by P. G. Van
She pulled her phone out and texted Samar.
Mantra: At THE Red Room, remind me to tell you everything about it.
Her phone continually buzzed as she followed him to what seemed like a residence tucked away behind the restaurant.
“Do you live here?”
“I do now.” He turned to look down at her. It was a novel feeling for her to have someone look at her with their eyes drooped. At five-foot-nine, she had never felt small, but walking behind him made her feel little. He was at least half a foot taller and had the broadest expanse of shoulders she had seen on a man. He could take her with no effort, and she wondered if she secretly hoped for him to overpower her—she was intrigued by the thought of being held helpless in his arms.
She followed him through what looked like a secret doorway and stepped into a living room with high ceilings, skylights, and a wall of windows. The place was bright and airy making the creepy feeling evaporate.
“Can I get you a pastry?”
“No, I seriously don’t need any pastry now.”
“Will you say no if I offered you a drink?” He smirked walking toward the massive island in the kitchen. The kitchen spread over the majority of the space in front of her. It was open and looked extremely futuristic.
“Soda works,” she said leaning against the island as he moved around in the kitchen. She watched him as he made small talk while making her a custom soda drink. He was talking, but all she could focus on was his hands, his large palms, and long fingers as they moved and touched the ingredients like they were delicate flowers. His very touch was erotic.
Shit!
She swallowed and looked into his eyes as he was looking right at her and caught her staring at his hands. She was sure he was convinced she was staring at his crotch.
“Do you like what you see?” He had a devious tone to his voice.
“Umm…”
“What have you been up to lately?” He wasn’t necessarily looking at her, but she felt her cheeks heat up just to respond to his question.
“I am working on my thesis.”
“Doctorate?” He looked at her in amazement.
“Hopefully, someday, but Masters for now.”
“What area?” he asked adding ice to a cup.
“Psychology… seamless couples’ therapy.” She held his gaze as he walked toward her with her drink.
“Interesting… I’d like to hear more about why you picked that for your thesis. This is a fresh lime—ginger soda with a touch of cayenne.”
“Oh… you are not the first person to ask me about that, but I know how important therapy is…” Her voice trailed off when he started to shake his head, tauntingly.
“Why?” His voice held a lot of mockery that cut through her haze.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you wasting your time with couples’ therapy? People either stay or walk away if it doesn’t work out.”
She took a deep breath not wanting to lash out at him. He wasn’t the first person to question her choice of topic for her thesis. Her professor, parents, and even friends suggested she choose something different. She didn’t want to pick just any topic. She believed in couples needing help from time to time, and her thesis was about providing the therapy outside a therapist’s office. She believed it made it easier for couples to seek the help they needed and not feel embarrassed or awkward about seeing a therapist.
“It’s a variation of couples’ therapy.” She took a slow and deep breath to stay calm.
He took a step closer to her and handed her the drink.
“If you and I were a couple, do you think we’d need therapy?” His tone was flat.
He came so close all she could smell was him. His masculinity consumed her lungs making her feel high. She looked into his eyes questioning his intentions.
“With what we have between us, we’ll never need therapy.” His words carried mockery.
“I’ll never be with someone like you.” She stepped back.
He laughed making her want to slap him—a voice inside her encouraged her so she could feel his skin.
“Stop wasting your time on couples’ therapy. It is stupid.”
Her body shook as her ego shattered into a million pieces, and she chastised herself for finding him attractive. The attraction was undeniable, and she knew it could be fatal.
“You are wrong, and it doesn’t matter to me what you think about what I do. I hope never to see you again.” She walked away from him.
“Mantra!” he called out making her stop at the door. “You are the wildest thing I’ve met in my life. There is no escape from me.”
All she could think about was sticking out her long middle finger, but she left without turning back to look at him. She ran to the safety of her car and was out of there in minutes. She hoped never to see him again and never be in a situation where she was taunted for her life choices by the most dreadfully good-looking bastard.
Chapter 5
“Are you in there?” Samar banged on Mantra’s bedroom door the next morning.
“Yes.” She had stepped out of the shower and heard Samar.
“How did you end up at The Red Room and who went with you?” Her friend was taken aback.
“That guy from the bar.” Her body jolted to life just at the memory of Yash.
“You went to The Red Room with him?” Samar shrieked.
She wasn’t ready to talk about Yash, but Samar wasn’t going to give up.
“Did you go to The Red Room with him? What are you not telling me?” Samar’s voice blared in the small room.
“Jeez, stop it.”
“How did you… I mean where did you meet him?”
“Because I rear-ended his big-ass car,” she mumbled.
“Holy shit! Now what?”
“I barely touched it, but he still wanted my insurance information,” she complained.
“Does he know?” Samar asked softly.
“What?”
