The Engagement Heist

Excerpt

An hour later, as she entered her bedroom, the low sound of things being shuffled around filled her ears. Years of eavesdropping on her parents, the servants, and brother had sharpened her ears, making them sensitive to even the slightest disruption.

Instinctively, Deepika pushed the door open another inch, the small hairs on the nape of her neck lifting as a blur of blue and brown entered her peripheral vision. The person stood at her desk. His back turned toward her. 

For a brief, heart-stopping second, she thought it was Nishit, but a closer examination revealed it to be someone else. This person was leaner, more wiry, like his strength came from working outside rather than pumping iron in a gym. And his gray shirt was no Prada. Or any other designer Nishit liked to flaunt. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat. 

Not everyone you kept out was an adversary, and not every person you let in was a friend. Sometimes you need to worry more about the people on the inside. 

Deepika reached into her pocket for the switchblade she always kept on her and entered the room. She knew she should turn around and get someone, but something about this person made her move towards him like a shot fired. Plus, the adrenaline coursing through her system from her time at the range had her feeling brave. 

Deepika’s fingers curled around the knife, and she slowly brought it out. The blade flipped open with an imperceptible swish of a well-oiled instrument when she pressed the button. In three long steps, Deepika approached him until only a few inches of air separated them. Then she swung her arm and placed the knife’s point in the center of his spine.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”

The person swiveled in her direction. Suhail’s eyes locked with hers, the mixture of alarm, confusion, surprise, and something else in them making her freeze up. 

Taking advantage of the moment, he grabbed her wrist and shook the knife out of her hands before stepping back and raising his arms like he was under arrest. 

“I’m just here to clean your room,” Suhail said, pushing forward a bucket filled with cleaning products with the front of his boot as if to back his claim.

Deepika exhaled. Her skin flushed hot, as much from the memory of their previous encounter as the shock and excitement pumping through her veins at finding him in her bedroom. 

“My desk doesn’t need cleaning.”

“It needs organizing,” Suhail said, jerking a thumb toward the untidy pile of books and papers behind him. The laptop catching dust.

“The last time our paths crossed, you were unloading furniture in the yard,” Deepika said. “Today, you are here to tidy. Do you work in maintenance or housekeeping?”

Suhail shrugged. “Both. I’m a man of many talents.”

 “So, you say.” 

Deepika accepted the explanation with a nod, but deep down, she knew Suhail wasn’t there just to change the sheets. The silence lengthened between them, and in those ticking seconds, Deepika shifted from foot to foot, discomforted by everything left unsaid between them. 

 “What’s your talent?” Suhail asked.

The words slipped out without even a second’s hesitation. “I can smell bullshit from a mile away.”

Suhail’s mouth lifted into a mischievous smile. “Good skill to have.”

Flirting. They were flirting. Heat pooled in Deepika’s cheeks at the realization. 

Deepika peered into his cerulean eyes. The quiet discontent in them unnerved her. She took an involuntary step back, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t get herself to move too far away from him. Beyond the layers of restless energy, she sensed a loneliness. Deepika recognized it for what it was as she carried it inside her, too. 

***