Twelve Hours of Temptation Page 9

  SIX

  ‘Don’t forget about the dinner tonight,’ Samir warned Melissa as she got out of the car in front of the agency. ‘I’ve got meetings at Maximus the whole day—I’ll send the car for you and meet you directly at the party.’

  The last time they’d planned to go out for dinner Samir had come home to find Melissa sitting at her laptop in a tattered pair of pyjamas, happily humming under her breath as she worked on her latest writing project. The minor fact that they had a reservation at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town had completely slipped her mind.

  This time, though, it was hardly likely she’d forget the party, Melissa thought as Samir drove off. It was a kind of milestone in their relationship, because it was the first time she’d be meeting any of Samir’s family—the dinner was at his cousin’s home to celebrate her fifteenth wedding anniversary.

  ‘Nervous?’ Neera asked later as Melissa grabbed the bag with her evening clothes and headed off to the women’s room to change.

  Melissa grimaced. ‘A bit,’ she said. ‘Samir’s cousin is a total socialite. Not quite gossip column material, but she does a lot of fundraisers with NGOs and charities. I’ve never met that kind of person before—I’m dreading it.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Neera said comfortably. ‘Just be confident and be yourself. What are you wearing?’

  It was easy, telling her to be herself, Melissa thought resentfully. Neera wasn’t the one who’d have to go meet a bunch of notoriously bitchy South Mumbai socialites, most of whom would look down their pedigree noses at her. And, while Samir hadn’t mentioned it, she knew that more than one woman had nursed hopes of hooking up with him—a lot of those pedigree noses had been put out of joint when she’d appeared on the scene.

  She pulled the dress she was planning to wear out of the bag and showed it to Neera. ‘Does it look OK?’ she asked. It was beige with a black trim and a deceptively simple cut that flattered Melissa’s slim figure, making her look taller and curvier at the same time.

  Neera wrinkled up her nose. ‘It’s nice enough, but it’s a little dull. Why aren’t you wearing the orange dress you bought when we went shopping together to Bandra? That looks great on you—really makes you stand out.’

  ‘I don’t want to stand out tonight. I want to blend in,’ Melissa retorted. There were several reasons why she’d chosen the beige over the orange—it looked classier, for one, and though it was cheaper it was a far better brand. Export surplus that sold at one fourth of the retail price—but hopefully no one at the party would know that.

  When she came out of the cubicle a few minutes later, Neera nodded in approval. ‘It looks a lot better with you in it,’ she said. ‘I wish I had a bust like yours. And a waistline like yours, for that matter. Come here and let me help you with your make-up.’

  Ten minutes later she was ready to go, and she slipped her feet into nude pumps as she waved to Neera and hurried out of the office and into the waiting car. ‘Mrs Kaul’s place in Malabar Hill,’ she told Samir’s driver.

  ‘Do we pick sahib up on the way?’ the driver wanted to know.

  Melissa shook her head. ‘No, he’s probably already there. He’s hitching a ride with a friend.’

  Except that he wasn’t—when she reached Priyanka Kaul’s plush flat she was told that Samir hadn’t yet arrived.

  ‘He messaged me to say that he’s running a little late,’ Priyanka said in her perfectly modulated voice. ‘But it’s so lovely to see you. Let me introduce you around to a few people so that you don’t get bored. Everyone knows Samir, and they’re dying to meet you.’

  As far as Melissa was concerned, she could think of nothing worse, but there was no way she could wriggle out of the introductions without being impossibly rude to her hostess.

  ‘So you’ve actually moved in with Samir?’ one of the women asked. She was skinny to the point of emaciation, and had evidently been smoking continuously for a while as the ashtray in front of her was loaded with cigarette butts. ‘That’s pretty unusual, isn’t it? Even in this day and age.’

  ‘Oh, it’s very common for advertising agency folk,’ another woman said. ‘I did a few weeks in an ad agency once when I was really bored. Pretty promiscuous, I thought. Half the women were living with someone or the other. Though I must say most of them had grotty little flats in God-forsaken places like Chandivali and Vasai. Samir’s place must be heaven in comparison.’

