Page 44

SAMARTH

Landed

AVANTIKA

I know

Your flight was tracked, my friend.

SAMARTH

Stalker :’)

AVANTIKA

I had to rush to the office for a call

Have asked the concierge to let you in

SAMARTH

I can check into a hotel, I’ll see you when you are done

AVANTIKA

No way

Go home, take a shower, rest

There’s pulav in the fridge if you are hungry

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” She chanted as she opened the door of her apartment and entered the space. It was just as quiet as she had left it. Avantika frowned. She had gotten a notification that Samarth had checked into her apartment.

“Samarth?”

She set her bag and keys down on the entrance console and stopped short.

Because Samarth Sinh Solanki was sleeping on her sofa, his 6 foot 1 frame curled, his face relaxed, and some of that perfectly held hair flopping down on his forehead.

Avantika swallowed. There was so much joy inside her that fizzed up and burst at that sight.

He didn’t stir even after her loud holler.

Had he been that tired? She realised he was.

He had played a local match just yesterday.

Before that he had sat on the annual Maharawal Parishad Meeting alongside his father.

That event had gone on for three days in Devgadh and had been a fanfare of epic proportions.

She was fully apprised thanks to his real-time updates and snaps.

Apparently, it had become a yearly affair after some women’s inheritance bill had been imposed on the Gujarat royal families a decade ago.

And every year, Maan bhai’s wife hosted it to make it bigger than the last. Like a festival.

Avantika glanced at the clock. It was just past 3 in the afternoon. The flight was at 9. She had two choices — wake him up and steal the remaining four hours, or let him sleep and recuperate for his upcoming tournament.

Avantika quietly drew the curtains on the hall windows and retreated to her bedroom.

————————————————————

“Ava?!” His thunder broke her mindless meditation of applying lotion down her leg. Avantika startled, quickly pulling her drawstring sweats on and pushing her arms through her home silk spaghetti top before dashing out.

“What’s wrong…” she trailed to a stop at the enraged polo player, snarling at her like one of his horses. A sight she had never seen. “What happened?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?!” His sleep-roughened voice roared. “It’s 5.45!”

“The flight is not before 9 and the traffic from here to the airport is minimal so leaving before two hours is also fine…”

He covered the distance between them, sleep-rumpled and angry and looking like he would cry — “That leaves just one hour fifteen minutes!”

Her logical rant died. Her chest bubbled and her face softened.

“You should have woken me up…” he rubbed his face, pushing that hair back up. It stayed. So he used product to keep it in place. How had she not guessed it? Maybe because it looked so natural.

“I can’t even postpone it, I have an investor meeting tomorrow early morning and if I miss it…

” he kept muttering to himself, looking so adorable in that regret.

Avantika just finished covering the distance that he hadn’t covered between them and circled her arms around him.

His body locked up. But it was only a momentary shock before his arms came around her, closing around her shoulders.

She inhaled the faint oud and sleep scent of his T-shirt.

Absorbed all the warmth from his nap. Pulled all the frustrations of the last few minutes. It felt like it was a decade old.

“One hour fifteen minutes is more than enough to listen to you talk your 2.15 words.”

His chest vibrated over hers. His chin on the top of her head caressed her hair. Or she thought it did as he gently pulled her away from him. His eyes weren’t half-sleepy anymore, neither was there anger there. He blinked, mouth stretching for her, because of her.

“Hi,” he whispered to her.

Her face contorted in a smile deeper than she had ever felt — “Hi.”

Samarth patted her back and dropped his arms, walking back to set her sofa cushions back in place.

“Did you eat?” She asked.

“Yes, the pulav was very good for a princess who would mess up fried rice and hakka noodles,” he laughed, following her to the kitchen, grabbing her elbow before she could start doing something else and taking her to the sofa.

“Why, Samarth Sinh Solanki, talking like a typical Indian mother-in-law.”

He snorted, lowering himself on the sofa and pulling her along to sit beside him. Her body automatically turned towards his — “So then, say.”

“What?” He deadpanned.

“Your 2.15 words. Only one hour and five minutes now.”

His face blanked out.

“I can’t think what to say…” he wondered aloud cutely.

“That’s because we talk so much on texts every day!”

He gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“Ok, tell me, what is this investor meeting. This is the first I have heard about it.”