“Well, you scratched his car at the bar and didn’t confess.” She was surprised Samar remembered her details in the state she was in that night.
“I think he does, but he didn’t say much about it. I’m sure he’ll have my insurance pay for everything, so I don’t feel guilty anymore.” Mantra gathered her phone and her backpack. She noticed she had one lone voicemail from an unknown number from earlier that day. She looked at her call list and confirmed it wasn’t Yash’s phone number.
Was she secretly hoping he would call?
“Where are you headed?” Samar asked crashing on her bed.
“To the library. I need to get serious about my thesis.” She ran her fingers through her damp hair.
“You need to stop freaking out about it. You need to do something different for the stress relief… like go on a date with that guy.” Samar giggled.
“Yeah, right!” She frowned. “Got to go.” She stepped out of their apartment and played the voicemail as she walked toward her car.
“Ms. Varma, this is Jill Warren. I am representing Mr. Yash Birla regarding the incident that occurred involving your vehicles. Mr. Birla has decided to file a claim for his damages and bodily injuries sustained in the incident, and I will be your point of contact for the claim.”
Her heart sank as soon as she heard the few words about damages and injuries from the almost robotic woman’s voice.
“That bastard, what injury is he talking about?” she barked at the phone as she dialed back the number of the woman.
“This is Mantra Varma. I am calling you back about Yash… Yash Birla’s claim.” She needed a lot of extra effort to stay calm.
“Thanks for calling me back, Ms. Varma.” The woman’s voice was annoyingly robotic.
“What injury are you talking about? I barely touched him,” she snapped.
“His car, you mean?”
“Yes, his car.” She rolled her eyes.
“He is sending me more details, but the area of injury is in his back
,” the woman declared authoritatively.
“What the heck?”
“If you have any questions, you may reach out to Mr. Birla. We will go ahead with the claim as soon as we hear from him,” the woman declared and ended the call.
“That motherfucker, cheap-ass moron wants to squeeze money out of my insurance company to buy another fucking car,” she growled dialing his number only to be greeted with his voicemail.
She huffed and puffed as she headed straight to The Red Room. She knew she would find him in the restaurant or at his place. She made up her mind to climb the tall fence if she had to and punch him if required.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot she had left in a frenzy the previous day and parked her car right next to his beast. She strode through the main entrance in search of the tallest guy she had met in her life.
A man dressed in business casual greeted her. “Good morning. How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Yash.”
“You must be Mantra, this way please.”
She was taken aback when she realized they were expecting her but quietly followed the guy hoping to settle the claim once and for all.
“Where is he?” She was restless.
“He is in the back working on a special order.” The man turned to look at her smiling politely.
The man started to tiptoe as they got close to a set of double doors. She was amused but followed his lead toward the familiar double doors.
“What is…” Her words were lost in a gasp when she realized the room was full of people dressed in white, and they all turned to look at her. Yash was hovered over the counter and looked up smiling at her.
“Hi, Mantra,” he drawled making her skin tingle. “I’m almost done.”
She stepped away from the entrance and stepped to the side looking at what was shown on the giant TV in the room. It showed something Yash was working on, and it took her a minute, but she recognized it.
The giant thing on the screen looked like a vagina making her turn red at the realization, but the people around her were staring at it like it was art. She took a deep breath realizing it was art in a way, and she recognized the beautiful long fingers that carved out the layers of what seemed like a pastry to mimic the female private part. The room was extremely quiet as if people were lost in the creativity, and she couldn’t get herself to interrupt again.
Something about Yash’s presence turned her on. Every time he tapped or ran his fingertip over the delicate dessert, she felt a tingle deep inside. All she wanted to do was rip her clothes off and beg him to take her enduring whatever he may put her through—pain, pleasure, or even torture. The injury claim was the least of her concerns at the moment.
She had used her showerhead to relieve her stress that morning, and now she had another insurmountable amount of need to implode. She took a few steps back and moved closer to the back wall and watched every move in dead silence, an idea brewing in her head—she found a way to jumpstart her thesis research.
Ten minutes later, he turned to look at the people who were in awe and smiled. “This is what adds to the boldness of The Red Room. Are you ready to make a thousand of these for tonight’s event?”
The room broke into an applause, and a light bulb went off in her head. She stood frozen to her spot wondering if she could use The Red Room ideas for her thesis. The restaurant was bold, and it was all about seduction. It felt like the universe was talking to her and was presenting her the solution to the biggest problem in her life at that point.
If only she could convince Yash to let her observe the couples who go to The Red Room or have a few of her clients she was working with use the restaurant as one of the stages of therapy.
She shook with excitement as idea after idea popped into her brain. The Red Room was the missing piece of the puzzle for her to finish her thesis. It would add so much depth to her thesis if she could research on what a couple’s intimacy was after spending time in a place that screamed sensuality and sex.
