Chapter 32

The resort had never felt this different before.

Aria knew it was because the Meraki team had left, leaving only her and Kabir in this massive, stunning sanctuary of a place. It should have felt isolating. Maybe even uncomfortable. But somehow, it wasn't.

It felt… peaceful.

Their walk had been easy, something she wasn't used to with him. They had talked—really talked—without the sharp edges, without the need to win. And now, as they walked back toward the main property, Aria realized that for the first time, she wasn't mentally preparing for the next battle.

She was just… enjoying his company.

Kabir glanced at her. "Hungry?"

She smiled. "Starving. And if you even think of suggesting something light and healthy, I'm going to have to reconsider this whole arrangement."

His smirk was immediate. "Noted."

Instead of heading toward the usual dining areas, he led her toward a more private section of the resort—a glass-walled dining room overlooking the hills, nestled away from the main restaurants.

Aria raised an eyebrow. "Private dining? Should I be impressed or suspicious?"

Kabir pulled out a chair for her, something so instinctive that she nearly missed it. "Both."

She sat, watching as he took the seat across from her. "So, tell me, Mr. Oberoi, what's your deal with food? Are you a snob? A picky eater? Or do you actually enjoy eating?"

He leaned back slightly, studying her. "I like food, but I don't overanalyze it."

Aria gasped dramatically. "Tragic."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Let me guess—you do."

She straightened. "I take food very seriously. It's an experience. A science. An art."

"That's a lot of pressure on a meal."

She narrowed her eyes. "That's the difference between people who eat and people who love food."

He looked amused. "And which category do I fall into?"

She smirked. "You tell me."

The server arrived, setting down the menu, but Aria barely glanced at it before speaking. "I'll have the lamb biryani. And the pineapple and saffron panna cotta for dessert."

Kabir raised an eyebrow. "You barely looked."

She shrugged. "I read menus like novels. Already did a deep dive on the resort's restaurant weeks ago."

He looked genuinely impressed. "That's… unexpected."

"You say that like I don't have layers."

"You do," he admitted. "I just like discovering them."

That shouldn't have made her heart flip, but it did.

She cleared her throat. "Alright, your turn. What's your order?"

He glanced at the menu briefly before closing it. "Lamb biryani."

Aria blinked. "You're copying me?"

"I like biryani."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"You think I'd lie about food?"

"I think you're humoring me."

His smirk deepened but he said nothing, and she knew she was right.

As they waited for their meal, the conversation flowed. She told him about how her mother used to take her to local markets in different cities, how she'd learned early on to appreciate the little details—textures, aromas, the way food could tell a story. He listened, asking just the right questions, engaging in a way that wasn't forced.

And she learned things about him too. That he preferred bold, spicy flavors over delicate ones. That he hated mushrooms because he once had a terrible experience at a Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris. That he appreciated good food but had never taken the time to explore it the way she had.

Somewhere between the main course and dessert, she realized how effortless this was.

She was used to sharp banter with him, used to arguments and power plays. But this? This was different.

And she liked it.

Just as they were finishing their meal, her phone buzzed on the table.

Aarav.

The moment she saw his name, she felt Kabir go still. He didn't say anything, but she could feel the shift. The way his jaw tensed, the way his gaze flickered ever so slightly before returning to his plate.

He wasn't angry. Not exactly.

But he was waiting.

Aria exhaled and picked up the phone, answering it on speaker.

"Aarav, if you're calling to complain about me abandoning you—"

Aarav's laugh came through the line. "Abandoning? You mean ditching me to stay back with a certain billionaire? Yes, I do have complaints."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm working."

"Is that what we're calling it now?"

She heard Kabir let out a slow breath through his nose, but he didn't speak.

Aarav's voice turned slightly more serious. "Just checking in, though. You okay?"

She softened. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Aarav."

"Okay, okay." He sighed dramatically. "I'm just saying. You tend to overthink things and run when you don't know what to do."

Aria felt Kabir's attention sharpen at that, but she ignored it.

"I'm not running," she said firmly. "And I'm not overthinking."

"Well, that's a first." Aarav laughed. "Alright, I'll stop bothering you. But if you disappear for a week and start sounding suspiciously happy, I'll know something's up."

"Goodbye, Aarav."

"Give Kabir my love."

She hung up, sighing.

The moment she set the phone down, she turned to Kabir. "Before you even think of asking, Aarav is like my overprotective little brother. Always has been."

Kabir's expression was unreadable at first, but after a beat, he nodded.

"You didn't have to tell me that," he said, voice quieter now.

She shrugged. "I wanted to."

And just like that, the tension eased.

Something shifted—not dramatically, not with grand declarations, but in a way that was clear enough.

He trusted her.

She respected him enough to tell him, and he respected her enough to listen.

They finished the rest of their meal in silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was… steady.

As they got up to leave, Kabir turned to her casually. "You up for a spa treatment?"

She blinked. "A spa?"

He smirked. "Massage, sauna, whatever you want."

She grinned. "Oh, I love massages. Consider me there."

He chuckled, leading the way. "I should've guessed."

As they walked back toward the resort, something settled between them.

Not tension. Not hesitation.

Something easier.

Something inevitable.