Playing Dirty
Description
Sameera Bhatt leaves Mumbai for Manhattan, hoping to put away memories of the past. A chance encounter with a drunk, unconscious, but handsome stranger stirs something in her she'd never thought to feel again. Assuming a dream position as the new Head of the Projects and Development Department at Silvercorp, she is soon pitched in a constant battle of wills with Ryan Silverton, heir to the Silvercorp riches, the object of her fantasies for the past year. What's worse, the man doesn't even remember her! For Ryan Silverton, getting rid of the pesky woman hellbent on lording it over him, while trying to fix the mess he'd caused and regain his position as head of department - a position now occupied by the aforementioned pesky woman - should be no problem. As long as he didn't give in to the inexplicable urge to kiss her senseless. Despite heated arguments and disagreements, a different kind of heat sizzles between two headstrong characters, and sometimes, the heat is just too tempting to deny. Let the games begin, winner takes all.
Chapter 1
May 8, 2025
The elevator doors opened to reveal the body propped against the mirrored wall.
"Is he dead?" Sameera spoke in hushed tones, eyes fixed in morbid fascination at the unconscious man. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, head lolling against the wall. His mouth hung slightly open, a thin line of drool trailing from the corner to soak into his beard. The harsh lights overhead shone directly on his upturned face, and Sam couldn't help but note how good looking he was, with the classic sculpted cheekbones, strong jaw and features pleasantly arranged.
"No, and we should wait for another car." Yash wrinkled his nose at the strong smell wafting from inside the elevator.
"Smell that? The idiot's drunk and probably fell asleep on his way to his apartment."
Sam sniffed and sure enough the stink of spirits and something that smelled suspiciously like vomit hit her nostrils.
"Ugh, that's disgusting."
The man groaned and moved his head to rest on his chest, legs twitching restlessly. He quickly settled again and fell back asleep, soft snores filling the space. He was dressed in a black business suit that seemed a stark contrast to the drunken image he currently presented.
Probably some young hotshot who'd had one too many drinks after work hours. Considering that today was only Tuesday and the level of inebriation that'd led to this moment, he would be battling one hell of a hangover at work come tomorrow.
"Come on," Curling a hand around her biceps, Yash pulled her away. He picked up the suitcase waiting by the door and motioned for Sam to grab the smaller carry case. "We'll take the stairs. My apartment's on the seventh, so it shouldn't be too much a climb."
Exhausted from eighteen straight hours of flying, plus an additional two hours spent navigating the nightmare that was the Manhattan transit system; Sam's nerves protested the notion of more strenuous exercise. Plus, how the hell did Yash expect to lug five suitcases up seven flights of stairs?
"Wait, Yash!" She gripped one edge of the door to stop it sliding closed and nudged her suitcase into the other edge. "Let's just use the lift instead; I'm too tired to do stairs tonight."
"Are you serious? You want to ride with that?" He shot her an incredulous look and stabbed a finger at the sprawled man. "Forget it. I'll carry you on my back and come down for your stuff later."
He meant it too. A fitness buff, Yash worked out religiously and the firm muscles of his arms and shoulders bulging beneath his T-shirt attested to that. He was probably capable of carrying her and about two suitcases with ease if she let him.
He set down the case and advanced towards her, but Sam having none of it. She backed up, placing a hand on his chest to halt his tracks, brown eyes flashing a warning. "Don't even think about it."
"Then you better get ready to start climbing," He crossed his arms on his chest in the universal gesture for male stubbornness. "Because there's no way you're riding with him."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering not for the first time why she'd decided to move in with him rather than finding her own place. Yash was the quintessential overprotective older brother, his stubbornness constantly clashing with her assertive nature.
It had seemed a good idea at the time she'd brought it up, while breaking the news she was leaving Mumbai to her parents. It had certainly helped quell a lot of their anxiety at the thought that their last child and only daughter would be moving to a different continent, taking on a new job and essentially starting a new life.
When she'd mentioned the job was in New York and she'd be staying with Yash, Parvati Bhatt had instantly gotten on the phone to reel off a long list of instructions to her son concerning protecting his sister's virtue. Only then had she relented and bulldozed her husband into agreeing.
She wished it was her other brother, Amir – the more relaxed sibling – she would be staying with, but unfortunately, he lived in Canada.
"Look," Sam took a deep breath in an effort to expel irritation and held up a finger to punctuate her argument. "One, he's harmless – he's asleep for Pete's sake. Two, we only have to put up with the smell for two minutes at the most. Three, if he tries anything you can always slug him back to coma land."
Holding up the fourth finger, she delivered the final point. "We can get all my stuff in one trip; I can finally take a shower and get some much-needed sleep."
Yash considered her points and sighed. "Fine. But you stand as far away from him as possible until I get the rest of your stuff inside."
Muttering under his breath about troublesome sisters, he pointed at a chair opposite, waited until she sat, before storming off to bring in the rest of the bags.
This time, Sam did roll her eyes. This was absolutely ridiculous, but since it meant she'd gotten her way, she would comply. Besides, sitting down was an excellent idea as her aching legs sighed in relief.
She glanced back at the man, wondering who he was and the story behind the handsome face. Studying people and learning what made them act the way they did was something she enjoyed doing in her spare time. Back in university, she'd almost chosen Human Psychology as her major, but had gone with her other passion, Business Administration instead.
That suit wasn't cheap, plus the Rolex she'd spotted on his right wrist could easily have paid for her university tuition several times over. Sober, he would probably be some stuck-up trust fund baby, content to do nothing other than spending daddy's money, drink and pick up women...or men for sexy times.
Yash returned, toting the rest of the luggage. He spared one last look at trust fund baby, stepped into the car and set down the cases, looking like he'd sucked a lemon. Sam crossed to join him, freeing the doors so they slid shut again. The air seemed to thicken with the cloying smell, the remnants of the airplane plane meal threatening to make a reappearance.
"Whew! This stinks." Her attempt at humor was met with a dark look.
"You can't complain, you were the one who insisted on this shenanigan." Yash pressed the button for their floor and stepped back, practically crowding Sam against the wall.
"I was making a joke." She rolled her eyes at Yash. "Seriously, you need to lighten up, bhai."
"Haha. Now shut up, I'm trying not to breathe."
"Do you know him?" Her eyes lingered on the sleeping man. Up close, she noticed his hair wasn't exactly blond, more a blend of several light brown shades, the edges cut shorter than the middle. Idly, she was struck with the urge to know the color of his eyes. Would they be blue, green, or brown like hers?
"Yeah," The reluctant admission caused her to look at Yash. "I've seen him around. Usually, run into him when we're both leaving for work. I thought he was a decent chap, but looks like I was wrong."
Playing Dirty
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