My Mr. Artist

Chapter 24

Kiyah

"Isn't this place beautiful? Saira loves the view from here! Oh—let's sit over in that corner, it's got the best view!" I announced dramatically, leading the way even though it was my first time ever stepping foot here. The manager guided us to the private section I had booked earlier that afternoon.

Saira walked beside me in complete silence, simply cooperating while the two men—Saransh and Ishaan—followed behind.

We finally settled down, Saira and I on one side, the men on the other. I tried to keep the conversation alive, talking about anything that crossed my mind, but every topic eventually fizzled into an awkward silence. By the time the starters arrived, I knew it was time for phase two.

"I'll just head to the restroom. You guys carry on," I said casually, ignoring Saira's pleading eyes, Saransh's confused frown, and Ishaan's calm, curious glance. I got up and walked toward the exit that led outside.

While pretending to check my bag, I quickly typed a message on my phone:

Come to the parking area with some excuse.

He would understand. I once had a rather refined taste in dating, and intelligence was a non-negotiable.

"Now... which one was his car?" I muttered, scanning the row of vehicles. I hadn't brought my own—since we'd all come together in Saransh's car. My original plan was to arrive with Saira and Ishaan, make sure their date began smoothly, then sneak away halfway through and take a cab home. But, as usual, someone had to ruin everything.

"Found it," I said under my breath, spotting the familiar black sedan. Leaning casually against its door, I waited for my 'partner in crime.'

"Should I text Saira to come too?"

I almost jumped. Saransh appeared out of nowhere, directly in front of me. He was looking down at his phone, typing something, his tone deceptively calm.

I blinked at him in disbelief. What did he said? And....Did I really once worship this man? What happened to his IQ?

God bless him. No, God bless me.

Before he could press send, I snatched his phone away. His head shot up, eyes wide.

"What? My sister's alone with him! We should help her out," he said, voice laced with mock sympathy—as if he was truly the world's most devoted brother.

I rolled my eyes. "Mr. Awasthi, who exactly is she with right now?" I asked, plastering on my best professional smile while holding his phone behind my back.

He first glanced briefly at my lips, then at my hidden hand, and sighed in defeat.

"Ishaan," he muttered.

"And who is Ishaan to Saira?"

He didn't answer—just stared. I waited patiently.

"Her fiancé," he finally said through gritted teeth, barely audible.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it. Could you repeat that?" I asked, blinking innocently, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.

He exhaled sharply, clearly done with me. "Okay, I get it. Now let's go—you must be hungry, right?"

Before I could protest, he turned, opened the car door for me like a perfect gentleman, and waited. I hesitated, still processing, then sat down automatically. Only when he started the engine did it hit me. Wait... I've been tricked.