Page 151 of No Boss
His fingers moved just above her collarbone. “The neckline should be lower than what she planned.”
Her breath caught.
His hand slid to her arm.
“The sleeves…” his fingers paused above her elbow, warm against her skin, “…end here.”
He traced the line down, stopping just below where her bangles would rest. His touch lingered. “So this stays visible.”
His hand turned, palm against hers, thumb moving across the centre of her palm.
“Here,” he murmured, voice softer now. “My name.”
Her fingers curled against his without thought.
“And the skirt,” he continued softly, “should move when you walk.”
His hand returned to her waist, drawing her closer.
“Because when you walk, everyone will look at you.”
His eyes stayed on her.
“I want them to know, at once, that they are looking at someone who is mine.”
Her lips parted. Words refused to form.
“Also,” he added, almost light, though his hold did not loosen, “your hair stays down.”
She turned away, pressing her face into her hands, her shoulders trembling.
He drew her back against him, satisfied, his mouth brushing her temple.
“My opinion counts,” he murmured. “Because Meera Chauhan, you are going to be my wife.”
Morning Three
“Tell me about your school,” she asked softly.
He was quiet for a moment.
She lay against him, her head over his heart, his arms around her. The courtyard had begun to feel like their own little world.
“Boarding school. From class six. Raghav was my roommate. He ate my biscuits and denied it for three weeks.”
She looked up, smiling. “Did he?”
“I had proof. He still denies it.”
Her fingers traced patterns along his sleeve.
“I didn’t like it at first,” he went on. “The first month, I called Papa every night.”
She paused.
A younger version of him rose in her mind. Alone. Holding on to a voice that made the unfamiliar bearable.
“And after that?” she asked quietly.
