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“The suspense is killing me,” I said as Sujit eyed me with a triumphant grin.
Pulling out a chair for me, he waited until I was settled, then lifted the cover with a dramatic flair.
On the platter stood two perfect, hearty squares of tiramisu. My heart stopped beating, and my breath jumbled. I blinked at the dessert but could muster no words to emerge out of my mouth.
In my moments of vulnerability, I had shared much with Sujit, but I hadn’t expected him to remember anything. Only, he remembered it all.A well-made tiramisu, I had said. This certainly looked and smelled like one.
Using the pie server that lay next to the platter, he placed one square on the plate before me. The choice of the sweet wine made sense now. I watched him pour the wine to the perfect quantity in my glass.
“You said you like a well-made tiramisu,” he said, creating ripples in my being again. “Tell me if this is up to your standards,” he added, nudging me to taste it.
Everything you do is up to my standards, I was tempted to blurt. Promptly, I picked up the spoon and stuffed a generous portion in my mouth to prevent myself from saying anything other than to comment on the dessert.
It was perfect. “This is a well-made tiramisu,” I announced with a happy grin.
He exhaled. “Good,” he said, then settled in the chair across the table. He served himself the other portion and poured the wine.
“The wine is excellent, as well,” I commented.
He took a sip and nodded approvingly. “I can’t take the credit, though,” he confessed. “I asked my sommelier for recommendations.”
“You have a sommelier?” I cried, and he gave me a sheepish look like he was embarrassed.
It was so easy to forget that this man was a literal billionaire with the world at his beck and call.
“Doesn’t everyone?” he joked.
“I need their number,” I teased back.
“You have me. Everything I have is at your disposal, including my sommelier,” he said with his eyes on the tiramisu.
There it was again, that thud in my head, in my heart, pumping through my blood and creating the same cognitive dissonance in my being. I knew I could not have this man, but he was the only one I wanted.
“This is the best surprise I’ve ever gotten,” I said as I watched him enjoy the tiramisu.
His mouth lifted at one corner. “Are you sure?”
I frowned. “What else have you got planned, you sneaky man?”
“Hey, you got Rampur for me. That was sneaky. This is merely a result of good memory.”
“You know, if you want to remain in my good graces,” I said, polishing off the last of the cream on my plate, “you better let me have the last word now and again.”
That made him burst into laughter. “I think you’ll be inclined to forgive me after you see the gift I got you.”
“Gift?” My eyes widened, then I narrowed them at him. “What kind of gift?”
It was so liberating to be able to joke with him this way. I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else. I never expected or demanded gifts from Sameer. Even when he did bring me gifts, I hadn’t felt the same surge of excitement that was coursing through me currently.
“The kind of gift that I hope makes you happy,” he said. “Just like you made me happy by gifting me this weekend.”
I turned my gaze away to avoid looking into his eyes. I needed to focus on something else. I saw that he hadn’t touched the wine much.
“Let me pour you a scotch,” I offered.
He read my thoughts and said, “I’m alright, sweet girl. This combination is perfect.”
When we were done, he disappeared into his room and returned with my gift.