If You Could Stay

15. Kartik

I can't believe I am currently sitting on my office floor. I don't know what has gotten into me, but I couldn't get myself to say no when Naira asked me to eat with her. I couldn't stop thinking about the way her entire face filled with excitement once she had booked the venue. That smile of hers had lit up the entire room and I wanted to see it again.

So here I was, having dinner in my custom-made Tom Ford suit, on the floor.

I sat down in front of Naira and quirked an eyebrow up at her. She hadn't stopped looking at me ever since I stood from my desk. She cleared her throat and picked up one of the pasta dishes. Meticulously wrapping a few strands of spaghetti around a fork, she popped it into her mouth. As soon as the food touched her tongue, her eyes closed and her head tilted back in pleasure. I was mesmerized.

Her hair was in a messy bun, her dress wrinkled and dirty from sitting on the floor, and a little speckle of pasta sauce lined the corner of her lips.

I had never seen anything more stunning.

Naira has always been the picture of prim and proper. She carries a regal air everywhere she goes. Yet here, in front of me, she seemed to be in her natural habitat with all her defenses down. And against my better judgement, I found that exhilarating.

"Why aren't you eating? The food is delicious!" Naira excitedly claimed.

I picked up my kale salad and Naira narrowed her eyes.

"Did you not hear me? I said the food is delicious. Not the bowl of leaves. Put that down and grab some real food, Mr. Goenka."

I looked down at my salad and then back at Naira. "This is my dinner." I take a bite of my salad to prove my point.

"So you aren't eating anything else?" She frowns with genuine confusion.

"I can't." I freeze. I hadn't meant to say that.

Naira looks at me with questioning eyes. "Why not? You don't drink coffee. You won't eat any of this delicious food. What's holding you back, Mr. Goenka?"

I clench my jaw, my grip on my fork tightening. "No personal questions Miss Singhania. Remember the terms of our contract." I hated the way the frown on Naira's face deepened but I couldn't let her in any more than I already had.

Naira huffed with agitation. "Fine. Let's make another deal then—an answer for an answer. You ask me a question and I'll ask you one. It's a fair deal."

I tilted my head, amused. She was smart. "Fine." Curiosity got the better of me. "You tell me why you drink that atrocious pink drink every day and I'll tell you why I eat the way I do."

Naira held my gaze, then looked down at her plate with a small sigh.

"It was my mumma's favorite drink," Naira said hesitantly as though she was deciding whether or not to share this information with me even as it left her mouth. "The drink isn't usually offered on any coffee shop menus so you have to tell the barista the ingredients you want in it."

A small smile etched Naira's face. "I remember one time when I was younger, I tried to order one of the drinks. Of course, I didn't know the ingredients so it turned out absolutely disgusting and I threw the cup across the room in anger. Then mumma taught me how to order the drink."

She laughed softly and the corner of my mouth lifted in return, but I flattened it before she could notice.

"You miss her, don't you?"

Naira looked back at me, coming out of her trip down memory lane. "All the time. When I have the drink, it's like she's right here with me."

"She would be very proud of you if she could see you now, Miss Singhania."

Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears but her smile was one of happy memories. "Was that a compliment, Mr. Goenka?"

"It was the truth."

Our eyes held onto each other, a thousand unspoken words between us.

"You should smile more often Mr. Goenka. It looks good on you."

The warm comment hit me somewhere in my chest and rapidly spread through my veins. I cleared my throat and resumed my stoic face. I hadn't even realized I was smiling. I broke my gaze away from her while she took another bite of her pasta.

"Okay, your turn Mr. Goenka. Answer my question. Why don't you eat any real food."

I took a slow bite of my salad before answering. "Dietary restrictions."

Naira waited for me to go on but I just resumed eating.

"Hello mister, dietary restrictions...then what? Restrictions for what?"

"You asked for an answer, not an explanation. That was our deal," I said.

"But I explained my side of the story." Naira's voice rose in agitation.

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I didn't ask you to."

Naira gripped her fork in a death grip. "Kartik. Goenka. You are such a...I'm going to...ughh!" My lips tugged upwards into another small smile as Naira's face visibly turned red with frustration.

"If you're done with your tantrum, I would like to discuss work." I waited while Naira silently fumed. "I have hired all lights, decorations, and costume crew. As for the photographer...I think I have someone in mind. All you need now are the models."

Naira's eyes widened. "You did all that already?"

I scoffed. "What did you think I was doing? Sleeping at my desk?"

Naira muttered something to herself and stabbed at her food. I could have sworn she was picturing my face on her plate. With her next stab, a clump of spaghetti flew off the plate and landed right on my chest. Onto my very clean white shirt.

This was the second time since meeting this woman that she had ruined one of my favorite shirts. I clenched my fists and glared at Naira, whose face had gone completely pale.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. When I opened them again, Naira was grabbing napkins and scrambling to come clean my shirt.

"Stop, it's alright just—"

I could barely finish my sentence before Naira tripped over her own feet and fell towards me. I held onto her waist, my eyes wide. But the sheer force of her fall pushes us both backward onto the floor and she lands right on top of me, our limbs tangling together, her face stopping mere inches from mine. My eyes find hers and I find her looking at me in a way she never had before.

My heart starts racing as her grip on my collar tightens. Peonies and citrus invade my senses. She's so close. My eyes dip to her lips and she tenses against me.

"I—I should go. It's late." Naira scrambles off of me, grabs her heels, laptop, and purse and rushes out of my office. I'm still on the same spot on the ground, my heart racing and my mind wondering why I was suddenly missing the warmth she just took with her.