Chapter 10
3:44 AM
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Somewhere in the depth of his dreams he heard those lines; an unsung melody. Where they from the past? He couldn’t remember. Maybe someone he used to know had sung it once and it had become embedded into Arnav’s very twisted psyche. Wasn’t it possible? He had been schooled abroad all his life; a Malek snobbery, he thought. Khushi had been schooled late in life, and here in Delhi and she had shown far better promise than he had as an exotic rich kid in that boys’ school for rich kids called Merchiston, Edinburgh. They had partied, done underage drinking, smoked up and had a lark as they would say there. What had he to show for it? Just a foreign school education for blue blooded n’er do wells. Arnav shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of his mind. Where had he heard those lines? They were a Beatles single, and of course they’d be played at school by students but... this was a woman’s voice. Where had he heard it before? Arnav opened his eyes, without having found the answer as the bright morning light intruded. It took all of a minute for last night to intrude and Arnav had to muffle a gasp. What the fuck had happened last night? Why had he gone in a tailspin like that? Shyam Manohar Jha, he thought. How the past had intruded. Did the man even remember attending a client’s wedding some 11 years ago? Would he be of any help to Arnav in finding answers that would lead him to his sister - dead or alive. The chances were narrow. However, Arnav told himself, it was the odds of things that made him where he had. Predicting the odds, winning against them. Who knew, fate might choose to serve him one last time, yet. But first, he thought, he needed information to act as a leverage. He had found that it was always a smart idea in business to be informed about your opponent. That still rings true in this situation. So, he had to now call his trusted private investigator - Bansali.
Arnav was about to get out of bed when he suddenly became aware of a fragrant bundle tangled around him. Her hands encircled his waist, face burrowed in the crook of his neck. What had happened last night? Did he bring somebody over again? Oh hell, Khushi! He turned to extricate himself from the silken bonds of her limbs when he got a good look of her face. Khushi? Are you fucking kidding me? He thought, panicking. What had he done? What the fuck had he done last night?"Khushi." he whispered, and she rubbed her hands down his back, soothingly, indicating that she was listening. "Stay with me Tonight."
She had stayed, his heartbeat slowly went down as the memories followed in quick successions. Plus, she was wearing... stuff. She had stayed last night after his childish pleas, holding her to him so that he could sleep. To keep the nightmares at bay. Nothing... untoward had happened. He wasn’t in any shape for them to happen in the first place. Arnav sighed, then closed his eyes and sent out a thanks to some god he didn’t even believe in. He hadn’t ruined anything. Hadn’t harmed her in anyway. He hadn’t... Arnav turned to look at her and felt... arrested. In the watery light of the dawn she looked like a goddess sleeping. Waiting for a devotee to wake her up. Could he count himself as one? Her lips glistened. Devoid of makeup. Her skin shone with good health. The peach in them deepening with sleep. Arnav wanted to trace lines on it with his fingers, see if the colour would follow. Those lips... what would she do if he placed his squarely on hers and breathed life into her? Would she wake up? Slid his hands underneath that ratty t-shirt and feel the ripe peaches of her breasts? Thumbing those nipples? Would she be sensitive? Would she shudder, almost coming apart in his arms? Arnav would... She opened her eyes, as if the intensity of his stare had forced her to wake up. A woman’s defense mechanism, maybe, he thought feeling like the worst sort of pervert to grace the earth. What was he doing?
