Page 58 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Have you seen my wallet, babe?” I asked, startling myself with the question.

“I think I saw it by the TV on the console,” she replied in a completely composed tone and stepped around me to retrieve it.

She handed it to me with a smile, but I didn’t return one.

I was no stranger to having women in my home, my hotel rooms, my bedroom. But never once had I felt comfortable sharing such an intimate behavior with anyone else. My things were my own, as was my concern with them. The stringent need to maintain this strict line of separation somehow seemed redundant when I was with Sona. My qualms about sharing my life—and my most intimate spaces—dissipated at the sight of her sweet smile.

The thought disconcerted me.

As we settled at the table, the loud trill of my phone shattered the silence of the suite. Thankful for the temporary diversion, I excused myself to answer the work call.

When I realized I’d be held up for more than a minute, I poked my head into the living area. “You start, babe. I’ll join you soon,” I said to Sona.

She smiled. “Take your time. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t,” I blurted the command. “I know you’re hungry, and I don’t want you waiting for me.”

Back in the suite’s bedroom, I opened my laptop to access the data that required my input. In my hyperfocus mode, I lost track of time and kept talking on the phone while perusing the spreadsheets that kept appearing on my laptop until the doorbell dinged again.

I heard Sona and a courteous male voice outside, then a soft click of the door closing. I continued to work until Sona walked in and stood with a hand on her hip and a tender smile on her lips.

I held up an apologetic finger while I finally ended the call.

“Time for dinner,” Sona said, leaning in and taking the laptop off me.

“Sorry, that took long,” I said and pulled my legs off the bed. Gripping her wrist, I pressed a firm kiss on her cheek.

A different set of platters greeted me at the dining table. The warmth and aroma emanating from the food told me it was freshly prepared. Sona placed a plate with a stacked burger before me and the silverware around it.

“The food got cold so I reordered,” she said, unfolding a napkin and elegantly placing it in her lap.

Entranced and stupefied, I tried to wrap my head around the bizarre occurrence. I was unaccustomed to this kind of coddling from my former partners, not for lack of trying on their part, but because I actively discouraged it.

“I’m not used to this,” I declared in a grave voice. “I don’t need you to serve me, Sona.”

She looked up with raised brows. “Serve you? Do you mean care for you?” she corrected with a smug grin. “Doing something nice for someone you care about doesn’t amount to servitude, now, does it?”

My spinning head steadied while her grin grew wider.

“Ah, I see!” she said as if she’d discovered a secret.

Placing her napkin on the table, she stood and came around me. I watched as she poured me the wine she had ordered, then dropped a kiss on my cheek.

“You are a giver, Mihir,” she said, retaking her seat. “There a two kinds of people: givers and takers,” she explained as she poured herself a glass of sparkling water. “That’s what my life coach advised me. Givers thrive when they are giving.”

“Giving what?” I inquired with curiosity.

“Love, emotional support, kindness, physical help, material gifts. It could be anything. But givers are the most comfortable when they are providing for the people around them. They feel out of their element when they are at the receiving end, even if it’s the most basic thing, like someone placing a dinner plate before them,” she said with a smirk.

I shook my head and put a forkful of the juicy meat in my mouth.

“Givers think they can handle everything on their own. And they are bad at asking for help,” she emphasized as if making a point.

I quirked my brows in response. “And takers?”

“Takers love accepting but don’t know how to give. Takers are often encouraged to give, but givers need to learn to accept love and help—and do it with grace—not only to survive but also to avoid burning out.”

I was getting used to Sona breaking into these mini-lectures, always fascinated by how her mind worked.

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