Chapter 46: The Bet Of Kiss

Every relationship rests on perception.

A woman who doesn’t respect a man will never truly be loyal to him—and Rohit knew that if Ragini kept seeing him as someone to scold, his endgame would slip away before it even began.

More than the risk, he hated being treated like a kid. He could admit his mistake, but he refused to let it define him in her eyes. He had to reestablish his masculine presence as a firm, unshakable—before the dynamic hardened and derailed everything he had planned.

With a quiet sigh, he stepped after her.

The exhibition hall was arranged in two distinct tiers.

At the front, rows of velvet-backed chairs faced the stage—reserved for the official auction participants. These were the bidders, the names that would later be etched into contracts. Every nod, every raised hand, would be remembered.

Further back, the atmosphere was looser.

Round tables draped in silk held glasses of drinks and plates of starters, waiters gliding between them in quiet rhythm. Here sat the wives, friends, and extended guests—free to gossip, dine, and spectate without being pulled into the high-stakes game up front.

Mrs. Ragini Singhania guided Rohit to one of these tables. Close enough to see the stage, far enough from the bidders to grant them privacy.

She didn’t look at him. Her sharp eyes stayed fixed on the stage, jaw tight.

The silence between them was deliberate and heavy as punishment. She knew Rohit too well: knew he would follow, knew he would try to win her over.

It lasted two full minutes.

Rohit leaned forward, grin sliding into place. "So this is how you treat me now? Silent treatment?"

Her lips stayed sealed.

He chuckled low. "Fine. I’ll take the hint. But you should know—I like to chase things that run cold."

That earned him the smallest glance—sharp enough to cut.

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "How about this?.. If I pull off another miracle tonight, you’ll owe me a favor."

Her arms crossed tighter. "And if you fail?"

"Then I’ll admit you were right," he said, smirk widening. "And I’ll compensate however you want."

Her eyes narrowed. "You fought at school while injured. Do you realize how reckless that was? You could have gone to the authorities."

"For what?" Rohit tilted his head. "Complain? And watch them laugh it off?"

Ragini exhaled sharply through her nose, gaze returning to the stage.

He didn’t let the silence settle.

"You know," he said softly, "you look... different tonight. That bun makes your neckline stand out. Whoever picked that dress deserves a raise."

She stiffened, instinctively tugging the edge of her saree higher across her chest—as if to shield the bare shoulders, the graceful collarbone, the faint glimpse of cleavage beneath the blouse.

He grinned at her reaction. "See? That’s not coldness. That’s shyness. How adorable."

She refused to answer, but her lips pressed tighter.

Rohit leaned back with mock drama. "So harsh. If I were in your place, I’d take the day off, sneak to our estate, and lounge by the pool in a swimsuit with lemonade in hand."

Her brow arched. "Is that what you were imagining, staring at my neck?"

He pretended to think. "Hmm... I also pictured hiring a masseur. Strong hands, warm oil..."

This time she had to fight the corner of her mouth from curling. "And let me guess—you’d volunteer for the job?"

"Bingo," he said instantly, leaning in. "Why bring in a third party when I’m right here at your service?"

She scoffed, finally meeting his eyes fully. "Your words are inappropriate for your age. You should stop daydreaming."

He held her gaze. "I’ve already crossed the line once. I don’t mind crossing it again... and again."

Ragini turned back to the stage, but a faint flush dusted her cheeks. "You’re shameless. Instead of apologizing, you flirt like a drunk."

"How boring would an apology be?" Rohit countered. "Isn’t it better when you can choose—punish me, or reward me?"

Ragini turned sharply to retort, but Rohit spoke first, smug smile in place. "Besides, you look more beautiful when you’re smiling. And even cuter when you try so hard to hide it."

Her lips twitched despite herself. She looked away quickly, murmuring, "You’re hopeless."

And then the auctioneer’s voice rang out, pulling the hall back into focus.

"Now, the main event. After careful consideration, three families have been shortlisted for participation in the core project tenders. Alongside the three major contracts, there are fifteen subsidiary slots for co-bidders."

A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd.

"The selected families are... the Mittals, the Goenkas, and the Singhanias."

Ragini’s eyes darted to Rohit, suspicion flaring. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They hadn’t even submitted a proposal yet.

Calmly, he set his glass down and slipped a card from his pocket—the business card of Masato Fujimura, stamped with the title Managing Director, Takamura Heavy Industries.

Her breath caught.

’Fujimura?’

Almost instinctively, she turned to where Secretary Pathak stood discreetly in the crowd. He gave the smallest of nods—confirmation that what she was thinking was true.

Rohit leaned closer, voice low and almost playful. "Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Fujimura put his favor on us. Call it insight... call it luck... but I’d say the Singhanias earned their place tonight."