She felt... secure. A warm, woodsy scent engulfed her, and she felt safe, as if in this cocoon nothing could hurt her. Not the past, not the present... not even the future. Protected. She burrowed herself even further into the warmth. Not wanting to part with it just yet. Her arms tightened around... something hard. What? Her brows furrowed, her eyes still refusing to open. What was... she was hugging it to herself... she slowly opened her eyes, reluctant to go of the peaceful slumber she’d been in just yet, and her eyes encountered a pair of dark, dilated Caramel ones. She was mesmerized. Instantly. There was no other word for it. The beautiful warm, chocolate got darker as it narrowed into the darkest of brown irises. the lashes that framed those beautiful, hypnotizing eyes were thick and long. The dark masculine brows only added further charm to those eyes. She traced that straight long nose, Arrogance redefined. The high bladed cheek-bones; Aristocratic. Her eyes descended on his face, a face that could only be named Perfection, to rest on those lips. Would they be hard, like the planes of his face? Or would they be soft, heavenly- contradicting like this wonderful man was? What would he do, if she touched them with hers? felt them against hers? Moved her lips over them? Bit that lusciously full bottom lip, nibbled on it? Her eyes remained there, refusing to move- as thought after dizzying thought blurred her mind. What would he do, if she kissed him, she thought- absently, as the distance between them gradually shortened. Her hands still around him. She could feel those hard panes of his torso. The ones he’d worked out so much for. Of their own accord coming up to grip his arms- the muscles twitching under her small fingers. She was a breath away now. Her soft body pushed flush against his hard one. She could feel him against her every curve. Her chest heaved, her head buzzed, Blood roared in her ears, even as it thickened to hot sweet honey inside her veins. Her eyes drooped, almost closing, her lungs filling up with his masculine scent.... a scent that could only define Arnav. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribcage. Arnav. She felt his hands come up to clutch her shoulders too, She raised her head- their lips but a breath apart. She could feel his hot warm breath fanning her cheeks, her jaw. Her own breath starting to come in short gasps. Her breasts touched his chest, a thrilling electric current coursing through her starting from those tips touching him, right down to her centre. She moved her thighs restlessly- the unfamiliarly familiar sensation heightening her intoxication. And then... she felt it.... him. Hard, against her thigh. Almost... poking her. A shudder ran through her, as the realization of exactly what she had been about to do hit her like a ton of bricks. Her hands, clutching his arms tightened momentarily, before she withdrew them. Her heart threatening to break through her chest and run away. Her lungs constricting as she realized she had been thinking about... She closed her eyes in shame. Ashamed at her wanton reaction to him. She moved back. Her eyes still closed, her legs drawing away from his. Her breath still stuttering as she almost crawled to the edge of the... his bed. Her hand coming up to clutch at her chest momentarily before she jumped out of the bed, stammering “B..Breakfast. I’ll make breakfast! You want Irish Eggs? I’m making Irish Eggs. With toasts. And,” she gulped, as he stared, eyes unreadable, all traces of sleep eradicated, did he know? “Irish Eggs with sausages. I’ll go now. Breakfast.” Khushi felt as if her IQ had dropped by at least 40 points. Had she been able to laugh it off? No. Did she joke about it? No to that too. No, Khushi Kumari Gupta had gone on to stammer about bloody Irish Eggs. Devi Maiyya! She implored, as she ran out of the room into her own to freshen up and start breakfast.
When she had come out of her own room, having freshened up, Khushi was probably in a better frame of mind. Her defenses were in place more firmly. If Arnav asked her about the awkward encounter in his bedroom... She would just laugh it off. Yes! She thought, inspired. Laugh! She started heating a large skillet, while Khushi quickly took out some pre-boiled, chopped potatoes and 4 eggs from the freezer. She will make him his bloody Irish Eggs and laugh it all off. Even if it killed her. She had started mincing the onions, viciously when she thought - what was wrong with her? Hadn’t it been a hard hard journey to get their relationship on an even keel after the pre-Hong Kong Love confession disaster? Why was she always catering to horrors of that sort? Khushi viciously reached for a Green bell pepper, to chop. Oh, how she could chop out that piece of herself. That piece that craves him so bad. Thirsts for him, almost! She quickly added about two spoons of butter to the skillet, while she cursed herself for noticing the musky masculine smell of him. Of darkness and sins, chocolate and cinnamon. Of all her favourite things rolled in one. What was wrong with her? Really? She quickly stirred in the chopped potatoes, bell pepper and onion, and stirred occasionally, waiting for it to brown. As she started beating the eggs with milk, Khushi wished someone would scramble her brains similarly. How would he react if he knew that the girl he called his baby was lusting after him? Losing sleep thinking about coming together with him? Khushi shook her head, even as she added salt and pepper to the mixture and poured into the skillet, adding chopped mushrooms and sausages. As the frittata set, almost pie-like, she quickly toasted some bread. The bloody Irish Eggs with toast were ready. Where was his bloody highness Arnav-I-feel-nothing-but-morning-wood Singh Raizada now? Didn’t he want his breakfast to go? “Arnaaaaaav!” she screamed, her voice dripping honey, sharp as a the titanium razor blades they advertised on the TV. Just as deadly. Just as seemingly harmless. “Don’t you want your eggs?”
