Chapter 20

Aria's POV 

Aria stepped into her villa, barely noticing the stunning interiors, the carefully curated decor, or even the panoramic view of the vast landscapes outside. She was still fuming.

Paul, however, took one look around and whistled.

"Wow. They really rolled out the red carpet for you." He plopped onto a couch, stretching out dramatically. "Meanwhile, the rest of us are stuck in those adorable little cottages. You, however? This is practically a damn palace."

Aria wasn't listening.

She was seething.

What the hell was that performance downstairs?

Kabir had brushed past her like she was a guest, like they hadn't kissed, like he hadn't looked at her like he wanted to devour her just days ago. Then, right on cue, Sanya had thrown herself at him. And he had let her.

Aria exhaled sharply, pacing the length of the room. I don't understand this man.

"Uh-oh." Paul sat up, watching her with amusement. "Your thinking face is on. That can't be good."

She turned on him. "He's insufferable, that's what it is."

Paul propped his chin on his hand. "And yet, you can't stop thinking about him. Fascinating."

She opened her mouth to argue—then snapped it shut when something on the bedside table caught her eye.

A black box.

And a folded note beside it.

She frowned, approaching cautiously. Paul leaned forward in interest.

"Oh, what's this?"

Aria snatched up the note before he could grab it.

I figured you'd want to see what this place looks like at night. I've reserved a stretch of road just for you. There's an Aston Martin DB12 waiting. Take a drive.

—K.

Aria froze.

She read it once. Then again.

He remembered.

That night by the bar, when Aarav had casually mentioned her obsession with cars, her love for driving at night, the way it made her feel free. She hadn't even thought Kabir was paying attention.

But he had been.

Paul, ever the nosy assistant, snatched the note from her hands. He scanned it, then gave her a knowing smirk.

"You know what this means, right?"

Aria folded her arms. "That he's trying to manipulate me?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "That he likes you, dumbass."

She scoffed. "It's just a car."

Paul grinned. "Aston Martin DB12. Reserved roads. Custom driving gloves, if I had to guess."

He wasn't wrong.

She opened the box—and there they were.

A sleek, black pair of gloves, perfectly fitted, perfectly her.

Paul exhaled like he'd just been hit by a revelation. "Jesus. The man is Mr. Darcy."

Aria gave him a look. "Excuse me?"

Paul gestured wildly. "The grand gestures? The brooding? The pretend indifference? Classic Darcy behavior. But instead of writing you a long letter about ardently admiring you, he got you a goddamn car."

Aria ignored the sudden warmth creeping up her neck. Instead, she picked up one of the gloves, slipping her fingers into it.

It fit perfectly.

Paul let out a low whistle. "Tell me again how you're not into him."

Aria flexed her fingers, testing the feel of the leather. Damn him. It was perfect.

She exhaled sharply. This doesn't mean anything.

Paul, reading her like a book, flopped onto the bed. "Alright, time for a pros and cons list."

Aria groaned. "Paul—"

"Nope. This is happening. You're spiraling, and when you spiral, you get stupid. Pro: He listens. Con: He's annoying."

"Pro: He's an incredible kisser," she muttered before she could stop herself.

Paul bolted upright.

"YOU KISSED HIM?!"

Aria winced. "Paul—"

"You actually kissed him?! And you didn't tell me?!"

"Paul, shut up."

Paul dramatically clutched his chest. "I have been robbed of crucial information. My life is a lie. I thought we were friends—"

"It just happened, okay?" she snapped, heat rising to her face. Why did I say that out loud?

Paul smirked. "Oh, babe. You're so whipped."

Aria buried her face in her hands. "I hate you."

Paul grinned. "Love you too. But real question—what are you gonna do about this whole mysterious, ridiculously romantic, go-drive-an-Aston-Martin-at-midnight thing?"

She sighed, collapsing onto the bed. "I have no idea."

Paul stood, stretching. "I'm gonna let you sit with your feelings for a while. Take a nap. Maybe you'll wake up with clarity." He winked, grabbing his bag. "Or at least an answer."

Aria scowled at him as he strolled out, whistling.

But sleep wouldn't come.

Her mind was restless.

After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, she grabbed her phone.

Aria: So you think bribing me with an Aston Martin is the way to get me to forgive you?

The reply came almost instantly.

Kabir: You wound me, Aria. I simply thought you'd appreciate a proper introduction to my resort.

Aria: That's what this is? A resort introduction?

Kabir: Of course. All business.

Aria: Right. Because you're known for keeping things strictly business.

Kabir: You're learning. I'm a professional.

She snorted.

Aria: If you were a professional, you wouldn't have let Sanya drape herself all over you in the lobby.

There was a pause.

Then—

Kabir: You jealous, Ms. Vijay?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Aria: I don't do jealous.

Kabir: Mm. Keep telling yourself that.

Aria: You're insufferable.

Kabir: You're adorable when you lie.

Heat flushed through her chest.

Damn him.

Aria: Forget the car. I don't need favors.

Kabir: It's not a favor. It's an invitation.

Kabir: One you don't have to accept.

Her fingers hesitated over the screen.

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't.

But her pulse was thrumming in a way she didn't like.

Aria: I'll think about it.

Kabir: I'll be waiting.

Aria locked her phone, exhaling sharply.

He was impossible.

But damn it, he knew exactly how to get under her skin.

And worse?

She liked it.