Page 89 of Drunk On Love

Yes, after the mind-blowing, soul-satisfying pleasure session by his magical fingers last night, he gave me thesweetest, softest goodnight kiss. He then pulled me into his chest, his arms strong and secure around me. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and soothing, lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. I slept like I belonged—like his chest was the home I never knew I needed.

But then reality hit.Holy shit. 9:30 AM.

My stomach sank as I remembered.The meeting. The editors.In less than an hour.

I rushed to my room, took the fastest shower known to mankind, and thanked every deity in existence that Nancy wasn’t around to slow me down. For once, luck seemed to be on my side—or maybe Manav’s charm was rubbing off on me.

Pushing aside the blush creeping up my neck, I made my way to the kitchen. The second I stepped in, the aroma hit me—a scent so divine that it felt like it was from another world. There he was, the hot, beautiful guy responsible for all my confusion (not that I was complaining).

Manav Oberoi was in his element—humming to soft music, swaying slightly as he worked magic with a spatula. His movements were effortless, graceful, and the way he smiled to himself, completely unaware of my presence, was… enchanting.

I’m seriously conflicted here. Which version of this man is my favorite? The stern, commanding businessman who barks orders like it’s nobody’s business? The shirtless chef, who cooks cheeseballs only for me? The hot guy who can deliver mind-blowing orgasms? The tender, caring one who whispers the sweetest good nights into my hair as I drift off? Or is it this one right now—the carefree, humming, pancake-flipping dream?

I walked up to him, and the moment he turned, those deep blue eyes locked on mine. His smile could outshine thesun. “Good morning.” His voice, warm and velvety, melted something inside me, and that smile… Thatdamnsmile. I might just have to add “smiling Manav Oberoi” to the top of my ever-growing list of favorites.

“Hey…” My voice barely made it out as I stood frozen in place, drinking in the sight of him. Manav, wearing a mint-green T-shirt and black sweatpants, looked so effortlessly perfect. Every part of me wanted to close the distance and hug him, but I couldn’t move.

“Your pancakes are ready,” he said softly, stepping closer, his fingers brushing against my cheekbones with such tenderness that it melted me on the spot.

“I have a meeting in half an hour…” I managed to say it, my voice was shaky.

“You are not leaving without breakfast…” He murmured, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on my cheeks. The warmth of his touch made me crumble. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. His chin rested on my head, and I could hear his heart beating—steady, rhythmic, like it was telling me a story I didn’t yet know. His arms pulled me even closer, his fingers threading softly through my hair.

We stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before he whispered, “Can we go out for dinner tonight?”

I swallowed hard. “If by some miracle, my editors might leave me alive, but Dadi is going to kill me if I don’t meet her today.”

He gently pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze soft but intense. “When do I get to meet her?”.

“Soon…” Why do I feel that I don’t want to leave?

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then, without another word, he guided me to the stool and placed the most beautifully arranged pancakes in front of me. Weate together, laughing over silly things—mostly because I couldn’t resist pulling his leg about the way he plated food with such intense focus. The way he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at my jokes, made me forget that this wasn’t my life.

My sensible brain tried to remind me of all the reasons I should be cautious and tried to ground me in reality. I am leaving in fifteen days, stepping into a different world. I don’t know when—or if—I’ll come back. But my heart? It had a different plan. It was humming a tune all its own, a melody of hope and sweetness that refused to be silenced, no matter how hard I tried.

And so, against all logic and reason, I let myself get lost in that rhythm, surrendering to its pull for just a little while longer. Just enough to savor the fleeting moments that made everything else fade away. Moments that whispered promises I wasn’t sure I could keep—but wasn’t ready to let go of either.

21 ♥?Manav

“Your schedule is packed for the next ten days. No extra plans, no deviations. You’ll be in Mumbai for four days, leaving the day after tomorrow,” Sasha droned on, her voice mechanical as ever, while I half-listened.

“I need the coming weekend free. It’s Dadi’s birthday,” I replied, scrolling through emails during our video call.

“Dadi?” She paused, her eyebrow raising slightly.

“Kiara’s Dadi,” I clarified, glancing briefly at the screen.

“Fine,” she said with a resigned sigh. “The Mumbai deal will be wrapped up by then. After the weekend, you’ll need to be in the boardroom every day. The construction plan details are being finalized as we speak, and Justin will send them for your approval soon. Be prepared.”

“Sasha, stop micromanaging me. I’m not going to create any media circus. Relax.”

“You’ve already done enough damage, big boy,” she retorted sharply.

“What’s your problem?”

Sasha sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair on the video call. “My problem? Oh, let’s start with the fact that you, Manav Oberoi, have a knack for creating chaos justby existing. You’re a walking PR nightmare wrapped in a designer suit.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling my patience wearing thin. “Sasha, can you get to the point without the dramatics?”