Annika Mehra has a hundred things she needs to take care of: her business, her sister, her familial responsibilities and quite a few things she would rather forget.
The unfortunate circumstances which entangle the lives of an unorganised and energe...
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My foot tapped impatiently as my eyes merely perused the menu and my left index tapped the tablecloth. Mr. Oberoi had gotten us a private cubicle on the terrace. The warm flames from the candles were a welcoming contrast to the cold breeze that wafted in through the air vents.
"Miss Mehra," Mr. Oberoi's voice startled me in tipping over the fork.
"Shit!" I bit my tongue, bending down to pick it up.
"Don't," Mr. Oberoi rolled his eyes. He raised a hand, his wrists on the edge of table and a waiter walked forward, hurriedly picking up the fork and walking away with a quick apology.
"I could've picked it up myself," I arched an eyebrow.
Mr. Oberoi shrugged. "Have you chosen what you want to eat?"
I straightened, chewing my lower lip as my eyebrows furrowed in a crease. "No," I mumbled. "I'm not hungry."
"Miss Mehra," Mr. Oberoi sighed as the waiter returned. "Mind if I order for you, darling?" I looked at him, puzzled. He merely glanced discreetly in the direction of the waiter.
I gave him a dazzling smile, "Not at all, sweetheart."
Mr. Oberoi ran his finger over his lip, before he turned to the waiter, "Get us the crab soup for the entrée ." He glanced at me, and I merely blinked to acquiesce my okay. "The honey barbecue shrimps and sticky white rice for the main course." He closed the menu and handed it back to the waiter, glancing at me with a grin, "We'll decide on the dessert later."
I merely rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smile as the waiter looked at him and me before leaving with a scandalised look on his face.
"Seriously?" I giggled.
He shrugged, a corner of his lips twitching upwards at one corner. "What did you want to talk to me, about?" He placed his hands on the table, folding his hands.
My smile disappeared, and I sighed. Reaching down into my handbag, I pulled out the file and handed it to him. His questioning raise of an eyebrow prompted me to gulp down the entire glass of water. "Pehle paad lijiye."
"Kyun? Kya hain isme?" He frowned, but nonetheless opened the file. A few seconds passed, before he looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. "You want to form a deal with Oberoi Industries?"
"Arshana does," I corrected him.
"To produce the perfumes for Arshana," he nodded slowly. "Any particular reason we were selected?"
I frowned. "You've done it before." I inclined my head, "I'd say the deal would be beneficial for the both of us."
"And are we the only ones you've talked to?" He glanced down at the papers.
"That is information I shall not be disclosing. Whether or not you choose the deal will be based on your views: if you deem it to be profitable, then we proceed." I mimicked his stance: elbows on the table and hands folded in front. "If not, I still extend my sincere gratitude that you considered our offer."
