"Your mouth can be used in different ways, like kis--" Before Shubman could finish his sentence, a sharp noise cut him short.
Both looked towards the source of the noise. There was a broken showpiece on the floor, and an orange cat was sitting over the cabinets, wagging its tail, being quite proud of its work.
"Damn, Spider, you ruined the moment."
Shubman said stepping back from Ishan and walking towards the cat.
Ishan noticed the change in his tone.
'Is he bipolar or something?' he thought
Spider was Shubman's cat, more precisely his baby. (Ishan's competition 🗿)
Shubman scooped Spider in his arms and said, "You just broke an antique piece that I brought from Germany."
Spider could not care any less about the antiqueness of the object; if he decided to do something, he would do it. After all, he was an orange cat, so such behavior was expected. Also, he was a spoiled cat; he had his own room and was allowed to do whatever he wanted because who was going to stop him? He got Shubman's attention, and that was it!
With Spider in his arms, Shubman turned around to look at Ishan and, with a neutral tone, said, "Come downstairs."
"I am leaving from here," Ishan announced firmly. There was no reason for him to stay in a stranger's house, especially when that stranger was actually behaving strangely.
Spider gave a low meow, looking at Ishan. Spider might not have liked this person who got cute looks (Spider's potential competition) and was also getting his owner's attention.
"No, you are not, at least not right now," Shubman told him, a smile threatening to break on his face, or more like a smirk.
"I am, and who is going to stop me?" Ishan exclaimed, growing more frustrated.
"Well, the guards I hire are not just for show," he let the little smirky smile show on his face. And with that, he left the room, whispering something into Spidey's ear.
One thing Ishan knew: whoever this person was, he was very rich, as he took in his surroundings in the room where he was standing. The pastel colors gave it an elegant look. And not just the room; that tall man emanated an aura which screamed 'old money' and 'influential.'
'What does he have to do with me?' he thought as he walked down the spiral staircase; the wooden polished railing was smooth and cool under his palm.
When he reached the living room, he looked around, taking in the expanse and beauty of the space. As an artist himself, Ishan was quite impressed by the artistic theme. He remembered the other men calling it a mansion because, indeed, it was a mansion.
He attempted to locate the main door, but upon finding it, he realized he couldn't leave the mansion of his own will. The main door was truly immense and intimidating, and the digital security lock didn't resemble a standard one.
Shubman stood near the dining table, staring at Ishan as he navigated his way towards him.
"I want to go home," he said, mustering as much politeness as he could.
"Don't you want to have breakfast with me, darling?"
"No," Ishan replied curtly, "and why are you calling me 'darling'?"
"You don't like that? Ah, then what about 'Jaan'? 'Meri jaan'?" He asked curiously.
If staring at someone intensely and angrily could kill, Shubman might be dead by now. Ishan was not going to put up with his nonsense.
Shubman sensed Ishan's anger and raised one hand in a surrendering manner. "Okay... okay... at least have this drink. It will help with the hangover," he said, pointing towards a glass filled with something like a hangover cocktail.