  ‘Where did you live before you hooked up with Samir?’ the first woman asked.

  ‘Colaba,’ Melissa said shortly. She didn’t explain about the working women’s hostel.

  Colaba was as nice as you could get in South Mumbai, and the woman looked a little disappointed. She’d probably hoped to hear that Melissa had lived in cockroach-ridden paying guest accommodation miles out of town.

  Priyanka came up in time to hear the last bit of the conversation. ‘I was so excited when I heard about you,’ she said. ‘One of my closest friends stays in the same apartment block as Samir, and she told me first. Then, of course, when Samir called next he told me he had a new girlfriend.’

  ‘And a very pretty girlfriend too,’ Priyanka’s husband said, coming to stand next to her.

  ‘Thanks, Anil,’ Melissa muttered, feeling stunned. She’d always thought of Mumbai as being large and anonymous—it had never occurred to her that people she didn’t even know might be talking about her and Samir. No wonder Samir was more conscious of appearances than she was.

  ‘Samir’s mother will be on the phone with Priyanka as soon as the party’s over,’ Anil said. ‘We’re actually more her generation than yours, and she keeps checking in with us about how he’s doing. Samir’s not the most communicative of sons.’

  His mother? Melissa hadn’t realised that Samir’s mum even knew she existed, let alone that she was keeping track of the parties she attended and calling up people to ask about her afterwards. Priyanka was frowning at Anil now—evidently he wasn’t supposed to have shared that last titbit.

  ‘I wonder what’s keeping Samir?’ she asked, glancing at her watch. ‘He said he’d be here by eight-thirty.’

  ‘It’s Janmashtami,’ Melissa said. ‘There are dahi-handis set up all across town and the traffic’s bad. He must have got stuck at Worli after he got off the sea link.’

  ‘There’s always something or the other happening in this city,’ one of Anil’s friends said. ‘It’s terrible the way they hold up everything just because of some archaic festival. It’s barbaric, the way they make human pyramids to knock down that ridiculous pot of curds. And all for some piddly cash prize.’

  ‘Ah, but the prize isn’t piddly by common man standards,’ a third man said.

  He was thin and wiry, and his wire-framed spectacles gave him a permanently cynical expression. Vikas Kulkarni—that was his name, Melissa remembered. He was the only person in the group other than Priyanka and Anil that Samir had ever mentioned to her. Evidently a bit of a non-conformist, he gave the rest of the group a slow smile that Anil at least appeared to find intensely annoying. ‘And, as for being barbaric, wasn’t it one of you who was raving about breaking piñatas in Mexico?’

  The man who’d originally called the festival barbaric flushed and was about to say something when Priyanka broke in, ‘Oh, but it’s not the same thing at all—is it, Vikas? I can’t imagine why people would want to spend months practising for something like the dahi-handi.’

  ‘It’s rather fun, actually,’ Melissa said. ‘Last year a group of us joined an all-girls team and we used to practise three days a week.’

  She didn’t add that practising had been far more fun that the actual Janmashtami celebrations—the pandals had been packed with people and one of the girls had been groped in the crowd. Oh, and they hadn’t won anything because the team had been able to form only five tiers of the pyramid. Other girl govin
da teams were able to do six, and male teams went up to seven and eight.

  There was a second’s silence—they all looked as shocked as if she’d confessed to soliciting customers at Kamathipura on weekends, Melissa thought, trying to stifle the fit of giggles that threatened to overcome her. Even Vikas, the spectacled non-conformist, looked a little taken aback.

  ‘Did you win?’ Priyanka’s thirteen-year-old daughter asked interestedly.

  Damn kids—they always came up with questions one didn’t want to answer.

  Melissa shook her head. ‘We weren’t good enough,’ she said succinctly.

  ‘It’s about participating, Nysa, not winning,’ Priyanka said in reproving tones.

  Vikas winked at Nysa. ‘Remind her she said that when you appear for your board exams,’ he said, and everyone laughed.

