& Then They Wed (Ampersand Love #2)

1. The Meet-Cute

1

The Meet-Cute

Rian

“ You’re a curse to me.”

“No,” the boy whimpered.

“Everything you touch, you destroy. That is your legacy.”

Eyes clenched shut, he tried harder to block the noises that refused to fade amidst the hum of an engine.

The annoyed honking of an overeager truck jolted him awake. He squinted, suddenly assailed by the bright headlights of a car on the opposite side of the signal just as his driver made a turn into a road he recognized well.

Rian Shetty took in a deep breath and sat up with a sigh, tiredly rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. Without noticing, he reached into his pocket for his phone and tapped the screen. Just past 1:00 a.m. No wonder he felt so sleepy.

His flight from Singapore had landed a short while ago. Raju, his driver, had been present to pick him up despite the last minute notice .

“Did anyone else get hurt except Ankit?” Rian asked, his eyes meeting Raju’s in the rearview mirror.

“No, Bhaiyya. I took him to the hospital to get stitches immediately. I told them not to call you but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I’m responsible for the safety of my staff. I'm glad someone informed me.”

“But you had to rush back like this in the middle of the renovations in Singapore.”

“Singapore will be fine.” Rian added another voice note reminder into his phone for the morning while he sorted through his calendar. He was diligent about tracking his tasks and deadlines—it was the only way he had gotten as far as he had. “It is late now, but did you find out Ankit’s address? I want to go see him tomorrow before I get to the restaurant.”

“Yes, Bhaiyya, I will take you there first. No problem.”

Nodding, he sat back, trying hard not to doze off again. If he did, he was certain he would hear her voice again.

The words from his dream kept repeating in the recesses of his brain, taunting him to admit that he was bothered by them. That he was still disturbed by the hate and rage upon his mother’s face when she had spat those words at him.

He’d been barely eight, mourning the loss of his father, and he’d not known it then, but he may as well have considered himself an orphan.

Leela Shetty, wife of Abhay Shetty, an ex-model and socialite extraordinaire, had been as motherly as a snake.

That was probably an insult to reptiles all around the world , he thought grimly, watching the buildings outside go by in a blur.

She had been his harshest critic, and not in a manner ?that made one long to do better. She had done everything to make him feel like he was not worthy of being her son.

That he was not worthy of being a Shetty .

That he was not worthy. Period.

One would have thought this meant that she would ignore his existence.

Unfortunately, in the last few years, Leela had decided that she was an integral part of Rian’s adult life. Each visit felt like he was on the receiving end of an unwelcome enema.

She never failed to scratch at old wounds, ensuring he spent multiple days after her visits trying to talk himself out of committing matricide. No matter her trespasses against him, he’d been unable to stop her shameless need to use him as a social stepping stool, especially since he’d made a name for himself in the food industry.

He tolerated her behaviour because he knew that Leela was vindictive enough to try to disgrace him otherwise. With her penchant for spreading gossip and rumours, uncaring of the people she hurt in the process, she could very well turn around and damage his hard-earned respect.

Now, more than ever, he needed to protect his image so that he would be received favourably by the board of investors at the bank. He was planning to leverage his work to entice them into approving his proposal. With his passion project on the horizon, he could take no chances with letting a cannonball like Leela wreck his dreams. And this, by far, was his biggest dream—a culinary institute with a special access fund for those children who had talent, but were limited by finances.

When he died, he would leave this behind as his legacy.

He would leave behind something good, and finally shed the burden of having carried his mother’s horrid words with him since he was a boy.

He would prove her wrong.

He just hoped that he didn’t lose his patience before achieving this goal, because truly, Leela Shetty could drive a saint to murder.

While he may not have been present to suffer her tantrums and outrageous demands this time, his restaurant staff was .

An altercation between his mother and a waiter at the main branch of The Mumbai Map, his beloved restaurant, had Rian leaving his new Singaporean venture under the watchful eye of his project manager.

Rian would have loved to stay back longer. The Singapore Map had been in the works for over two years, and was finally on track for a winter opening. Had his mother not injured Ankit, a long-time employee of The Mumbai Map , Rian would have never thought to return early to his home city.

Though it was Ankit who had required stitches to his hand, Leela had been heard making threats of reporting him to the cops for trying to hurt her. What had Ankit done wrong, you ask? He’d held her hand when she’d waved a butter knife in their manager’s face for not serving her the best bottles of wine, and for daring to charge her for her meal.

Which meant that Rian’s presence became necessary to protect his employees from his entitled harpy of a parent.

He yawned once more.

The noise must have alerted Raju because he spoke up just as they pulled into the parking lot of his high-rise apartment building.

“We are home, Bhaiyya. You can rest soon. I didn’t see Nanamma today, so I did not get a chance to tell her that you would be back.”

“That’s fine. I’ll surprise her in the morning.”

Rian grabbed his backpack and luggage from the trunk, waving off Raju’s attempts to help.

