Page 43 of Lawfully Yours
He reached over and placed a gentle hand over hers. “I understand. But I’m getting old, Aru. And if anything were to happen to me… I want to know you’re not alone. Not just legally or financially, but emotionally. I want to see you find someone before I go.”
His voice cracked slightly at the end, and her heart clenched. For all their sharp conversations and her stubborn independence, Raj Verma had been her everything since her parents died. She owed him more than she could ever repay.
She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Okay. I’ll meet him. No promises. Just meeting.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “That’s all I’m asking. Now go. Get dressed. And maybe try not to look like you’re heading to a court cross-examination. Wear something sexy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sexy? My uncle is asking me to wear sexy? Really?”
They both laughed as she hugged him again.
“Tell that to your golden boy. I don’t need to impress him; he should impress me if he wants me to say a Yes.”
She winked at her uncle and then climbed the stairs to the guest room where her things had been kept.
“He’s sexy enough in every way, Aru. You’ll see that for yourself tonight.” Raj continued behind her.
Arundhati continued heading to her room, wondering who this man was that her uncle thought was good enough for her. What made him so extraordinary?
****************
Verma & Associates 20th Anniversary Party
The party was all glitter, grace and endless champagne. Fairy lights twinkled in the lawn like stars brought down to witness twenty years of Raj Verma’s empire—Verma & Associates. Arundhati stood near the open bar, her fingers curling loosely around the stem of a wine glass she hadn’t really sipped from. She adjusted the strap of her midnight-blue cocktail gown. It was a sleek, off-shoulder piece that hugged her curves with a quiet, confident grace. Her long hair was styled in soft waves that spilt over one shoulder, and her makeup was flawless. Smoky eyes, matte lips, and a highlighter that kissed her cheekbones just right.
A pair of delicate sapphire drop earrings added the only glitter she needed. She wore no necklace, letting her collarbones and poise speak louder than jewellery ever could.
And yet, she was restlessly distracted.
She wasn’t used to parties, the introductions, the stares. Especially not when her uncle had just dropped a bomb on her named ‘Kushal Nair.’
Although she’d agreed to meet him tonight, it wasn’t because she was interested but because her curiosity was killing her. Who was this “golden boy” that her uncle spoke of like a legend?
Inside the party, every time her uncle introduced her to someone, she wondered—Is this Kushal? But it never was. Eachtime she shook a hand and heard a different name, her intrigue sharpened.
Noticing her expression, Raj chuckled. “You look quite eager to meet him.”
“I’m just curious if he lives up to the hype,” she muttered, sipping her drink.
“He’s always late to parties. But ahead in everything else,” Raj said proudly. Then, his eyes lit up. “Ah. There he is. My boy—Kushal!”
She turned, and time slowed.
Kushal Nair entered the party like he owned it. Tall, suited in charcoal grey that complemented his dusky skin, his black hair slightly tousled, he moved with unhurried confidence. He stopped to greet people, shake hands, and offer smiles. But when his eyes found hers, his stride faltered, just slightly, but enough for her to notice.
His eyes didn’t just glance at her. They lingered. Traced. Assessed. Admired. His gaze dropped briefly to her collarbone, then returned to meet her eyes with a flicker of interest. He looked at her like he was figuring her out, too, before reaching them.
He might be handsome, but she didn’t fall for charm wrapped in expensive tailoring. Arundhati stood tall, shoulders back, chin up, unwilling to let his intense gaze ruffle her as he greeted Raj Verma with a genuine smile.
“Sir. Congratulations. Two decades of brilliance. That’s something.”
“Only because of talents like you,” Raj beamed, clapping him on the back. “You’re late.”
Kushal shrugged. “Blame Delhi traffic or the fact that I don’t like making an entrance without some drama.”
Arundhati lifted an eyebrow. “You must be really consistent at being late, then. And overly dramatic for making a late entryat parties. Do you throw rose petals too, or just the occasional slow walk?”
His gaze flicked to her, intrigued. “Only when the audience includes the famous anti-nepotism niece I’ve heard so much about.”
