It was around half past ten at night. Everyone had retired to their rooms after dinner, and Christian descended the stairs to fetch his black coffee from the kitchen when he received a call from Lia.

“What’s up?” Christian asked, sipping his coffee as he perched on one of the kitchen stools.

“What are you doing? The entire day has passed and I haven’t received a single text from you. Are you already busy with your soon-to-be wife?” Lia complained furiously.

“Jealous?” Christian teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Why would I be jealous of that Mishka? She’s just a temporary arrangement. I’m the permanent one,” Lia stated proudly.

“Bloody hell, how did you manage to say her name so well? I practised overnight and still can’t pronounce it so effortlessly,” Christian said, stunned.

“Haha, anyway, I called to let you know that the contract marriage papers are ready. I just received a message from your irritating lawyer friend, Danny. Now you simply have to persuade her to sign them,” Lia said anxiously, and Christian drew a deep breath.

“Alright, I’ll ring him and—” He was about to continue when he saw Mishka entering the kitchen. She smiled as she passed him and moved towards the counter, glancing around as though searching for something.

“Lia, I’ll call you later. Bye,” he muttered quickly, hanging up before she could reply. He turned to Mishka and walked up behind her.

“Can I help you?” Christian whispered near her ear.

She spun around, and they found themselves face to face, so close that her wildflower fragrance filled his senses.

“You startled me,” she said, placing a hand on her chest.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to ask if you needed anything,” Christian stammered, stepping back to create some space between them.

“It’s alright,” Mishka said. “I’d like some water, but I can’t see any glasses, and there’s no one here to help either.”

“The glasses must be in one of these drawers. Wait, let me check,” Christian said, opening the cabinets of the modular kitchen one by one.

“This is your kitchen and you don’t know where the glasses are kept? I’m surprised,” Mishka mocked lightly.

“I’m helping you, and this is how you repay me? Are these the Indian values Grandpa was talking about?” Christian arched an eyebrow as he opened the last drawer and found a set of wine glasses. He took one out.

“There you are,” he said, handing it to her.

“A wine glass? Honestly?” she laughed, pouring water from the jug. “Thank you.” She smiled and took a slow sip. After finishing the water, she rinsed the glass properly, wiped it dry with a nearby cloth, and placed it neatly back into the cabinet.

"Good night," She then turned to leave when she heard him call out.

"Mih-ka?”

She turned back. “My name is Mishka, not Mahika,” she replied firmly.

“It’s fine. Why did you stop me?” she asked.

“Well, we both know why you’re here,” Christian began, and Mishka suddenly grew nervous, the tips of her ears turning red.

“You probably already know everything, but all of this is entirely new to me,” he continued after a brief pause.

“That’s why I was thinking… why don’t we go out tomorrow evening and try to get to know each other?” Christian asked, meeting her dark brown eyes.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr Knight?” Mishka asked with an amused expression.

“What? No, of course not. I simply want us to get to know each other better. But if you’d prefer to call it a date, I wouldn’t object,” Christian replied calmly.

Mishka chuckled. “Mr Knight, we don’t even have a relationship formally announced, and who knows what tomorrow may bring?” she said.

Christian frowned slightly as she turned to walk away.

She paused and glanced back at him. “And I assume you’ve forgotten that tomorrow is your grandfather’s birthday. There’s a party at your farmhouse, so I doubt we’ll be going anywhere.” She smiled. “Good night.”

Christian watched her retreating figure and dragged a hand over his face. 'How the devil did I forget Grandpa’s birthday?' Christian groaned in frustration.

He dialled Danny’s number, but it was switched off. “He’s probably off with some girl again. Damn you, Danny,” he muttered.

He then dialled Lia’s number but disconnected almost immediately. He knew how dangerous it would be for their plan if someone caught them together, especially after he had told Grandpa they were done.

Christian exhaled through his teeth when an idea struck him. He stepped down from the stool and hurried upstairs.

He knocked on her door, but there was no response.

He knocked again, and this time a faint voice answered before Mishka opened the door a few seconds later.

“Mr Knight? How may I help you?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I was thinking…” he began, scratching his brow and looking at her hopefully.

“Could you help me choose something for Grandpa? I’m awful at buying presents, and if I turn up empty-handed, he’ll take great pleasure in embarrassing me at the party,” he admitted with a sigh.

“So you don’t wish to buy him a gift to make him feel special. You want to avoid being embarrassed?” Mishka raised an eyebrow, and Christian pressed his lips together.

“Come on, it’s not like that. You’ve misunderstood me. Of course, I want to buy something special for him. None of my friends is available at this hour, and you’re his favourite, so you probably know better than anyone what he’d like. Will you please come with me? We’ll have to reach the shopping centre soon, it’s nearly closing time,” Christian urged.

Mishka rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.” She stepped out and closed the door behind her.

“Wait. You can’t go out dressed like that,” Christian said, gesturing towards her outfit. “You need to change.”

“Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Mishka asked.

“We’re going out, for heaven’s sake. You can’t step out like that. As the successor of the Knight Group, I have a reputation to maintain, and the whole of London knows our family. I’d suggest you change into something a bit more suitable. I’ll get changed as well and wait for you in the car,” Christian explained.

“Fine. Fifteen minutes,” she said, closing the door.

Christian waited in the car, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.

The door finally opened, and he glanced up — then momentarily forgot what he had been thinking.

Mishka stepped out wearing fitted black jeans, a black crop top, and a brown leather jacket resting effortlessly on her shoulders.

The same nude five-inch heels clicked confidently against the pavement as she walked towards the car with unhurried grace.

Christian straightened in his seat.

This was not what he had expected.

There was something unapologetically self-assured about her — understated yet striking.

The jacket gave her an edge; the simplicity of black made her presence sharper, more commanding.

She didn’t look like someone trying to impress. She looked like someone who didn’t need to.

She opened the passenger door and slid into the seat beside him.

“Seatbelt,” Christian reminded her, about to start the engine when he noticed she was struggling to fasten it.

“May I?” he asked politely. She nodded.

He leaned closer and realised the seatbelt was stuck. As he adjusted it, his face hovered inches from hers, and once again her wildflower scent enveloped him. Their eyes met while he wrestled with the buckle. At last, it clicked into place. He secured it and started the engine.

Mishka gazed out of the window, quietly enjoying the drive.

“So… do you always wear Western clothes?” Christian ventured.

“Not always, but usually. They’re more comfortable. Why?”

“Just curious. I assumed Indian women were more… traditional,” he said lightly as he pulled up outside the shopping centre. “We’ve arrived.”

The tone did not escape her notice, and she let out a humorless chuckle.

“It seems you’ve formed rather convenient assumptions about India and Indian women,” she replied coolly. “Don’t worry, Mr Knight. I’ll correct them one by one.”

She stepped out of the car, shutting the door with deliberate firmness.

Christian exhaled slowly.

This arrangement, he realised, was not going to be simple at all — and for the first time, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted it to be.