Page 11 of When Love Trespassed
He looked criminally good and casual in a dark olive-green suit, pushing a basket with all the intensity of someone about to launch a hostile business takeover. His eyes scanned the shelves like they owed him answers.
“Excuse me,” Shaurya said to the shopkeeper. “That brass cake stand…the one with the engraved base. I will take that.”
Nandini’s eyes widened.
Not the cake stand.
“NO!” Grandpa’s booming voice interrupted from behind. “That’s the one I wanted!”
Shaurya’s brows drew together. “Of course it is.”
Grandpa arrived, puffing out his chest like a warrior ready for battle.
“You always follow me,” he accused. “Like a hawk. Or worse, like one of those annoying delivery guys who ring the bell just when I sit down for tea.”
“I didn’t know stalking was a hobby of mine, Mr Raichand,” Shaurya replied dryly, folding his arms. “But if I’m here and you’re also here... I’d say the problem isn’t me.”
“The problem is your timing , always so suspicious!” Grandpa snapped. “And why do you suddenly want a brass cake stand? You don’t ever celebrate anything.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed your approval to buy homeware,” Shaurya shot back, his tone edged with a sharpness Nandini knew all too well. He was going to lose it soon.
The shopkeeper looked back and forth between them, caught like a deer in the headlights.
“Sir… we only have one in stock. It’s a popular piece…”
“Oh, keep it,” Shaurya said suddenly, stepping back, but keeping his eyes glued on her grandfather. “You can buy it. In fact, I insist. I’m sure it clearly holds sentimental value for you… like most outdated things. I have better taste, anyway.”
He said the parting line, looking directly at Nandini.
That was it.
The comment that he delivered with a casual smirk and a pointed look at her as he said, ‘I have better taste, anyway,’ somehow made it feel even more insulting.
Nandini’s spine straightened as she saw Shaurya turn on his heel and walk out, as if the last word had been spoken.
Grandpa scoffed, proud. “Huh, finally, he backed off.”
“Oh, please,” Nandini muttered, grabbing the brass cake stand like it was suddenly made of lava. “We don’t want this. Wait here.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned to the shopkeeper. “Just add it to our bill, please.”
Gripping the box tightly, she spun around and marched toward the exit. Through the glass doors, she spotted Shaurya by his sleek black SUV, unlocking it with an air of arrogance.
Perfect.
She picked up her pace.
“Hey! Wait.”
He turned just in time to see Nandini storm across the parking lot, her curls bouncing behind her and her expression murderous.
With her lips set in a firm line, her fists clenched, and her chin raised, it looked as if she was ready for a battle.
And for some idiotic reason, his brain chose that exact moment to whisper: Hot .
Seriously? He inwardly chided himself, straightening up from the car. There was absolutely nothing appropriate about finding someone attractive when they looked like they wanted to strangle you.
But the fiery look on her face was infuriating, intense, and sexy as hell.
He clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, forcing every last rebellious thought back into the furthest corner of his mind.
She wasn’t storming over here to flirt. She was marching toward him with the full intention of launching another verbal grenade.
Probably about the cake stand. Or about his ‘I have better taste, anyway’ jab that had clearly hit a nerve.
Yep. This was definitely a fight incoming.
Before he could even open his mouth, she shoved the cake stand into his chest with enough force to make him stumble back.
“Take it,” she said. “You earned it. With that brilliant, condescending little comment of yours.”
“I don’t need—” he began.
“Save it,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “You could’ve just said ‘no problem’ or even nothing at all. But no, you had to go and say ‘I have better taste, anyway’ like you’re some kind of style guru with superior taste in everything, and my grandfather has the tackiest taste in the world.”
“I never said that.”
“Oh, please. You didn’t have to. You implied it.”
Shaurya rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t aware you were also fluent in implication analysis.”
“I’m fluent in your tone for sure,” she retorted, stepping closer. “It’s always arrogant, always smug, and always like you’re better than everyone around you.”
