“Miss Singh and I understand each other perfectly,” I tell him. “However, if you threaten me once more to give the project to another firm or if you pull a stunt like this and hire someone without my knowledge or permission then, by all means, go ahead and do find yourself another firm to work with. Are we clear?”

His expression hardens as he gives me an angry glare. But he sighs and relents with a bow of his head.

“Crystal clear!”

“Well then,” I say. “We’re ready for the tour.”

Aaliya

JONATHAN’S SCOTTISH estate is far removed from civilization and stretches over acres of land. The new wing extends perpendicular to the existing house making the mansion into an L shaped edifice. It’s devoid of any furnishings and is just a massive empty space of rooms and corridors. I can already think of several ideas that I’d like to implement here and I keep noting them on my phone. I snap several pictures of the rooms, the doors, the ceiling beams etc., while Jonathan guides us through it.

I’ve spoken a lot, asked plenty of questions while Damien’s just been brooding in that typical manner I’ve now come to associate with him—the new him or rather the post-accident him. He’s hardly spoken, letting me carry the reins of the conversation. He just asks a few pointed questions here and there, and goes back to brooding by my side. Why is he so quiet? What are his ideas for this project? Why does he not bring them forth?

Our earlier argument is still playing at the back of my mind, adding to my disappointment. I didn’t expect him to retaliate as angrily as he did. It’s just not like him at all. The fact that he so outright told me that he doesn’t work with strangers hurt. When he told me that he doesn’t know me, his words pinched something in my chest. Thinking about it even now pains me. I bite my lower lip so hard I taste blood. I swipe it away with my tongue. No matter how many conversations I’ve had with myself about taking this situation calmly, I’m human and I’m angry and hurt. We’ve been a team for so long and now I have to prove myself to him.

I take a deep breath and stop the pity party going on in my mind. I have to get my head back in this game, which starts with me getting my husband to work with me.  As we reach the end of the wing, an idea takes shape in my mind.

“Can we take this wall down?” I ask Jonathan, pointing towards the last wall that marks the end of the entire wing. It has huge glass doors that open into the garden.