Book 4 in the Proposal Series.
YUGANTIKA IYENGAR
"You cannot fight your doom. It will fucking destroy you, Pookie."
She laughed, wrecking it deep within her guts. A voice that could slice through all the weak hearts. "No one can bring doom on me."...
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Yugantika Iyengar was unfinished business.
A constant nag of impending tasks left one in apprehension, irate, and angst. Hindering all others, she was the only one to take over one's mind—a task so hard to ignore. Overshadowing, overbearing, overstraining, and unmatched.
She made him lose focus a little too frequently, just like the previous night.
"...I thought coming here would ease this meeting. The last-moment change did surprise me..."
He could focus on nothing but her sitting behind them, barely containing her amusement. If not her evil plotting, her presence in his vicinity should be considered the blaring alarm—a vicious sound that left one bothered, almost near a headache.
Dressed in what was considered to be the color of goodness, associated with angels, Yugantika had the personality to make white look pure evil.
"...Sending those flowers was a sweet gesture, Tushar. I did not expect you to be this forthcoming..."
He wasn't. But a certain someone with an intruding pair of eyes was.
He was supposed to talk to this woman, keep her entertained for a few hours, and send her on her own way while he thought of his way out. If only his mind could stray away from that sneaky pleasure coursing through his newfound enemy's face. While his date was the epitome of perfection, he was occupied thinking about a woman who gave icebergs a run for their money. She was hardly showing, too deep and hidden inside the vast ocean. Showing none of who she actually was.
Yugantika. He sighed at the name that kept popping into his mind every now and then.
"You are welcome." He nodded at his grandmother's choice. Alana Vashisht should be the only woman he thought about, at least for the next hour as he drove her out and straight into the arms of another man or another planet to avoid this marriage. All these years, he had abstained from marriage for a reason. He wouldn't agree just now.
"Would you like to order, sir?" The waiter excused them, bowing as he refilled their wine glasses.
Tushar was glad for this interruption. The woman kept speaking, for better or worse, explaining things he had no will to hear. Why should listening to her baggage delivery to her hotel room be any of his concern?
He had no choice but to sit and focus. There should be bits and pieces this ever-speaking woman left in her words that could make him send her away back to the university she taught.
"Go first, Miss Vashisht." He gestured towards the menu, and she smiled at the attention.
Blue, definitely blue eyes. Her eyes filtered through the leather-bound menu at the creative names arranged to entice an appetite. She was what any mother wanted for her son. The aqua-blue eyes displayed the depth of running water. Her lips were full and her teeth perfectly straight. Her black hair with highlights of burgundy cascaded over her shoulders in loose curls. Her pale, flawless skin contrasted with her dark features. A good jawline and a full figure, dressed in what he could identify as the fall collection of an established designer. A perfect, eloquent, and ideal daughter of a man who could be good for business.