  Priyanka grimaced. ‘One can tell you don’t have kids, Vikas,’ she said. ‘You’re such a subversive influence.’

  Nysa sidled up to Melissa. ‘Mum says you write ads?’ she asked. ‘And you won an award at the festival?’

  Melissa nodded. Priyanka and Samir didn’t look like each other at all, but there was a strong resemblance between Nysa and him—a throwback to a previous generation, perhaps.

  ‘I read some of your ads,’ Nysa said. ‘They’re, like, quite cool. Though I didn’t like the baby one that much—the one that got the award.’

  Melissa smiled. There was something rather endearing about the girl.

  ‘Samir Uncle says that’s because I’m not part of the target audience,’ Nysa went on. ‘Sounds weird. Target audience. Like you’re at rifle class or something. That’s my target audience—boom-boom.’

  OK, this was surreal. Samir had discussed her ads with his cousin’s daughter. What was she, a specialist subject for their next family quiz show? Trying not to show her annoyance, she smiled dutifully at Nysa’s joke.

  ‘D’you want to see around the house?’ Nysa asked. ‘You haven’t been here before, have you?’

  ‘Yes, sure,’ Melissa said. It would be better than standing around trying to be polite to a bunch of people she devoutly hoped she’d never have to meet again in her life.

  The house was large and furnished with the most impeccable taste—it still felt like a home, though, and not like a museum, and Melissa felt some of her initial hostility fade. People’s spaces said a lot about them. Samir’s flat screamed ‘keep your distance’, but this one invited you in, made you feel welcome.

  ‘And this is my room,’ Nysa said, throwing open a dark blue door at the end of a passageway.

  As expensively furnished as the other rooms, it was still a typical teenager’s cluttered mess, with boy band posters on the walls and clothes strewn extravagantly over every possible surface. What caught Melissa’s attention, though, was a big drum set that occupied half the room.

  ‘This is yours?’ she asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Who else’s would it be—Priyanka’s? No wonder teenagers thought that adults were as thick-headed as turnips.

  ‘Yes,’ Nysa said and added gloomily, ‘Mum got the door soundproofed. She wanted me to learn the violin.’

  Melissa couldn’t help grinning at that—though she didn’t blame Priyanka, really. With her waif-like build and waist-length hair Nysa would look perfect in a white floaty dress on a concert stage.

  She stepped into the room and shut the soundproof door behind her. ‘May I?’ she asked, gesturing towards the drumsticks that Nysa was fiddling with.

  Nysa’s ‘You play?’ was almost as incredulous as Priyanka’s reaction to her govinda skills.

  ‘You bet I do,’ Melissa said, pulling up a stool and grabbing the sticks before Nysa could change her mind. ‘My brother taught me—I took his place in the college band when he graduated.’

  My God, it felt brilliant, getting her hands on the drums again. Even better than being back in a proper kitchen and almost as good as sex. And it was amazing the way the old beats came back to her, though it had been four years since she’d last played on stage.

  When Samir arrived ten minutes later Melissa was still holed up with Nysa. ‘Happy anniversary,’ he said, leaning down to hug his cousin. ‘And congratulations on the new project—I believe everyone’s completely blown away by it.’

  Priyanka had just put together a massive fundraiser for the launch of a new medical charity, and it had been a spectacular success.

  Samir’s eyes automatically scanned the room for a familiar slim figure. ‘Priyanka, where’s Melissa?’ he asked. He hadn’t checked if she’d reached the party OK—for a second all kinds of horrifying scenarios crossed his mind.

  Priyanka looked up from the designer arrangement of silk flowers he’d given her. ‘Oh, she’s around,’ she said. ‘I think Nysa took her to show her round the house. Such a sweet girl.’

  ‘Who? Nysa?’ Samir asked, grinning because he knew who she meant.

  Priyanka shuddered. ‘Nysa’s a nightmare right now,’ she said. ‘Going through one of those teenage phases. I meant Melissa—she’s so sparky and confident—I’m completely in love with her.’