He exhaled slowly, like she was testing the last thread of his patience. “And yet, here you are, pinning me against my car in a parking lot over a cake stand.”
She blinked, just realising that she was standing very, very close to him, and her hand was still on his chest.
Their eyes locked, and just like that, his gaze swept over her face. A breath passed between them, thick with something that had nothing to do with the cake stand anymore.
“That’s because you’re impossible,” she muttered.
“And you’re overdramatic.”
“You’re rude.”
“You’re loud.”
“I’m not—” she began, but then his mouth curved slightly as if her frustration was his favourite form of entertainment. Nandini flushed and quickly dropped her hand from his chest.
Just as she opened her mouth to deliver another retort, Shaurya straightened slightly and looked around the parking lot. A couple walked by with their cart, giving them a curious glance.
“I guess it’s better if you don’t publicly display our… umm… fondness for each other like this,” he said.
She blinked, unable to believe her ears. “Our what?”
But Shaurya continued to adjust his cuff, ignoring her words. “I’ve heard that Serene Meadows is abuzz with gossip about some mysterious woman seen at my villa on Christmas night. I’d rather not help them connect the dots and figure out it was you.”
“Excuse me?”
He met her stunned expression with that maddening calm. “I’m just trying to save you from a scandal. You’re welcome.”
“I’m not scared of gossip,” she shot back.
Shaurya tilted his head slightly. “Haven’t you lived here long enough to know what this community can do? They’ll have you married to me and pregnant with twins before February if they ever find out it was you in my villa that night.”
And just like that, Nandini’s mind flashed back to a vivid memory from her childhood.
She must’ve been around twelve. That winter, their neighbours—Supriya and Aditya, both barely 22—had been caught lingering a little too long by the community hall, laughing a little too hard, their hands brushing just a little too casually.
The entire neighbourhood caught wind of it faster than a forest fire in the dry season.
What started as harmless flirting had, within days, turned into a full-blown scandal.
By the following weekend, their families were meeting over trays of sweets, and within two weeks, Supriya and Aditya were married—complete with garlands, band baaja, and a flock of gossiping aunties nodding in smug satisfaction, acting like they had successfully orchestrated a royal union.
Two years later, word came back that the newlyweds had indeed had twins, and had moved far away from Serene Meadows to some metro city where, presumably, they could walk next to someone in public without a wedding garland being thrown over them by force.
It was one of those classic cautionary tales whispered to every young girl in the neighbourhood like folklore: never make eye contact for too long, never accept an extra slice of cake from a boy, and for heaven’s sake, never be seen walking home together after sunset.
The community was always watching, always ready with a guest list and a pandit on speed dial.
And now, standing here in a parking lot, holding a brass cake stand like it was a live bomb, Nandini could feel that old childhood panic creeping in again. Not that she was actually scared. Just… aware. Keenly aware.
She narrowed her eyes at Shaurya. “You think you’re being clever, don’t you?”
“I think I’m being realistic,” he replied, smug as ever. “But if you’re okay with becoming the next Supriya—”
“Don’t even joke about that,” she cut in, horrified.
“Oh, I’m not joking. One wrong look at each other, and we’ll be registered, ringed, and raising toddlers before you can say Happy New Year. And I don’t want that.”
She glared at him, her cheeks heating, not sure if it was from fury or the very real mental image of them trying to survive Serene Meadows’ version of forced domestic bliss.
Shaurya just raised an eyebrow and held the brass cake stand like it was some kind of victory trophy.
“Anyway,” he said with infuriating coolness, “thank you for the gift. I’ll cherish it.”
That did it.
“You know what?” she snapped. “May your smug, sarcastic, emotionally constipated New Year be everything you deserve.”
And with that, she spun around, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like unbelievable, her curls bouncing behind her like punctuation marks.
Shaurya watched her flounce off, fighting a grin. He shouldn’t be smiling. He most definitely shouldn’t. But dammit, he was.
Both Grandpa and his granddaughter were really something!