WIFE : BOUGHT AND PAID FOR

SHOT 19

Bhumi's POV:

"Ms. Basu, how did you meet Mr. Mehrotra?"

"Ms. Basu, is it true that you are getting married to Mr. Mehrotra?"

"Ms. Basu, how did you manage to lock down the all-time playboy?"

You people might be wondering what is going on here.

After lunch with the Mehrotra family, Gaurav uploaded some photos of us on his social media page, and finally the paparazzi got to know who the 'mystery girl' is.

The mystery girl being me!

When I reached my apartment this morning from the foster home, I was swarmed by the paparazzi. And J isn't here to protect me. Now I understood why Aryamann was adamant about me having a personal protection officer..

If J were here, he wouldn't have let these people get to me. One look from him would have been enough to scare the daylights out of them.

J has become a good friend over the days. But I still remember the detached J I met on the first day.

The paparazzi wouldn't have stood a chance against Jai Kapoor.

I mean, when did these people even wake up?

It's just seven in the morning, for crying out loud.

Did they just sleep here last night? That is entirely possible.

I have no idea how people get up early in the morning. That too on Mondays. I hate Mondays.

If not for the kids waking me up to spend time with me before I left the foster home, I would still be under the duvet, hugging my pillow and dreaming about my very handsome, non-existent prince charming.

What??

A girl can only dream!!

I at least got a prince charming in my dreams.

Real life sucks.

All I got is Aryamann Mehrotra and his arrogant attitude.

"Hang on! Hang on. One question at a time please. And yeah, I am not used to this. So please be a bit gentle with me," I asked, showing them my puppy face.

"Ms. Basu, how did you meet Mr. Mehrotra?" Reporter No. 1 asked.

"Oh, please don't call me Ms. Basu. I feel like a grumpy old lady. I am Bhumi," I said, flicking my hair in my usual style, and they looked at me weirdly.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I am a little weird. Haa, who am I kidding? I am a crazy weirdo. I know. I have been told many times. But I can't help it, dude. It is in my blood. So please bear with me," I said, and they looked at each other in confusion.

Now they don't have anything to ask me.

Okay, fine. Let me start the conversation.

"Okay, please introduce yourself. What's your name?" I asked a man who was in his mid-thirties.

"Why?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"What do you mean by why? Of course, I can't keep referring to you people as reporter no. 1, reporter no. 2. I need to know your names..." I said with a casual shrug.

"I am Kabir Basu," he said, and I smiled widely.

"You are a Basu. I am also a Basu. Same pinch," I said, pinching his arm, and he winced.

"As you are a Basu, I am adopting you as my brother," I said, and he looked at me in shock.

"Ah. How is Anjali bhabhi?" I asked, and his eyes widened in surprise.