  ‘And she is going to tell your mother she approves, I believe,’ Vikas murmured as he came up to Samir. ‘I think you should prepare for some serious pressure from the female half of your family.’

  Samir groaned. His mother had graduated from wanting to choose a bride for him to eagerly gathering information about every woman he dated in the hope that he’d finally settle down and give her the grandchildren she wanted.

  ‘I approve too, by the way,’ Vikas said.

  Samir frowned. Vikas was notoriously picky and difficult to please. ‘What exactly has Melissa been doing since she got here?’

  Vikas put his head to one side, rather like an inquisitive sparrow. ‘Wellll,’ he drawled, ticking off the points on his fingers, ‘she’s managed to deal with your bitchy ex-admirers over there without bursting into tears or clawing their eyes out. And she put a bunch of people in their place when they sneered at dahi-handis. She’s corrected my English twice—once when I said “keep” instead of “put” and once when I said “improvise” when I meant “improve”. And now she’s gone off to play drums with Priyanka’s daughter, I believe. I went inside to use the washroom and the door to that kid’s room isn’t as soundproof as our hosts would like to believe. Nysa’s not bad at the drums, but she’s still learning. I’ll eat my best tie if it’s her playing right now.’

  Luckily Vikas didn’t have to perform the threatened gastronomic feat, because when Samir pushed open the door to Nysa’s room Melissa was banging out a hard rock rhythm while Nysa gazed at her in awestruck admiration. Her cheeks were glowing with the effort, and her flyaway hair had come loose and was tumbling around her shoulders.

  ‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said, pausing mid-beat and looking up at him, evidently conscience-stricken at having abandoned the party. ‘I’m so sorry. I lost track of the time a little.’

  Samir had a sudden impulse to sweep her off her feet and kiss her—she looked so naturally lovely. But Vikas and Nysa were looking on interestedly, so he contented himself with dropping a chaste kiss on her brow and putting an arm around her as he shepherded her to the door.

  Melissa found the rest of the evening surprisingly enjoyable. Vikas was clearly a bit of a trendsetter among Priyanka’s friends, and because he’d taken an abrupt liking to Melissa the others started treating her less like an interloper. Samir didn’t speak much, but she was conscious of his quiet strength by her side all along.

  ‘Wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be, right?’ Samir asked later as they drove home.

  Melissa shot him a startled look, and he laughed.

  ‘You’re pretty easy to read,’ he said, putting a hand on her knee and sending an automatic little thrill up her thigh. ‘Relax—they all loved you.�
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  Really? she felt like saying. What about the two women I met at the beginning? They’d still looked at her as if she was some kind of cheap slut when she left.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned it’s more important what I thought of them than what they thought of me,’ she announced. ‘I liked Vikas, and your cousin and Nysa. Didn’t really care for the rest.’

  That was so typical, Samir thought, half amused and half exasperated. He was conscious that he’d wanted to see if she’d fit into his circle—it was important that she did if they were to have any kind of future together. She’d done amazingly well, keeping up a light, easy conversation without being sycophantic or intimidated. Trust her to have a completely different take on the situation, though.

  When they got home Melissa brushed her teeth and went to bed while Samir was checking the mail that had come for him during the day. It had been a long day, and she was a little upset, and frankly feeling rather stupid. Of course he was more worried about her making some dreadful faux pas in front of his friends than he was about whether she liked them or not. She’d been dumb to think that her opinion would matter to him in the slightest.

  Feeling hot tears prick at her eyelids, she blinked them back. It wasn’t the end of the world, being at cross purposes with a boyfriend. She should be used to it by now—it had happened before. But Josh hadn’t given out confusing signals like Samir did—he’d just not been in love with her.

  Samir hadn’t said he was in love with her either, but it was clear he was serious about their relationship. Introducing her to his cousin and his friends had made it seem as if he wanted to take things to the next level—as far as Melissa was concerned, though, she’d be happier if they first made up their minds about each other before they got other people involved.

  Only Samir hadn’t asked her. He’d evidently expected that she’d be overjoyed at the thought of being his official girlfriend rather than staying tucked away in an airtight corner of his life.