“No, I should thank you,“ Suraj replied, nodding approvingly at her. “I’ll reflect on what you said. It is not that I don’t love my son, Vera. It’s just that he’s disappointed me one too many times.”
“Maybe he’s only seen your disappointment, not your love,” Vera softly suggested, finally returning Suraj’s smile with one of her own.
When she left Reed & Co.’s offices, it was with a lightness she hadn’t expected to feel. Even the unexpected presence of Vihaan’s slimy cousin who’d been loitering outside Suraj’s office couldn’t douse the beam of happiness radiating from her.
She had money for Nanu’s treatment, she knew exactly where to get more. Additionally, it looked like Vihaan’s relationship with his father might improve given the conversation she’d just had.
She was in love; she had a plan and everything was absolutely wonderful.
27
Gifts
Vera
“Here you go, Ma’am.Please sign here.”
Vera accepted the bouquet, silently signing the receipt for the delivery person. She nodded when the young man wished her a good day before leaving her there, struggling to ignore the stares of all her office mates.
She barely held back a sigh when she turned towards her table. Except for the space allotted for her computer, her notebook and keyboard, every possible inch of her desk was covered with bouquets. Lavenders and roses, calla lilies, carnations, daisies—you name it and the flower was there. At one point, she’d had to look up names of some of the blooms she’d received. She cast a glance at the peonies in her arms, their sweet scent filling her nostrils. Where the hell was she going to put them? The only remaining place was on her head or up the ass of the person she knew was responsible for turning her workstation into a greenhouse.
“More flowers?” someone asked.
Her team members were staring from above their respective desks. Who wouldn’t? She’d gotten a bouquet every day this week and they kept getting bigger and more ostentatious.
“New boyfriend trying to impress you?” her script writer asked, wiggling her brows in excitement, hoping for a new piece of gossip straight from the source.
“No, no. I don’t. . . I. . . uh. . .”
“Ms. Talwar?”
She spun around, quietly groaning when a new delivery boy came up to her, one she recognized.
“Your coffee and breakfast order is here,” he cheerfully told her, handing her a brown paper bag and a large cup with the swirly logo of the cafe next door.
The scent of coffee, cinnamon, and croissants competed with the flowers in her hand.
She dared a look at her team, noting even more people in the farthest corners of the office watching her. Some were standing, others craning their necks past the corner of their cubicles to catch a glimpse of the breakfast she’d received today.
“Looks like someonereallywants people to know that you have a boyfriend,” Jay muttered from his spot where he was previously running lines with the script writer. When Vera glared at him, he smiled innocently, as if he hadn’t thrown a spotlight on her again.
“So youdohave a boyfriend?” her junior asked.
“It’s not like th—Oh look! I have a meeting with the boss,” Vera squeaked, tapping her screen for emphasis. No one needed to know that she was pointing at a wallpaper of a sloth eating a strawberry. Without bothering to put the flowers or her coffee down, she stalked down the hallway, right past Laila’s desk. She was in no mood to speak with Vihaan’s PA. Only Vihaan. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d listen.
To her surprise, and relief, Laila didn’t call after her, meaning that Vihaan wasn’t in a meeting. Still, she knocked on his door for goodmeasure, waiting until she heard his baritone rumble. She stepped in just as he raised his head from the files he was marking.
“Lock the door.”
Vera stopped mid-step, confused by the order. “Why?”
Placing his pen down, Vihaan shot her a grin. “Because I can tell from the stubborn set of your lower lip that you are itching to fight with me about something. Since I do enjoy arguing with you, I’d rather that we not get interrupted. So, lock the door.”
She rolled her eyes to try to cover up the little tremble in her belly at his ability to read her so well.
“I assume this isn’t about the ad campaign meeting we have with Mr. Gill in an hour?” Vihaan asked.
“It’s not.” She reached behind her and turned the lock, just as she complained, “You sent me flowers.”