Page 14

Thirteen. Not in the romance zone

Elias

I have never been more glad to be home than I am the moment the plane touches down in Chennai. Between the gruelling physiotherapy with Dr. Theo and being forced to sit on the sidelines and watch my team play shitty games one after the other, I’m exhausted. Why are they making silly mistakes? It’s been one fuck up after the other and I’m worried we’re not going to make it to the finals.

Maybe then Doc can ease up on the torture .

Then there’s the Lucky Shot crew that’s been following us around. They’re not intrusive, but I’m aware of their presence. Thankfully they talk to the guys playing and don’t bother me as much. When they do corner me, the questions range from ‘why cricket?’ to ‘what’s your favourite workout music?’ and even about my relationship status. I’ve been skirting the last one because it’s safer that way. It would also be in bad form to announce I’m obsessed with their boss, that I dream about her and fist myself to memories of her naked body.

I’ve been home for five hours and spent most of it unpacking, showering and doing laundry. Also staring at my phone. I know Vera’s busy, so I never expect instant replies when I send her a long list of texts. But it has been hours and I was hoping to make plans to spend the evening with her. I wasn’t joking about being obsessed, because every chance I get to be anywhere close to her, I want to take it. The combination of her warm, soft body enveloped in my arms and the heady scent of peaches, honey and vanilla is making me greedy to see her.

After a second load of laundry is done, I speak with my parents and my siblings, I check in with Bash and Samar; still nothing from Vera. I understand the terms of our arrangement and I respect them, but I haven’t eaten anything since boring airplane food and my body craves hers. So showing up unannounced isn’t wrong, right? Especially if I bring whatever’s still within the rules —food and sex.

It takes me another hour to do anything and by then it’s closing in on eight in the evening. If Vera’s still at the office, it’s my duty to stop her from being such a workaholic. Right? I slip into black trousers and a light blue shirt, wanting to look like I’m showing up for a work meeting instead of something else. Even if it’s way past working hours. I call my favourite pizza place and give them my order. Kuriakose drives me to the closest TASMAC? 1 so I can grab a bottle of wine before we pick up the food.

I’ve never been to this part of the city before and if it wasn’t for Google, I wouldn’t even know where her office is. The security at the gate waves us in and once Kuriakose is parked, I walk through the empty lobby and climb into the elevator. The Lucky Shot office is on the sixteenth floor and I imagine she has a gorgeous view. When the lift stops, I step out through the doors and come face-to-face with a young man swearing at his Nintendo Switch.

“Hey there,” I say gently.

He startles and drops the gaming device, eyes wide as he looks at me. “Hi. Uh…wait, you’re El?—”

“Is Vera here?” I ask, cutting him off.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Not really. I’d like to surprise her.”

He hesitates and I’m glad that even though he knows who I am, he doesn’t make my entrance into the office easy. He’s protecting Vera and for that, he’s already got a few points in my book.

“Down this way and the last office on your left. It’s the only one with the lights on, so you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle at his confused expression.

My eyes dart around the wide open space, as I follow his directions, with at least ten cubicles set in twos. None of it is cramped and the work areas seem quite comfortable. The air-conditioning is also at a nice temperature, with plants filling up all the empty corners. On one side there’s an open area that looks like a kitchen and dining room, as well as a large balcony. Enclosed offices stretch across another wall with frosted glass doors providing enough privacy.

I see light spilling onto the dark wooden floor at the end and smile to myself. It doesn’t surprise me she’s working long after everyone’s gone. I did my research on Vera—articles about her rise to success, interviews touting her as one of the most powerful young women in the country. Reviews from satisfied clients paint a picture of the person I’m growing more and more attached to. When I stop at her door, I’m glad the frosted feature isn’t activated.

A large desk is up against the main wall, with floating bookshelves above it. An iMac sits on one side while files, plants and notebooks fill the other side of the surface. Vera’s seated in a plush green chair and while I can’t see anything beyond the messy bun her hair is tied up in, I can tell she’s very focused on her work. Beside her desk is another shelf that spans the entire wall. Awards, books and photographs are littered all over the space. The final wall is a window with an arched top. The lights of the city wink at me as I take in the green couch in front of it. Tall palms and smaller plants are tucked into corners and paintings hang on remaining wall space.