Nanamma, he thought fondly, dragging his suitcase into the large elevator and pressing the button for his floor.

He’d been trying to get his grandmother to move in with him for years, but she’d refused. Despite her age, Chitra Shetty loved being independent and had not been ready to leave the home she had shared with her husband in the twilight years of his life .

Velas, the small beachside town that she still called home, had become a safe haven for his friend, Kaya Sharma, when she'd been estranged from her family.

Now that Kaya, known to everyone else as Kaveri, had moved back to Mumbai to live with her husband, Arjun Rathore, it seemed that Nanamma had finally begun to feel lonely.

Begrudgingly, she’d agreed to spend a few months at a time living with Rian, insisting that she would go back to Velas in the rainy months to get away from the infamous Mumbai floods. Contrary to her plans however, she’d ended up coming back earlier. And not alone.

A temporary houseguest.

When she had last spoken to him, she’d explained that the grandchild of an old friend had been accepted into a specialty medical program at a nearby hospital and needed a place to stay.

Rian hadn’t questioned why this person couldn’t rent an apartment or why Nanamma had to be here to chaperone him. He’d assumed that this ‘Adi’ that Nanamma had mentioned was a young man-child. The typical, spoiled son of an overprotective family who’d had everything done for him and was incapable of an existence independent of help.

Regardless, since his grandmother rarely asked him for anything, Rian had acquiesced and allowed the use of his home to house this boy.

He supposed the presence of this Adi would not impact him anyway. Rian would be busy with his work and would categorically decline babysitting said man-child.

He punched in the code to his apartment. The answering ping and whirr of the electronic lock announced his success. He wheeled in his suitcase, stepping into a wide entryway with a side closet where he dumped his shoes. Leaving his luggage behind, he walked to the end of the foyer, which opened into an enormous kitchen and living space. The far end of the wall was completely made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, which brought in enough brightness that he didn’t need to switch the lights on. Beyond the windows was a sizable balcony that led to a sweeping view of the Bandra-Worli Sea Link—a 5.6 kilometre long, eight-lane-wide cable-stayed bridge that linked the busy Western Suburbs of Bandra with the upscale locality of Worli in South Mumbai, where he now lived. As busy as it was by day, the bridge was a breathtaking sight at night, lit up to dominate the dark Arabian Sea over which it stood.

He slid behind the white quartz-encased island, a massive twelve-foot structure that he had commissioned. He loved cooking here. It was a departure from the black cabinets and black stone counters that lined the rest of his kitchen, drawing one’s eye to the true heart of his home. He grabbed a drink and took a look around him, his sights inevitably drawn to the outside again.

Rian had splurged on this apartment once he had made enough money. Something about being this high up, and seeing the city lights blinking constantly made him feel okay, if only for a short time. Like he wasn’t alone.

He slapped the bottle back down on the counter and walked towards the massive sectional that dominated his living room. Tired and wanting to rest, he unthinkingly leaned over the back of the couch and dropped onto the seat, belly first.

“Amma!” He heard a shriek, just as he realised he’d made a mistake.

The next instant, it was chaos. Thrashing, kicking, squirming, and screaming ensued.

He felt a sharp jab on his side and with an oomph, he began to roll off the edge, his surprise and confusion robbing him of the ability to fight. As he fell, instinct kicked in and he grabbed at whatever he could to halt his descent. His hands connected with warm skin and despite not meaning to, he brought down the weight of whoever or whatever was on his couch .

This person could not be human with the sort of sounds they were emitting. He was wrestling an alligator, he was sure, one that was still cursing and screaming. Or at least was trying to, because the noise was muffled under the blanket that covered its face.

Fighting still, Rian managed to pull the sheet off, only to be assaulted by a curtain of thick hair that blocked the remnant light around him.

“What the hell?” A girl?

“Thieeeeeeeef!” said girl screeched, smacking his chest and swinging her fists. “I won’t let you steal anything! I don’t know where the money is kept but I won’t let you take even a spoon!”

She swatted at him ineffectually while he tried to grab her arms, causing her to drop the pillow she was smacking him in the face with. She pulled at her wrists while Rian frustratedly jerked his head until the pillow fell sideways.

“Stop screaming!” he ordered, sputtering when more hair slapped his cheek.

“I'm a police officer! How dare you attack me! I have guns! And knives! Get out!”

“Just listen,” Rian shouted, trying to capture her hands again. God, this woman was like a slippery eel. He hefted his chest up and swung an arm about her waist, rolling them over until he had her hands trapped beside her head.

“Help! Thief! Murderer!”

“Will you shut up? I’m not going to hurt you!” Rian bellowed.

Bright light flooded the room and Nanamma’s surprised voice pierced through all the ruckus.

“What is going on here? Adi? Rian?”

Rian heard nothing, his eyes firmly on the woman he held under him as she blew strands of hair off her face with an angry huff. Beautiful brown eyes framed under thick lashes stared back, widening just as recognition hit them both.

“You!”