Khushi POV
“No wine,” I said quickly, interrupting him.
He turned to me, brows raised slightly.
“It’s still daytime,” i said, half embarrassed. “And you need to drive too. You shouldn’t drink wine. Even I… I don’t drink.”
There was a pause—and then, surprisingly, he chuckled.
A real one.
He turned back to the waiter and adjusted the order. “No wine.”
The waiter blinked. Shocked. The man had seen ministers, CEOs, and diplomats. But never had he seen someone stophim—Luca Volkov—in the middle of a sentence. And succeed.
He nodded quickly and scurried away.
That was when the real whispering started behind the service counter. Waiters whispering to chefs, waiters whispering to each other. The international mafia don—the man whispered about in back alleys and boardrooms—had not only smiled, he had listened. To her.
But I didn’t know that. I was too busy watching Luca again.
He leaned back in his chair, seemingly unbothered. But there was a softness to his expression now. As if something I’d said had struck a pleasant chord inside him.
And I couldn’t stop staring.
Neither could he.
There was a quiet moment—too quiet—and it lingered. His eyes didn’t waver. He was staring at me, yes, but not like other men did. Not like strangers on the street. He stared like he was searching for something he already knew existed. As if he saw through the mask I’d been wearing all my life.
I looked away first. My heart was suddenly too loud in my ears. I have never in my life came for lunch with any man alone.
A few moments later, a new figure approached the table. The restaurant manager—dressed in an impeccable suit and speaking with a crisp smile.
“Hello sir, ma’am,” he greeted warmly. “Hope your day is going well. Our restaurant is hosting a small challenge today. Would you like to know more about it?”
I perked up. “Yes, sure! Tell us.”
Luca turned his face toward me, letting me speak first. His gaze never left me.
The manager continued, “It’s a simple challenge. Any couple who stays longer than our previous record without getting bored—or leaving the table—will get their entire meal free of charge. If you win this challenge, you won’t have to pay for anything you eat today. We think you two make a beautiful couple—would you like to participate?”
My jaw dropped slightly. My brain short-circuited.
Wait, is this God answering my financial prayers in real time?!
My eyes lit up like fireworks.
“Of course! We’d love to be part of the challenge. What’s the last record of the couple staying?”
The manager turned to Luca briefly, who subtly held up five fingers under the table, in a way only the manager could see.
Without hesitation, the manager turned back to me and said smoothly, “Fifty minutes.”
I smiled even wider, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.
The moment the manager said “50 minutes,” something in me clicked. Maybe it was the desperation of not wanting to go broke. Maybe it was something else entirely. Luca was about to speak, maybe even protest lightly, but just then—he froze.
I placed my hand gently over his.
“We’ll stay for seventy minutes,” I said confidently.
His hand tensed under my hands, and for a heartbeat I thought I’d made a mistake. But then he relaxed, lips twitching slightly at the corners. Not a full smile, but the shadow of one.
The manager bowed quickly, as if terrified to even breathe too long in Luca’s presence, and practically scuttled away.
And just like that, we were in a challenge I didn’t even fully understand, seated in what looked like the most luxurious restaurant in the city, pretending to be a couple.
Pretending.
I let go of his hand slowly, trying to play it off like I hadn’t just impulsively grabbed one of the most powerful men on the planet. My cheeks burned. I picked up the menu again, trying to hide behind it. As if thin paper could save me from the mess I’d just created.
“I didn’t know you were competitive,” Luca said after a moment, his voice casual, teasing.
I lowered the menu just enough to peer at him. “I’m not. I’m just... strategic. Why pay thousands when I can pay zero?”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Fair point. So are we a couple now?”
I looked at him, “A couple just for seventy minutes, you wouldn’t mind would you?”
He nodded a no and said something slowly, I heard it but not sure if I heard it correct. “I wouldn’t mind for lifetime.”
The waiter returned with water and their signature complimentary bread—crisp, golden, brushed with garlic and herbs. I took one small piece and chewed slowly, still aware of where I was, how surreal everything felt.