This is exactly what I imagined her office would look like—comfortable, classy and professional. I run a hand down the front of my shirt and take a deep breath before knocking against the glass. Vera jumps and spins in her chair, eyes widening when she sees me. I wave, offering her a grin in return. She blinks a few times and stands up, almost like she’s not sure if I’m real or not.

Dressed in a light blue pantsuit that matches my shirt, she looks incredible. Her feet are bare with bright pink polish on her toes. She’s probably worn the outfit all day, there’s not a single wrinkle and I’m impressed.

“What are you doing here?” she asks as I step inside her office.

“Bringing you dinner.”

“What…why?”

I chuckle at her frazzled expression. “I texted when I got back and didn’t hear from you, so figured I’d swing by.”

“To bring me dinner.”

“From my favourite pizza place.”

She looks at the box, then at the tote carrying the wine, eyebrows dipping. “I’m sorry I didn’t see your texts.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“But you showed up anyway?”

“Well, I miss you and our benefits include food, right?” She chews on the inside of her cheek, still watching me cautiously. “Do you…do you want me to go? I don’t mean to overstep,” I say, realising this might have been the wrong move. It seemed so simple and romantic in my head. But we don’t do that, right? We’re not in the romance zone, we’re in the fucking like animals section of relationships. Or whatever the fuck this is.

She shakes her head and her shoulders drop. “Sorry, it’s been a really long day and I’m tired. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve barely had time to eat or pee, so looking at my phone has been the last thing on my list. Sorry I didn’t reply to your texts.”

“It’s okay,” I repeat softly and set the pizza and wine on the table in front of her couch. I take a few steps forward and Vera collapses into me. My arms wind around her and she sinks into the embrace, her hands settling on my back. Her familiar fragrance wraps around me and I nuzzle into her hair as we stay like that for a long moment. It’s only when someone knocks on the glass do we pull apart and I find the young man from earlier smiling sheepishly as he pushes the door open slightly.

“Do you need me for anything else, Ms. Thomas?”

“I thought I sent you home hours ago, James.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t want to leave until I was sure you were done with work.”

“Please, go home. And I’ll see you next week.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she insists and pats him on the shoulder. James glances at me and I raise a hand in an awkward wave. Vera turns to me and I smile. “He knows who you are.”

“What can I say, I’ve got one of those faces.”

“The whole office is going to know by Monday.”

I open up the pizza and pull out the wine. “For all they know, we’re friends and nothing else.”

“Do you hug all your friends that way?”

“You should be so glad I didn’t grab your ass.”

Vera snorts and unties her hair, dark strands falling down past her shoulders. Even after a long day of work, she’s a sight to behold. Her eyes drift over the spread on the coffee table then lift to my face. There's something in her eyes that looks a lot like longing.

Impossible .

I clear my throat, not wanting to dwell on what I think I saw. “Dinner.”

A soft raspy laugh slips from her and she shrugs out of her jacket, leaving her in a tight sleeveless white top that hugs her breasts in a way I wish my hands could. Vera drops onto the couch, a groan falling from her lips. She’s made that sound, and others, because of what I’ve been doing to her body. Hearing it again in this casual setting is distracting. I hand her a slice before filling up one of the reusable glasses with wine. She takes both, but doesn’t do anything other than stare at me.

“Is there something on my face?”

“Admiring you is all.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks and I dip my head. “Don’t let me stop you,” I say and take a bite of the pizza, settling back against the couch.

She chuckles and releases a sound that’s part moan, part something else. It wakes my dick up. Everything about Vera has me alert and on edge right now, but I’m not looking to do anything more than eat this delicious pizza with her. When I glance over her eyes slip shut and teeth sink into the slice, soft lips pressing against the greasy pieces of pepperoni. It’s silly to get bent out of shape over something like this, but this woman could be twirling a pencil and I’d be enraptured.

“I wish this pizza was big enough to wrap me up like a blanket, then I could take nibbles out of it whenever I’m hungry,” she says, almost slurring from exhaustion.

“While that might be impossible, I could provide the pizza every single day in the future?”

