Page 81 of Lawfully Yours

His gaze drifted into her room, casually at first… and then paused. The jacket was sprawled across the middle of her bed. And not neatly placed either. It looked wrinkled, sunken in the middle like she had been curled into it. As if she had been hugging it. Holding it for warmth.

He looked back at her, and her face turned the softest shade of pink.

Without saying a word, she stormed to the bed, grabbed the jacket with more force than necessary, and clutched it to her chest as though it had somehow betrayed her. Her movements screamed damage control, but she knew it was pointless. Kushal had seen enough. And more than that, heunderstoodenough.

She held the jacket out to him, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Here,” she said quickly. “Take it. I don’t need it.”

He reached for it, then paused. With a half-smile, he pulled his phone from the inner pocket and handed the jacket right back to her.

“You can keep it,” he said casually.

“I said I don’t need it,” she repeated, her voice turning defensive now.

“Suit yourself,” he said, stepping back as she reached for the door. “Goodnight.”

To put a hard stop to the vulnerability still lingering between them, she slammed the door shut, too hard.

A click echoed. And then, the door creaked open again.

She froze.

Confused, she tried to shut it once more. This time slower. But the door wouldn’t catch. It swung back open again, revealing Kushal standing on the other side, just as stunned.

She tried again, pushing it firmly into place. Same result.

“Damn it,” she hissed under her breath.

Kushal leaned against his doorframe, arms crossed now, a grin blooming across his face. Fate was definitely on his side tonight.

She glared at the door and back at him.

“I swear I didn’t touch anything,” he added quickly. “Thank god the lock didn’t break frommyside or you’d have accused me of manipulating that too.”

“This isn’t funny, Kushal. I can’t sleep like this. The door has to lock. I need my privacy. Why the hell is it not locking?”

She tried to lock the door again, but nothing worked. He raised a brow at her panic, and then stepped inside her room without permission, and walked past her, heading straight to the desk phone.

“Kushal? What are you—”

He held up a finger, dialling reception and putting it on speaker. “Let’s get this sorted.”

Seconds later, a polite voice answered. “Hello, this is the Reception desk, Palms Retreat Dalhousie. How may I help you?”

“Hi. I’m calling from Room 506,” Kushal said. “The connecting door lock between my room and my partner’s 507 just broke. It’s swinging open and not holding. We need a fix.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man replied. “Let me check… unfortunately, we are completely booked out for the next three days, including all suites and single rooms.”

Arundhati stood behind him, listening. Still hugging herself. Still not sure whether to be annoyed or moved.

“We will send someone first thing in the morning to repair the lock,” the receptionist continued. “But since the fault is on our end, if you’re uncomfortable, we can arrange to transfer your booking to our sister property about an hour from here. A private villa is available for you both.”

Kushal looked at her, his eyes searching hers, silently giving her the choice to decide.

Her chest rose with a long breath as she stepped forward, and reached past him to speak.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” she told the receptionist. “We’ll continue our stay here. Please send the technician tomorrow.”