~Dil Mera AR~Note 8 - Page 2

Hello! I'm back with Part 1. Excuse the shortness. Many can attest to the fact that I am having great big fat writers block. Merh. Anway. If you would like to be PMed. Please Please Buddy Me. Otherwise. I will most probably not PM you until like 2 months after.😳

Oh and Comments. Feedback. Is appreciated and requested! If you comment and like, I'll be motivated to come back with another, longer, part!!

Part1:

Bringgggggggggggg Bringgggggggggggggggggg.

Riddhima's hand appeared from underneath the cover. "Hello?"

"Your wakeup call Ma'am."

Her head peeped out of the covers. 3:30. Good. 5 hours of sleep, plenty.

"Thank you." She put the phone down, got out of bed, walked into the bathroom, splashed water into her face and changed into running clothes. She grabbed her keys and phone and darted out of the room, and went to the hotel's gym. She ran every morning. Ususally she ran outside, but at 3:30 in the morning she wouldn't run outside anywhere, let alone Bomb....opps Mumbai. Got to be politically correct Riddhima.

As she was jogging, all she ran over the project in her mind. Malik Industries, prominent hotel owners, not only in India but all over the world. Hotel owners as well as party organizers? This part of the business must not be publicized too much she surmised. The deal she had worked out, seemed to her, very lucrative. Promising good publicity all over, and a dhamakedar introduction into the Indian market, which, they had been planning for quite a while now. Doing it jointly with Malik enterprises provided credibility and a great platform. But nothing would be certain until she met the head of the company. Mr...Armaan Malik? Riddhima could not recall exactly...Rita had most definitely provided a file on him.

The proposed fashion show cum party was also the grand opening of Jal; The Malik Enterprises' new lush, posh, lavish hotel. It was huge, and something that had never been done before, and Riddhima knew that if it worked out. It would make both companies soar to greater heights.

Her own company, Jaan, was a fashion label. In the past six years, she, along with Rita and two other employees had brought it up to a prominent name in the US. Just last year they had launched in Europe and this year the plan was India. Now a company of 500,000, Jaan had a strong foothold in the fashion industry.

She finished cooling down and jumped off the treadmill. As she walked to the elevator to get to her room she contemplated her meeting at 8:30. Nervousness is something that she did not feel anymore, starting from scratch in the fashion industry just doesn't allow it, if she was prepared, which she always was, she was confident.

She opened her room door and jumped into the shower. Her body relaxed as the water droplets glided down  her body, she always made herself work hard, and a lot. That way she couldn't think about that night. The night that changed everything. It worked in New York, there were people, there were distractions, and there was always work. But back home, in Mumbai, she was so close. So close to her family. So close to her home. No. She corrected herself. Mumbai is not home anymore. It will never be home again. For some, Mumbai is the city of dreams, but for Riddhima. Mumbai is a city of nightmares.