She eyes me and takes another large bite. “Will you add some sweets to the package?”

“Dessert is a no brainer.”

“No, sweets . Kaju katli? 2 and dharwad peda? 3 . I’d even kill for some Mysore pak? 4 right now too.”

Surprised at her admission, I say, “Seriously, Indian sweets do it for you?”

“Think of all the ghee and nuts and deliciousness that goes into each piece. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good chocolate cake. But if you give me a box of peda, I will be the happiest woman in the world.”

“Noted. What else?”

“Mallu food, obviously. I’d be okay eating the onasadhya? 5 every day.”

“I’m partial to the sadhya too.” I actually make mental notes of these things, because one day, I’m gonna need to bring in the big guns.

She finishes her pizza, grabs another slice and turns to me as she bites into it. “What about you?”

Having the full force of her attention is startling at first, but I catch myself before I fumble and say something stupid. Licking the grease off my lips, I take a minute to ponder. “I’ve never been a sweets person and since I started playing cricket, it’s become less of a craving. But I do have a weakness for ice cream. The other day, your team brought tiny cups to the locker room and everyone went absolutely insane.”

She laughs and shifts on the couch, one hand holding her wine, the other guiding the pizza to her mouth. “Do you have a favourite flavour?”

“I’m a simple guy. Gimme anything with chocolate and I’m good.”

“As a kid someone convinced me I was allergic to chocolate, so I didn’t eat any until college. Then I discovered it was a way for them to curb my sugar consumption.”

“Was it a grandmother?”

She snorts. “Isn’t it always a grandmother? I love her, god rest her soul, but the food policing was quite something.”

“My younger sister, Nina, went through it too. I think it’s partly why she became an athlete, so she could eat whatever she wanted and continue to burn those calories to impress our grandmother.”

“Another athlete?”

Grinning, I scroll through my phone to find a decent picture of us. “ Three athletes, actually. Patrick plays hockey and Nina’s a badminton star.”

Vera smiles at the photograph. “Attractive bunch of people too.”

“Blessed with fantastic genetics.”

She chuckles and pats her pockets before realising she doesn’t have her phone. “My younger brother is a cricket coach for a local team and my other siblings are about as sports inclined as I am.”

“Ah, so he’s the misfit of the family.”

“Technically my father and older brother are obsessed with cricket, they don’t play it anymore.”

“Would they like tickets to one of the local games?” She arches an eyebrow. “My parents are travelling so I’ve got family passes.”

“What about your siblings?”

“Middle of intense training.”

Her eyebrows dip as she eats and I can tell she’s seriously considering my offer. I know it would make a big difference to give the tickets to someone who might enjoy seeing a match live.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now, think about it and let me know.”

Vera nods, chewing through the crust eagerly. “I’m assuming all the texts you sent and I haven’t replied to were about PT. So how’s that going?”

I groan at the reminder and she laughs. Of course she finds my frustration amusing. “They say I’m healing well and it looks like I could get back into practice sessions this week, but nothing has happened yet.”

“I looked up rotator cuff injuries,” she says and my eyes widen. “I wanted to understand what you were going through and they say it could take more than a year to really recover?”

“It’s been a year since the surgery and I have the odd twinge now and then, but I’m fine.”

Her head tilts to the side. “Clearly not if the doctors haven’t signed off on you playing again.”

“I looked you up too, Ms. Thomas ,” I say in an effort to change the subject. She’s been really good at listening to me vent and rant about my recovery process, but I don’t want to spend this whole evening talking about myself.

“Oh yeah, what did you find?”

“You’re a wealthy, powerful woman. Maybe even a millionaire?” I reply and she tosses her head back on a laugh. It’s not entirely false. She’s worth more than I make as a Renegade and member of the Indian cricket team combined. She started this company from the ground up and worked her butt off to get investors. Vera’s the kind of badass that would make millionaires weep and I’m all about it.

“I’m nowhere close to being a millionaire and I never want to be. But I am proud of what I’ve achieved.”

“As you should be, I’ve read all the articles and you’re a powerhouse.”

She blushes, gaze dropping to her lap and I discover another thing I can’t help but love about Vera Thomas—she’s bashful about her success.