174. OS 7: The Other Woman (Part 42)

Part 42

Khushi placed the receiver in its cradle with a smile and turned to look at the file on her table.

She frowned.

She could feel his eyes on her, slowly making their way over her hair, face, her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her...Her lips trembled as she tried to control her breathing.

She looked up.

Tempting Singh Raizada stood leaning against the door of her office, his arms crossed over his midriff, his head cocked, his eyes intent on her.

“Aaaap...” she tried to exclaim, her hand on her heart.

“Hhmmm,” he agreed, his eyes seeing more than she wanted him to see. “Kya hua, Khushi?” he drawled, his gaze trapped by the throbbing pulse at her neck.

“You..you scared me,” she blurted out.

“I did?” he asked solicitously. He ambled towards her, his wicked eyes trapping hers.

Khushi stood up hastily.

He took her hand and led her away from the safety of the table.

He cupped her face and lowered his head to capture her lips.

Before his hard lips could touch hers, she whispered, “Shyamji...the office.”

“Jiju knows I am here,” he whispered.

“Koi dekh lega,” her lips trembled.

“Dekhne do,” he murmured, his breath tingling the fine hairs on her skin.

“Arnavji,” she protested weakly.

“I am kissing my wife,” Arnav stated. “Who can object to that?”

“Your office,” she reminded him.

“It will not collapse if I am a few minutes late from lunch,” he breathed against her lips before kissing her as they both longed for him to do.

Many long moments later, Khushi whispered against his neck, “You are totally shameless, you Rake Singh Raizada.”

“Get used to it, Mrs. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada,” he smiled against her hair.

Her arms tightened around his shoulders. “We are really married!” she was full of wonder.

“I thought I cleared your doubts on our suhaag raat,” he laughed.

Khushi tickled him. “You..you..Scamp Singh Raizada,” she muttered, her face a big blush.

“Three weeks after marriage and you are still blushing?” Arnav teased, trapping her hands in his.

“What can I do? I have this husband who,” she stopped.

“Who?” he asked, his rough, lean cheek rubbing against her soft, plump one.

Khushi buried her face in his neck and mumbled.

“What?” he asked.

“Who lives to put me to shame,” she completed.

“Really?” he asked innocently. “What did I do?” he asked.

Khushi fired up. “What did you do? Poochiye what you did not do!” She moved away slightly.

“What didn’t I do?” he asked obediently, his eyes twinkling.

Khushi poked him in the gut.

He jumped and laughed out aloud.

“Look at him laughing,” Khushi grumbled. “Wretch Singh Raizada! What did you do at arti today morning?”

“Kya kiya, Khushi?” he asked, his eyes dancing merrily.

“You pinched me,” she accused him.

“That was your fault, Khushi,” he chuckled.

“My fault? How did it become my fault?” she asked, outraged.

“You should not have worn that red sari,” he informed her. “Or let me catch a glimpse of your bare waist.”

Khushi gasped. “What about breakfast today?” she asked, her eyes wide with indignation.

“What about breakfast?” he asked.

“You kissed my neck when Nani wasn’t looking!” she complained.

“I didn’t,” he disclaimed all knowledge.

“Arnavji!” Khushi placed her hands on her hips in challenge.

“I kissed the mangalsutra I placed around your neck, not your neck,” he claimed.

Khushi huffed and puffed in exasperation.

He pulled her in to his arms, but before she could argue anymore, a knock sounded on the open panel of the door.

Khushi leaped out of his arms and turned her head to see Shyamji standing at the door. She blushed a lovely shade of rose.

Shyam manfully turned his eyes away from her face and struggled not to laugh.

“Chotey, the next time you come here, you will have to look for Khushi in the room behind the storeroom,” Shyam said.

Arnav looked his question at his Jiju.

“No one uses that storeroom and Khushi’s new office has a lock,” Shyam looked away from Arnav’s pleased face to stop himself from guffawing.

Shyam spared one glance at Khushi’s red, tomatowala face.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off, Khushi?” he asked. “Go and keep Arnav company in his office. You can lunch together and plan your honeymoon.”

“Thank you, Jiju,” Arnav was one pleased camper.

“Par Shyamji,” Khushi demurred.

“How can you be sure that he has taken his lunch if you don’t keep an eye on him?” Shyam asked. “You know what he is.”

Khushi had to nod. “Shukriya, Shyamji.”

“No, thank you, Khushi,” Shyam smiled gently. “For marrying this Lattoo Singh Raizada and putting him out of pain.”

Khushi and Arnav beamed at the Sutradhar of their tale.

The End