Her anger softened, replaced by a confusing swirl of pride and unease. She hated being played, but he had played a card she never saw coming.

Rohit’s lips curved into a smirk as he teased, "So... do I earn a reward for pulling this off? I’d say a kiss isn’t too much to ask."

Her eyes narrowed. "You didn’t even tell me about this beforehand. That’s cheating."

"All’s fair when the result is victory, isn’t it?" he countered lightly.

Before she could retort, Jayesh’s voice cut through the hum of applause as he stepped onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I borrow your ears for a moment? For those who may not know me, I am Jayesh Mittal, representing the Mittal Group. First, I wish to express my gratitude to the Chambani family for this grand opportunity. And, of course, my thanks for allowing me a chance to add a few words tonight."

He paused, letting his grin widen as murmurs spread.

"If I’m not mistaken, the next stage will move into co-bidding on these tenders. But before that... I propose something to make this evening more memorable. After all, we Mittals have partnered with the Goenkas."

The focus shifted to Shailesh Goenka, standing with his wife and daughter, Ishita. Ishita’s eyes flickered with unease as she glanced at her father. At her silent plea, Shailesh gave a reluctant nod.

The crowd broke into cheers, expecting a joint announcement. Jayesh basked in it before lifting his hand for silence.

"Thank you, Ishita, for your grand efforts. Since tonight is about intellect as much as wealth... why not a game? A duel of chess, here and now."

The applause rose again, whispers darting through the audience—were the Mittals about to challenge the Goenkas?

But Jayesh’s next words stunned the hall.

"Since childhood, my dear friend Rohit Singhania and I have always quarreled about who’s better. Why not settle it tonight?" His gaze locked onto Rohit, smile curling into a taunt.

Gasps rippled. Heads turned. Even Rohit blinked, caught off guard—

’me?’

"If I win," Jayesh declared, "my family takes the lead in the final major project. If I lose, the Singhanias gain five subcontracts... without contest."

The Chambani host’s representative stepped forward, tone diplomatic. "Of course, if Mr. Rohit declines, we will proceed with the normal bidding process."

Jayesh smirked, eyes narrowing at him. "Or perhaps you’d rather not risk it, my dear friend? After all, memory loss doesn’t exactly sharpen the mind, does it?"

A ripple of laughter rolled across the hall.

Rohit’s palm clenched tight against the table.

’Cunning bastard. So this is how you come at me now.

’

His fist tightened as he chose to rise.

Inside, Rohit seethed. This wasn’t just a childish challenge—it was a trap disguised as a game. If he lost, he wouldn’t just forfeit the contract; he’d lose face in front of everyone here. And if he refused outright, it would look worse.

Declining meant cowardice, meant weakness... and worse, it meant disappointing Fujimura, who was no doubt watching closely from the shadows of this very hall.

Either way, Jayesh had set the board so Rohit bled.

’Damn him. He’s boxed me in perfectly.’

Ragini stiffened beside him as her soft, pale hand closed over his fist. Her whisper was sharp. "Don’t. There’s no need to gamble. This is certainly a trap. We stay with the normal process."

But Rohit’s gaze never left Jayesh. His lips curved into that sly, infuriating smile. He leaned toward Ragini, voice dropping to a private murmur. "What if I told you this is the perfect chance to mend ties... in more ways than one?"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He bent just close enough for her skin to prickle. "How about we raise the stakes? If I win this duel, you owe me dinner. Just us. And that kiss you keep dodging... five minutes. No less."

Her face froze, caught between fury and disbelief. "Rohit—!"

But before she could finish, he pushed back his chair and rose smoothly to his feet.

"I’ll still need someone to explain the rules," he said coolly.

Jayesh grinned like a wolf. "Of course, man. We’re buddies, after all."

The crowd erupted—cheers, laughter, claps filling the grand hall. The excitement was electric.

Rohit turned to Ragini, flashing her an assuring smile and a quick wink.

"Don’t worry. Better be prepared... for my pending rewards."

The crowd seemed to lean forward as he stepped toward the stage, his steps steady, mind racing but resolve heavy as iron.

Attendants hurried to set a polished wooden chessboard under the chandeliers, while Jayesh strode up brimming with confidence.

Rohit cast one last glance at Ragini. She stood frozen, torn between fury and disbelief, her lips parting as if to call him back.

Instead, he allowed himself a faint smile, muttering under his breath:

"Guess I’ll have to walk through fire if the prize is worth this much."

’I don’t know the board like he does, but I don’t need to. This brat has one glaring weakness—arrogance beyond limits. And I’ll be damned if I lose to that.’

And with that, he walked toward the chessboard, the crowd parting for him like a tide.