“To sponsor our team. We have Indian big leagues sponsoring us and that’s great, money-wise. But a European sponsor would open doors in this part of the world where polo is slowly gaining traction. Also, more money would mean better promotion, more spectators…”

“Those Gir Zephyr Instagram stories of you riding your horse in all your gear are enough to get the spectators, FYI. At least, the female kind.”

His face reddened.

“But isn’t Nawanagar sponsoring you? Your father owns businesses…”

“He doesn’t own them, the kingdom owns them and he works for them on behalf of the kingdom.

And anyway, I do not want my own people to sponsor me.

That’s just termed as a hobby then. This is serious business, I need my team and the entire staff to know that we are in real-world big leagues.

It’s a niche sport but I want to make it big, bring better livelihoods for all of them — the grooms, the stablehands, the field staff.

The money we make is not bad right now. But I say that from a privileged perspective, sitting in my father’s palace. Not everybody on my team has that…”

“I love this.”

“What?”

“This, what you are doing… and how invested you are in it. After seeing you again I have watched a lot of polo reels, but I don’t know much about the professional side of it. Who’s the best polo player in the world currently?”

“Luis Barthelomeow Jr. from Argentina. He ranks number 1 currently.”

“Where do you rank?”

“Not even in the top 50,” Samarth chuckled.

“You will, one day very soon.”

His sweet smile bloomed. A little shy. A little proud.

She knew it was like that because she was saying it.

She had seen his matches and prize distribution ceremonies.

They sang praises before announcing him, kept exalting him while presenting the trophies and the prizes, shaking hands with him longer than necessary.

And Samarth never looked half as shy as he did now.

Avantika loved this feeling even more.

“Your 2.15 words stretched a little longer.”

His eyes shifted to the clock and stuttered. He looked like he was losing the greatest battle of his life. He hadn’t looked like this even after missing that big penalty shot in the Under-16 Champions Trophy Final during school. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Samarth.”

“It’s already 6.20,” he looked despondently at her. “We have forty minutes.”

“Actually, we have four days.”

His face screwed.

“I am coming with you.”

“What?” His body jolted, shaking her sofa. She bit back a laugh — “I mean… if you want me to.”

“To Florence?”

Avantika nodded.

“How? Your work? Where are your bags? What will you do there? Wait, you are coming for the tournament or some other work?”

“Hmm. More than 2.15 words for sure. Well done.”

“Tell me, Ava,” he commanded. Unlike his previous commands, this one held some princishness, maybe even some kingishness.

“I had reserved work-from-home days that I will be using tomorrow and the day after. Then it’s the weekend. I will fly back Monday early morning. You will still be there.”

The shock on his face, that deadpan expression, finally gave way to a grin.

“You are not joking, right?”

She pointed a finger to the kitchen pantry. One suitcase was already packed and ready.

“I have one more in my room that I was going to finish before you woke up screaming my name!”

He launched at her, his big body flattening her against the headrest of the sofa. She laughed, circling her arms around him.

“Wait,” he pulled away. “I have been counting down the minutes like a time bomb and you just sat there letting me?”

“Yes, Princess,” she patted the top of his head that was, for a change, accessible to her. “This grew but the thing inside it doesn’t grow.”

He pushed her hand away, making her laugh louder.

“My bag was right there.”

“Careful, Ava. You’ve declared war with this prank. And you know my interest rate.”

Her mouth snapped shut. She blinked rapidly at him, unable to formulate any words, forget sentence. He just smirked and popped off her.

“Let’s pack your bag and run. We can talk at the airport!”

————————————————————

They went through their check-in at the airport with AirPods shared, music blaring, snagging his phone to switch songs. It wasn’t time for his Krishna bhajan so he let her do most of the DJing. But when she set A.P. Dhillon, he gave up. He grabbed his phone back and toggled the playlist.

“I’ll change, give me,” she tried to pull it out of his hand. He took it out of her reach.

“You’ll put some slow song. I want quirky! Samarth!” She rammed her shoulder into his side. He held his hand up, scrolling. “Samarth!!!”

“Samarth?”

They stopped on their way to the First Class Lounge at the sound of that soft, smooth feminine voice.

Avantika observed Samarth’s face before checking out who she was.

He didn’t look guilty. So it wasn’t one of his groupies or staff or team members.

She cocked her head. She could deal with whoever else it was.