Chapter 9: A Deal over Drinks

Siara’s office was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from her laptop screen and the city lights filtering through the large glass windows. The quiet hum of the AC filled the room as she flipped through financial reports, her brows slightly furrowed.

Her phone suddenly buzzed against the wooden desk. An unknown number.

Her first instinct was to ignore it. It was late, and she wasn’t in the mood for unsolicited calls. But something about it made her pause. She exhaled sharply and picked up.

“Siara Rajawat speaking.”

A smooth, composed voice came from the other end. “Good evening, Ms. Rajawat. This is Siddharth Menon.”

Siara blinked in mild surprise. Mr. Menon? This was unexpected.

“I wasn’t expecting a call from you, Mr. Menon,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Especially on this number. May I ask where you got it from?”

Menon chuckled lightly. “Let’s just say I have my ways. But don’t worry, I don’t intend to misuse it.”

Siara’s fingers tapped against the desk. She wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or intrigued.

“To what do I owe this call?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

“I wanted to discuss your proposal,” Menon said, his voice turning all business. “I think it’s a solid plan, and I’m inclined to move forward with it. However, there are a few aspects that require clarity before we finalize anything.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Siara’s face. This was good news.

“Of course,” she replied. “We can schedule a meeting tomorrow at my office. I’ll have all the necessary details prepared—”

“Wahi toh problem hai,” Menon interrupted. “Kal main available nahi hoon. Subah meri flight hai Singapore ki, aur main kam se kam ek mahine ke liye wapas nahi aa paunga.”

(That’s the problem. I won’t be available tomorrow. I have a flight to Singapore in the morning, and I won’t be back for at least a month.)

Siara frowned. A month?

She didn’t have that kind of time. The market was shifting too fast, and this deal was crucial for her next move.

“Mujhe pata hai ki ye kaafi late ho raha hai,” Menon continued. “Aur main maafi chahta hoon. But if we don’t meet today, you’ll have to wait.”

(I know it’s quite late, and I apologize. But if we don’t meet today, you’ll have to wait.)

Siara glanced at the clock. 7:30 PM.

Her mind raced through the pros and cons. Delaying this deal could cost her significantly. If she let the opportunity slip now, it would set her plans back by weeks, if not more.

After a brief pause, she made her decision.

“Theek hai,” she said. “Location bhej dijiye.”

(Alright. Send me the location.)

A second later, her phone buzzed with a message. She opened it and her eyes slightly widened at the name.

La Fortuna Lounge.

Siara’s lips pressed into a thin line. Of course.

La Fortuna wasn’t just any lounge. It was a high-end, members-only establishment, where business tycoons, politicians, and celebrities indulged in luxury away from the public eye. The kind of place where serious deals happened behind closed doors.

She debated taking Ayesha along, but then she remembered—Ayesha had already left for a family function.

“Toh akele jaana padega,” she muttered to herself.

(So, I’ll have to go alone.)

La Fortuna Lounge – A Playground for the Elite

Siara’s black sedan smoothly rolled to a stop outside La Fortuna Lounge. The entrance was grand yet understated—warm golden lights illuminating the dark marble facade, a sleek black velvet rope sectioning off the entrance.

A uniformed doorman stood at the entrance, scanning each guest carefully before allowing them in. Unlike other high-profile venues, there were no paparazzi here. No flashing cameras. No unwanted attention.

The rich and powerful valued discretion above all else.

As Siara stepped out of the car, adjusting the cuffs of her blazer, she immediately spotted Siddharth Menon waiting near the entrance.

Dressed in a sharply tailored charcoal-grey suit, he exuded an air of effortless authority. His stance was relaxed, yet there was a calculated sharpness in his gaze—as if he was constantly evaluating everything around him.

As she approached, he offered a polite nod. “Ms. Rajawat, I appreciate you coming.”

Siara gave a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Menon.” Her eyes flickered to the grand entrance. “Par honestly, mujhe business meeting ki yeh location thodi unexpected lagi.”

(But honestly, I wasn’t expecting a business meeting at a place like this.)

Menon chuckled. “Haan, mujhe andaza tha ki aap yeh bolengi.”

(Yes, I figured you’d say that.)

He adjusted his cufflinks. “Actually, aaj ek dost ka birthday hai, aur mujhe attend karna tha. Agar main meeting office mein rakhta, toh late ho jaata.”

(Actually, it’s my friend’s birthday today, and I had to attend. If I had scheduled the meeting at my office, I would’ve been late.)

Siara arched an eyebrow. “Toh aapne dono cheezein ek saath karne ka decide kiya?”

(So… you decided to combine both?)

He smirked. “Bohot efficient solution hai, nahi?”

(It’s a very efficient solution, isn’t it?)

Siara didn’t respond immediately. She glanced at the entrance, where high-profile guests were being let in with silent nods of acknowledgment.

Menon observed her hesitation and said, “Agar aapko koi dikkat ho toh, we can reschedule.”

(If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.)

Siara exhaled softly before shaking her head. “Nahi, ab aaye hain toh chaliye.”

(No, since we’re here, let’s go.)

Menon gestured toward the entrance. The doorman, recognizing him instantly, pulled back the velvet rope without question.

As they stepped inside, Siara took in the lavish setting. The soft golden glow of chandeliers, the plush velvet seating, the low murmur of conversation as the city’s elite indulged in aged whiskey and handcrafted cocktails.

This wasn’t just a bar. This was where power circulated.

She could feel the weight of discreet gazes flicking toward her. Some of the patrons recognized her—Rajawat Enterprises was no small name.

Menon didn’t slow down as he led her toward a grand spiral staircase.

She followed him, her heels clicking against the polished floor, her posture as poised as ever.

As they climbed the stairs, Menon suddenly smirked and said, “Aap comfortable toh hain, Ms. Rajawat?”

(Are you comfortable, Ms. Rajawat?)

Siara glanced at him suspiciously. “Kyun? Koi aur shock dena hai kya?”

(Why? Are you planning to shock me again?)

He chuckled. “Nahi, bas yeh dekh raha hoon ki aapko is atmosphere ki aadat hai ya nahi.”

(No, just seeing if you’re comfortable with this atmosphere or not.)

She gave him a look. “Main kisi bhi jagah par apne terms par chalti hoon, Mr. Menon.”

(I navigate any place on my own terms, Mr. Menon.)

He smiled, impressed. “Achha hai. Kyunki yahaan sirf wohi tikta hai jo apni terms par rehta hai.”

(Good. Because only those who play by their own rules survive here.)

The doors of the VIP lounge swung open.

And just like that, the game had begun.