I glanced around the restaurant again. Everything was polished: glass chandeliers, velvet chairs, soft music that made your heart slow down even if your thoughts were in chaos.
And then I looked at him again—Luca. The man who saved me. The man who looked like he belonged in a world I only saw on Pinterest boards and in old French movies. What was I doing here?
“So,” I ventured cautiously, sipping water to cool my nerves, “do you do this often?”
His eyebrows rose. “Dine?”
“No. I mean—invite college girls to lunch in high-end restaurants where food costs more than tuition.”
He laughed again—this time more fully—and I blinked. I hadn’t realized how rare it was to hear him laugh like that. It was deep, smooth, but somehow private too, as if only I was meant to hear it.
“I don’t,” he said, still smiling. “In fact… this is a first.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “And why me then?”
There was a beat. He didn’t look away.
“Because you intrigue me,” he said quietly.
I looked down, my heart suddenly not beating at all. Or maybe it was beating too loud for me to hear anything else.
“I’m really not that interesting,” I mumbled, focusing very hard on the embroidery of the napkin.
“I think you are.”
Our pastas arrived before I could say anything more—perfect timing, honestly. I needed the distraction.
He had ordered a creamy fettuccine alfredo for me, served with sautéed mushrooms and a hint of garlic. No spice. The aroma was divine—rich, buttery, gentle. I looked at it like it was a gift from heaven.
“You remembered,” I said, surprised. “About the spice.”
He smiled. “I remember everything.”
My fork faltered in mid-air. I stared at the dish, unsure if he meant to say it like that.
I took a bite and moaned softly at the taste. It was like tasting poetry.
He seemed amused watching me eat—like I was some kind of anomaly. I didn’t mind, honestly. It was the least awkward part of the entire day so far.
“Yours?” I asked, nodding to his.
He had something darker in color—penne arrabbiata with sun-dried tomatoes and olives. It looked spicy. I scrunched my nose instinctively.
“Do you like pain?” I teased, gesturing to the red sauce.
He smirked. “I’ve had worse.”
I didn’t know what to do with that answer. My eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re very mysterious, Mr. Volkov.”
He leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And you’re very curious, Miss Agrahari.”
“You started it,” I said defensively.
He tilted his head, as if studying me again. “Maybe I did.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes after that—comfortable, surprisingly. Every now and then I’d sneak a glance at him. His profile was sharp, elegant. He didn’t eat like someone trying to impress; he ate like someone who respected food. And strangely, that impressed me.
Around minute thirty, we were both done with our dishes, but we stayed seated, sipping on mocktails the waiter had brought at Luca’s quiet request.
“Only forty more minutes to go,” I said jokingly, checking my phone.
“I can do this all day,” he replied without missing a beat.
That stilled me.
The way he said it… calm, low, as if time itself was a luxury he rarely indulged in, but today he’d made an exception. For me.
I cleared my throat and looked out the window. The city skyline shimmered under the late afternoon sun, a thousand stories unfolding in every distant window. Somewhere, people were rushing, shouting, falling in love.
And here we were, inside our own fragile bubble of quiet.
“I still can’t believe you’re Italian,” I said randomly, just to break the stillness.
“Is that surprising?”
“A little,” I admitted. “You speak English so fluently.”
“I learn fast,” he said with a slight shrug.
“I still can’t pronounce half the names on this menu.”
“You did well,” he said. “Especially under financial duress.”
I laughed. “Don’t even remind me. I was calculating in my head the whole time. I almost cried when you said ‘wine’.”
His grin widened. “That explains the panic in your eyes.”
“You noticed?”
“I notice everything,” he said again, simply.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
So I didn’t say anything.
___
Hey guys hope you like this part. Thank you for reading the story till now. Do like for the chapters and comment your reviews in the comment section.
Stay tuned to read about a beautiful moment that is soon going to occur between Khushi and Luca in this restaurant 😉😘
See you all tomorrow💕❤
Write a comment ...