close to unpleasant. As opposed to whatever her friends had said about the divorced man or the articles had written about him, Mishti doesn’t find any resemblance between the real-life Samrat and Samrat of the tabloids. He’s snarky, yes, but not cruel. He takes his time to get impressed but gets to it eventually. He’s polite with his staff, especially with Vivek but Mishti doesn’t mind because she too is somewhere in the queue. Recently Samrat and her have found a new way to converse – through banters. Healthy banters that erupt after the lunch when he subtly has to say the food was good but doesn’t quite want to put it out like that, and so he’d say, “You’re learning day by day, aren’t you? Can’t say the food was too salty this time’ to which Mishti would reply, “Had it been some Michelin star chef, they would expect a fully worded compliment, it’s good that I don’t!” she’d sass.

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Not at all?” Samrat’s lips would quirk up at that while Mishti squints her eyes.

“No!”

“Well, it was fine, I guess. The food.” 

And he’d end that with a teasing glint in his eyes, both the gaze and the words making Mishti preen under them though she’ll still maintain her nonchalant façade.

So, the fact that it is already time to get on with the second task and complete it, hurts her like nothing else. 

Mishti doesn’t want to do it. She doesn’t think she’ll once again be able to see suspicion or doubt in those eyes ever again when she’s already seen that teasing glint or better, the serenity in them. 

The work is pretty simple for someone like her who has carried out riskier tasks; she has to transfer all the funds, a total of four crore rupees that Samrat had kept aside to buy Singhania’s shares, to her account that she has further will send to the agency by hacking his mobile and back account.

It’s worse than last time, so much worse, not only because the amount is massive but because she doesn’t know how to help him this time. Last time, her brother to protect her had unknowingly saved Samrat from any potential sorrow that he could’ve faced because of his stolen watch, it was a different thing that he wasn’t so much bothered about the watch as much as he was with the thought of Mishti stealing it and lying to him about it. 

This is another thing that gnawing inside her chest. 

She doesn’t want to lie to him. He hates it. He hates liars and Mishti doesn’t want to be someone he hates.

A thought occurs in her mind, but as soon as it comes, it has to go, because no, there won’t be any good in talking to her brother about it. Sure, he would understand if she told him that she doesn’t want to do this task, she can’t do it, because he’s one amazing brother but that won’t stop the task from happening. It’ll probably be Ruhi who’ll come in her place and carry out the task. If not her then someone else. 

She has no choice. She’ll have to do it.

And so Mishti finds herself entering Samrat’s room at two in the morning, the sound of him snoring audible to her ears as she tiptoes, closing the door behind her. She chose this time not because Samrat sleeps so late, no, like a systematic man he is, he sleeps at 11 every night, and before 12 if he has some work to do. It’s his valet, that Vivek who doesn’t sleep and plays temple run on his phone till late, all the while practising some singing for the concert he presents in his dreams. Mishti knows all this because her room is right beside the valet’s, the walls not being as soundproof as they should be for such a luxurious villa.