Page 19

Grandpa nodded knowingly, lowering his voice. “I believe you. Maybe he was hiding her on purpose.”

The men chuckled. “Why do we care? Unless that woman wasn’t from Serene Meadows…” Mr. Verma added with a wink.

Shaurya, who had heard their receding talks, clenched his jaw and shut the door, exhaling sharply.

If only Grandpa knew the truth. That the woman they had seen wasn’t just from Serene Meadows, but was his own granddaughter, Nandini Raichand.

That little menace had actually broken into his house.

He pushed off the door and stalked toward the back, just to be sure. The backdoor was still ajar. She had actually sneaked out like a damn thief.

Unbelievable.

Her little stunt tonight had truly shocked him. And that was saying something, considering he had faced ruthless boardrooms, aggressive acquisitions, and an ugly divorce.

But this woman? She was something else entirely.

He replayed the last few days in his head. Ever since he had first seen her, she had done nothing but intrude on his space. First, in the garden. He had been minding his own damn business, doing push-ups, when he had felt her stare at him. That day, when their eyes met, he had known instantly that she was trouble.

Then, the other morning, the song she had played on the radio had lured him outside against his own will. And when their eyes had locked across the garden, something had shifted.

And now, tonight. This ridiculous break-in.

His fists clenched.

And yet…

His lips pressed into a thin line as he recalled the way her body had felt, pressed so close to his when he had pinned her against the door.

Soft. Warm. Too damn distracting.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, hating the fact that for a split second, he had actually noticed her.

The way her breath had hitched when he stepped closer.

The way her eyes had widened, darkened, just for a moment.

The way her night shorts had revealed far too much of her smooth, bare legs.

He cursed under his breath. No. Not happening.

She was Keshav Raichand’s granddaughter.

There was no way she would be any less exasperating than him—silly, impulsive, tantrum-throwing.

That family was nothing but trouble.

Shewas nothing but trouble.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept replaying the way her body had felt against his tonight. It had been far too long since he had been so close to any woman, and the realisation grated on his nerves. The very thought of feeling such an undeniable spark for someone he barely knew was infuriating.

With a sharp exhale, he slammed his fist against the side table, frustration tightening his jaw. He needed to shut this down.

Turning on his heel, he strode toward his bedroom.

Sleep. That’s what he needed.

By morning, he would be too consumed by work to let these pointless thoughts linger.