She waited with her back to the far end of the wall of the room as the group left. The room seemed to be a chefs’ classroom with the equipment and big screen TVs on each wall. She knew she needed to do what it took to fulfill her dreams of being a successful psychologist specializing in couples’ therapy, even if it meant begging him to let her into the restaurant.
Yash was at the other end of the room, and even with what seemed to be a group of fifty people walk by, their eyes met, and she could not avert her gaze. The attraction was undeniable, and she only had the powers to relish it and not fight it.
He was moving toward her, and she flattened her back further against the wall, her insides clenched and dripping. She wasn’t thinking of the insurance claim anymore or how he made fun of her life choices, but all she wanted was to be able to use his restaurant for her thesis research.
“Good morning.” His smile was nothing but criminal.
She had been in relationships in the past but never felt anything remotely close to what she felt for Yash. She knew it was pure lust, and she was done chastising herself for feeling the need to give into the fatal attraction.
“Are you here to talk about the insurance claim?” His voice was hoarse.
“Yes.” It was getting agonizingly difficult for her to talk.
“Can I go ahead and claim my damages?”
“No,” she whispered like she was under his fucking spell and controlled her body. Her body was extremely aware of him, and she desperately waited for him to touch her, stroke her, and address the growing pain at the apex of her thighs.
“Why are you here, Mantra?” he crooned taking a step back.
“I… I wanted to…” It felt as if she left her brain in the parking lot.
Yash slowly ran his fingers through his hair that was slightly damp. “Can I get you a drink?”
She shook her head unable to talk.
“Why are you here, Mantra?” he repeated after a few more moments of silence.
“I need you to… I barely touched your car, how could you make a claim for injuries? You seem fine,” she managed to say.
He laughed, shaking his head. “You hit me, and I have every right to make a claim for damages and injuries.”
Fear gripped her body when she realized he would do long-term damage with her insurance especially since she was on probation.
“Yash… could you hold off on your claim for a month?”
“Why would I wait?”
“I… I’ll be in a lot of trouble in insurance land… I’m not asking you not to submit a claim, but wait for maybe a month?”
“And why would I do that?”
“Umm…” She didn’t know what to say. Her brain went into a dark place wondering if he was implying something else. She took a deep breath and dug her nails into her palm nervously. “I need you to help me.”
“And why would I want to help you?”
“I will help bring more people to The Red Room.” She was back to thinking on her feet.
He laughed, the mockery burning her on the inside. Yash was the first guy she met who was capable of making her feel the strongest of emotions within seconds. A moment ago, she was lost in her need for him, and moments later she wanted to claw his face off.
“What’s so funny?” She glared at him.
“Do you not realize I am not looking for new customers? The Red Room is booked for months in advance.” Confidence and pride rode his words.
“You are a businessman, and I don’t need to tell you about scaling and growing,” she retorted keeping her cool.
His eyes grazed over her determined expression. “The Red Room is the most desired restaurant because of how exclusive and coveted it is because not everyone can get in.”
“You don’t expect the same people to show up every night forever, do you?” It was her turn to mock.
“What are you proposing?” A smirk played on his face.
“If you don’t submit a claim to m
y insurance, I will work here until you can submit the claim and help bring in more customers.” She managed to keep her voice steady in spite of how close he came to her.
“And why would I want you here? A psychology student in my restaurant,” he almost growled.
“I’ve worked in a restaurant in the past as a hostess and know quite a bit about the operations.”
“You will work here for free.” He sounded like he knew she was up to something. She had hoped to ask him for help with her research but decided against it. Either she would ask him when she is not piling on favors to a stranger or figure out a way to do her research without his knowledge. The idea of doing something in secrecy excited her, especially if it was behind his back. It would be a sweet payback for what he said about couples’ therapy.
“Yes. I will continue to work at the clinic and come here after I am done there. I still think psychology is a very important part of a treatment and it is not fluff.”
A glorious smile appeared on his face. “Someone looked me up.”
“I didn’t have to look you up. I read your book when I still wanted to be a doctor.”
“Interesting.”
“So… are you up for this?”
“I guess so… very interesting,” he teased.
“One month. I will not contest the claim you submit at that point.”
“I need time to think about it.” His voice was steady and cold.
“Yash, it’s now or never. If I leave here with no deal, you will never see me again.” She felt the need to push him, and she did so very carefully.
“What about what we have going on?” he said playfully.
“What are you talking about?” She knew what he was talking about.
“I’m talking about what started at the bar.” His eyes bore into hers.
“Yash, we had nothing but some level of attraction as a result of alcohol. It won’t last, and it’s a matter of days before it reaches its natural death.” She was lying to him and herself because what she had felt was electrifying and very tempting, but she knew better.
