Chapter 35

"Jeet!"

Vicky, Purvi and I say the name all at once.

The introduction animation of the speaker is broadcast and in big bold letters next to an image of his face is the name: VIKRAMJEET GREWAL, CEO.

'Jeet cannot be Vicky' I scream internally to myself. He can't be. The polished, striking man on stage is wearing a perfectly fitting, expensive Italian suit, is clean shaven, no spectacles and un-gelled hair.

He's not my Jeet!

But as I look at the screen now projecting live, his face magnified a hundred times, there is no mistaking those caramel eyes that have haunted me in my dreams, and deep dimples that are no longer hidden.

"Can you believe it?" Purvi gushes, breaking through my shock induced stupor. "Our CEO was with us all this time and we had no idea."

I tear my eyes off the stage and force myself to look at Purvi.

"Gosh! I treated him so shabbily at times," she rues, covering her face with her hands. "I hope he doesn't hold it against us."

"Nah!! he's cool," says Junaid grinning. "I worked with him this week. He was praising us so much. He said ours was one of the best departments."

I really cannot take it anymore. My head is still reeling, and I need some space to process all this. I mumble something about having to go back to see if Nivedita needs me.

Purvi and Junaid go backstage, still excitedly discussing the turn of events while I stagger back to my seat. The press photographers are still clicking pictures, their flashes dancing like glittering lights on stage.

"Ma'am?" a young boy from the event management team, probably one of those college kids working part-time for pocket money, is standing next to me. "You are being called backstage."

"What for?"

"I don't know. Carol asked me to find and get you. Said its urgent." The kid shrugs disinterestedly.

"There you are!" Carol grabs hold of my upper arm as I reach backstage. "We are short of one person, so we need you to hand over the bouquet of flowers to one of the guests. When I tell you, just hand over the bouquet to the person whose name will be called. Got it? Good!" she talks very quickly, not allowing me to get in a word edgewise, thrusting a bouquet in my hand, before disappearing to attend other matters.

I see Purvi on stage, handing over the flowers to the megastar, while blushing profusely. Nivedita calls out the names of the guests to the stage, as colleagues present bouquets to them.

"And now ladies and gentlemen we present a bouquet to welcome our new CEO," Nivedita announces. I look around me to see who will be presenting the bouquet to Jeet.

There is no one else around.

Jeet is walking up to the stage.

"Tarana, it's your turn" Carol materialises from nowhere and whispers urgently in my ears, "go, hand over the bouquet to him."

I give Carol a 'you've got to be kidding me' look. There is no way I will give him the bouquet.

"Can you find someone else to give the flowers?" I plead.

Now it's her turn to give me 'you've got to be kidding me' look. "He's already on stage. Go now." She gives me a hard nudge, pushing me out of the wing, on to the main deck. I look at Nivedita, who glares at me enviously, motioning for me to go.

Jeet gives a sideward glance and then does a double take as he realises it is I, who is walking toward him. Our eyes lock and I cannot tear my eyes away, as I walk towards him.

His eyes soften, as he gives a nod and a faint smile.

I have so many mixed emotions bubbling within me, I am confused what to feel.

There is relief and happiness at seeing him after all this time. There is a sense of betrayal and remorse that he did not tell me about himself. Anger at myself for getting so blindsided, that I did not piece the information together earlier. The deference, knowing that Jeet is our CEO. And to top it, the awkwardness that I am sort of, married to my boss.

What a mess!

When I reach him, I extend my hand to present the flowers. Jeet doesn't take his eyes off me and seems to be searching my face for some answers.

Face to face, he is even more drop dead gorgeous than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. His smooth, clean shaven jaw is sharp as a knife, and I so want to rub my hand across it. The thick dark brown hair is now trimmed to a shorter, more stylish Ivy League cut. The mesmerising caramel eyes, without the constraints of the ugly black glasses, seem to draw me to drown in their depths.

I am highly conscious of all eyes on us. I clear my throat, looking down at the flowers, indicating for him to take them.

He looks down at the flowers, then at me, pursing his mouth before breaking into a sly smile. He places his hands under the flowers, but instead of holding them, he grabs my hand and gives an ever so slight tug, that could hardly be noticed by anyone else, pulling me towards him, at the same time turning himself, such that we are standing next to each other, facing the audience.

To the audience it looks like he's holding the flowers, whereas in reality, under the flowers covering our hands he has held my wrists tightly, so that I am unable to move away.

He turns towards the press photographers and smiles. Almost instantly all cameras start clicking away, blinding me with their flashlights. After a few minutes, Jeet releases his hold, takes the flowers from my hand, gives a smug smirk, before walking back to his seat.

I walk off the stage, rolling my eyes at his audacity. What was he trying to accomplish with that little stunt?

Next program lined up is a Bollywood dance number by an upcoming starlet. I have no intention of sitting through that and besides I need some fresh air after that encounter with Jeet.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Hey, Tarana?" I turn around to see Rajiv holding out a bunch of papers. "Was looking for you. Here's the marriage registration certificate and copy of your NDA. Hope the issue of your house is settled now."

I want to yell at him, ask him why he did not tell me that Jeet was Vicky. Why didn't he tell me that the guy I was 'marrying' was my boss?

Instead, I assure him that all is fine, thank him, take the papers and walk to the lobby.

I find the nearest available chair and collapse in it. I let out a long sigh before I take a look at the marriage certificate.

There it is - in black and white, dispelling traces of any doubt that I had.

Certificate of Registration of Marriage of:

Vikramjeet Grewal

son of Shri Dev Grewal and Smt. Seema Grewal

and

Tarana Dheer

daughter of late Shri Tarun Dheer and late Smt. Chandana Dheer

Vikramjeet Grewal!!

Ugghh!! I groan exasperatedly, hiding my head in my hands. How could I have been so blind and so stupid? It was so obvious - all the clues were right there. If anyone would be observing my life, they would have guessed long ago.

Vicky is..

Jeet!!