He was making life miserable. He had the same eyes, the same gait, almost the same smooth, silky voice but he was Christopher, not Daniel, whom she still loved to bits. He still pestered her as if what he had done had no bearing at their professional relationship at all. This is what separated him from his brother. He was not as respectable and honorable towards women as his brother. He considered them as disposable pleasures rather than meaningful pursuits. And she Mira was having a hard time fending off his advances, as she had noticed earlier, he was incorrigible, determined to win he like his brother. Hence, he was making life miserable. What could she do, looking at him brought with it a sea of a plethora of enmeshed feelings, she was reminded of the passionate love that made her heart rejoice and the equally painful betrayal, she was stuck between rock and a hard place.

“Good morning beautiful”, she was jolted back to the present by Christopher’s voice.  “Your office is two floors above and in the completely opposite direction and yet you stop by, why?”, “To give you your morning coffee, beautiful”. “How many times do I tell you, call me by my name, please, this is an office space”. “I don’t care, beautiful and besides, how would I tell you that we are going on a date tonight. It is a great little place on the Marylebone Road, it is a formal place, you know, dress up, reservation’s at 8”, and he strutted out as casually, as he came in. Mira looked after him dumbstruck. How could someone ask, or well whatever he did, you on a date and insult your dressing at the same time and she couldn’t reply, couldn’t fight, for crying out loud, she was a lawyer. She felt so angry that she decided that she would go, not because she wanted to but because she wanted to flaunt her dressing sense, he was his boss, to hell with the fact.

She took a half day and went shopping, something she had never done. She was well not particularly fond of shopping just that occasional spree. After shopping she went home and took a long bath with lavender bath salts and then got dressed. She reached the Restaurant at sharp 8 ‘o’ clock. She asked to be shown to the table and the only thing Christopher Westland could do was stare. With his fair share of the world’s artificial beauties, he was awestruck by how beautiful Mira was. She wore a blue gown with drooping shoulders that outlined her collarbone. The dress highlighted her curves that sent his heart racing; she walked like a goddess, every eyeball turned towards her. Her sleek neck was adorned by a Harry Winston diamond wreath, he a veteran of buying many of them for his girlfriends. Her hair tied up in a bun, left her face to be admired. She had applied very little make up or probably none at all, but her face was all he could look at. It’s raw, untamed beauty was nothing like Christopher had ever seen.

She sat down in front of him with such grace that he was almost going to ask for an encore. “Good evening”, it was his turn to be jolted. “You smell wonderful”, “Excuse me”, “Oh I mean hello Mira”, finally the trick was done and he said her name finally. The night progressed rather slowly; Christopher never wanted it to end, as opposed to Mira for whom all of this was just to prove a point.  But she never knew that this was one of the many dates that were to take the fancy of Christopher, who would shower her with gifts because he seriously thought that he was in love for the first time. The love, he thought his brother had found in Louise.


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