Chapter 1
‘Wait, taxi!’ a voice shrieked. A
tousled head followed by the body of a young girl emerged from the porch of Madison Hotel. She dragged
one foot awkwardly as she pushed through the massive revolving doors and limped out onto the pavement. A jagged rip ran down one side of her skirt. One stiletto was lacking a heel—hence the limp.
The taxi driver took one look at her, hit the accelerator and drove off in a cloud of dark exhaust, a look of utter disgust on his face. Not another one of those in his vehicle! They never seemed to have enough money to pay the fare.
Her hair was short and curly, and looked like a nest of noodles that had had a run-in with a sandblaster. It stuck out in wild wisps, framing her face, making her look a bit like a scarecrow. Clutching a handbag and a manila folder in one hand, she hurried away from the hotel at top speed. And yet, despite her utter dishevelment, a cheeky little grin played about the corners of her mouth and her eyes twinkled.
Not that the weather was helping any! The wind had picked up and a stormy-looking sky threatened to rain down buckets any second. Her valiant efforts to keep the shreds of her skirt together failed. As its hem edged up her thigh like an unwanted hand, she became even more flustered.
A couple of pedestrians gave her quizzical looks as she hurtled down the busy street, clutching what was left of her clothes and her belongings tightly. But even so, the expression of sheer glee written all over her face was unmistakeable. After all, she’d just walked out of an interview—perhaps stumbled was a better word—and she had aced it.
Okay, maybe aced it wasn’t quite correct. She chuckled to herself. Frankly, it had been a total disaster, but the point was that she had got a job, wasn’t it? Who cared about the rest?
Because tucked away in that manila envelope, underneath her sweaty armpit, was the all-important appointment letter with her name, Kia Kant, on top, and the flourishing signature of Aayaan Malhotra, the owner of Madison Hotels, at the bottom.
Poor Aayaan Malhotra. He had no idea what had just hit him. He had had no intention of hiring her either. In fact, if it hadn’t been for dear Mr Verma insisting that Aayaan meet Kia, he wouldn’t have given her a second look.
Minor detail. She hadn’t given him much choice, had she?
