CHAPTER 3: SANGEET BUSINESS

If Kabir Malhotra's Malabar Hill mansion was a fortress of silent intimidation, his luxury penthouse in Lower Parel was a glass-and-steel monument to isolation.

The elevator opened directly into the living room, a space so sterile and minimalist it looked less like a home and more like an upscale art gallery where joy had been banned. The walls were stark white, the furniture was monochromatic charcoal, and the sprawling floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying, unobstructed view of the Mumbai skyline stretching out into the Arabian Sea.

Ananya stood in the center of the room, flanked by two large, colorful suitcases that looked violently out of place against the pristine gray marble floors.

"Your room is down the east corridor. Left at the end," Kabir said, breezing past her without dropping his pace. He had dropped his kit bag by the door and was already heading toward the massive open-concept kitchen. "Vikram has already moved your things in. Don't touch anything in the main living space, don't redecorate, and keep your coffee cups in the sink."

Ananya took a deep breath, counting to ten in her head. Fifty crores for Papa's shop, she reminded herself. Fifty crores.

"Good morning to you too, roommate," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with artificial cheer as she rolled her suitcases down the hall.

Her assigned bedroom was spacious, boasting the same floor-to-ceiling glass windows, but it was just as cold. She kicked off her heels, sank onto the edge of the king-sized bed, and immediately pulled out her iPad. The press release detailing their "sudden, deeply private engagement" had gone live exactly forty-five minutes ago, and the internet was currently imploding.

Her phone began to buzz violently. It was a video call from her mother.

Ananya swallowed the lump of guilt in her throat and hit accept. Instantly, the screen filled with the chaotic, brightly lit frame of her family's living room in Delhi.

"Anni! Hai bhagwan, my daughter is marrying Kabir Malhotra!" Sunita Sharma's voice pierced through the phone's speaker, a mixture of a sob and a shriek. "The neighborhood aunties are ringing our doorbell down every five minutes! Pammi from next door asked if we can get her nephew an internship at the Malhotra Group!"

"Mummy, calm down, breathe," Ananya pleaded, rubbing her temple.

"How can I breathe?" her mother dramatically wailed, fanning herself with a newspaper. "The Malhotra family lawyer called your father this morning. Fifty crores, Anni! The documents are already signed! Satish, come here, talk to your daughter!"

Her father's face appeared in the frame. Satish Sharma looked older, his eyes watery behind his thick glasses, his apron still dusted with flour from the sweet shop. "Beta..." his voice cracked. "Is this... is this real? You never told us you were seeing him. A billionaire, Ananya? A national captain? Are you happy?"

The raw, genuine concern in her father's voice stabbed at Ananya's conscience. She hated lying to them. But looking at the sheer relief on her father's exhausted face-knowing that the crushing debt of the shop was gone overnight-she knew she would do it all over again.

"I am happy, Papa," Ananya lied smoothly, forcing a soft, reassuring smile. "It all happened so fast. You know how intense Kabir's life is. We wanted to keep it private until we were sure."

"He is a bit hot-tempered on TV, beta," Satish murmured anxiously. "I saw the news last night..."

"It's just the stress of the game, Papa. He's actually... very quiet at home," she said, glancing toward the door.

Suddenly, a hand snatched the phone from her father. Her seventeen-year-old brother, Rohan, practically shoved his face into the camera lens. "Ananya! Tell the skipper I've already set my WhatsApp status to #TeamMavericks! Ask him if he can send me a signed match jersey! Better yet, ask him if I can sit in the VIP box for the final!"

"Rohan, shut up and go study!" Ananya snapped, though she couldn't help but laugh. "I have to go, Mummy. Work is crazy. I'll call you tonight, okay? Love you."

She disconnected the call, letting out a long, ragged sigh. She stared at the ceiling, feeling the immense weight of the charade resting squarely on her shoulders.

"Nice performance."

Ananya gasped, jolting upright. Kabir was leaning against her bedroom doorframe, holding a glass of protein shake. He had switched into a pair of athletic shorts, his broad shoulders easily filling the space. His dark eyes were fixed on her, unreadable but intensely observant.

"Do you usually hover outside people's rooms, or is that a captaincy trait?" Ananya asked defensively, smoothing down her hair.

"It's my penthouse. I walk where I want," Kabir replied coolly, taking a sip of his drink. He stepped into the room, his gaze falling on the open legal document on her bed. "Your family seems... loud."

"They're tight-knit," Ananya corrected, her defensive walls instantly going up. "I know that's a foreign concept to the Malhotras, where you communicate exclusively through lawyers and press releases, but some families actually like each other."

A flash of genuine annoyance crossed Kabir's face, but he masked it quickly, walking closer until he stood right at the foot of her bed. "Enjoy the fifty crores, Ananya. You bought your family's happiness. But remember what it cost you."

"I am doing my job, Kabir. I'm saving your career," she shot back, standing up to face him. "And speaking of your career, we have a major problem. Dadi wants a formal, public celebration to seal the narrative. A Sangeet business. A massive party at the Malhotra estate this weekend to show the world we are blissfully in love."

Kabir stiffened. "A Sangeet? Are you out of your mind? I'm in the middle of a tournament."

"The media needs to see you smiling, dancing, and looking like a man who has shifted his priorities from breaking faces to building a life," Ananya explained, slipping back into her professional PR persona. "I've already contacted the designers. We need matching outfits. We need a choreographed dance. And we need to look like we can't keep our hands off each other."

Kabir let out a low, dark chuckle that sounded entirely humorless. He took a step forward, completely invading her personal space. The scent of his crisp cologne and the sheer heat radiating from him made the air in the room feel dangerously thin.

He reached down, his large, calloused hand gently but firmly gripping her chin, forcing her to tilt her face up to his. His thumb brushed against the edge of her jawline, sending an involuntary, electric jolt straight down her spine.

"You want a show, Miss Sharma?" Kabir whispered, his voice a gravelly, dangerous baritone that resonated in her chest. "Fine. We'll give them a show. But when we are under those lights, and I have to act like I love you... make sure you don't forget where the acting ends."

Ananya's heart hammered violently against her ribs, but she refused to back down. She stared straight into his dark, burning eyes, her voice steady despite the breathlessness creeping into her lungs.

"Don't worry, Captain," she whispered back, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips before snapping back to his gaze. "I have excellent boundaries. Let's just hope you can keep up your end of the deal."

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***