Arnav lay there, still, unmoving- as the extent of what had almost happened just a few moments ago descended on him. He had almost kissed her. Kissed her. Khushi. he thought with an agonized moan, as he fell back in the bed. His eyes closing, as his mind replayed the torturous images of Khushi in his arms. Khushi coming ever closer to him, tipping her head back- him bowing his head- his lips tingling, ready to take hers- taste her, nibble on her... devour her. He could still feel her soft womanly curves against his body. Those lush soft swollen breasts brushing against his chest. Sending Electric bolts through him. Had she felt them? Or was it just him? Her small hands clutching his biceps- as the muscles twitched under those dainty feminine digits. His mind- his traitorous mind- imagining them wrapped elsewhere- as he dazedly inched forward- drawn to her like a… a moth to a flame! Ready to be burned, almost welcoming the burning sensation... craving it! He had been aroused... almost to the point of combustion. Spontaneous combustion. Painfully Aroused. Had she felt him? He thought, color rising in his cheeks, as he slid down under the covers- hiding himself from the room- trying to hide from the fucking perverted feelings he was having for... Khushi. He groaned again. What was he going to do about her? How in hell had he lost control? He... he couldn’t lose her! No! He couldn’t... not because of some out of control hormones! He was disgusted with himself... he hadn’t felt like this since early teenage days! No, He wasn’t going to lose Khushi- Never. He would act like nothing had happened. Yes. Nothing had happened! It was fine! Everything was just fine! He rubbed his hand over his face. Something needed to be done about this... this lust he was feeling for her. What would she think? If she knew he was lusting after her like a goddamned pervert? Thinking about having her? Having dreams about her... arching over him, screaming under him? He shuddered. No... she didn’t need to know about it. No. this was his problem and he would handle it. His Khushi didn’t need to know about any bloody thing that went on in his fucked up mind.
He had just come out of an ice-cold shower- shaking the water out of his ears, when he heard her shrill scream. “Arnaaaaaaav!” He looked up, gazing out the door. “Don’t you want your eggs?” He groaned. His name falling out her lips taking him back in the convoluted nightmare- or was it dream?- again. Why did she have to scream like that? He thought, angry at himself and her. Really, did she think he was deaf? She sounded so... she sounded like how he wanted her to sound when she came, he thought baldly. With him inside her, surrounding him with her damp warmth that would burn him up. Pull him back for more. They would both be gasping. They would... Stop! He told himself. Oh God Stop!
“I’m Coming!” he yelled back and winced. Oh Boy. He needed another shower. He was a fucked up bastard. He really was. A screwed over, fucked up, convoluted, sick minded perverted Bastard! Arnav was pretty sure that right at that moment if heaven and hell really did exist -they were carving a special niche in hell for him, and him alone for having these... these thoughts about his ward.
They had breakfast while Khushi talked. Animatedly. Feverishly. While Arnav silently tried to eat his frittata, she spoke of NK, of their banks, of some party she had been looking forward to when she got home. Naivdyam’s expansions. The New chef she was looking into. Her skin. Water conservation. Khushi spoke of music, of art and of films - both indian and foreign. In fact, by the end of the breakfast, she had spoken so much, her sexy mouth moving, pouting around the orange she was nibbling on had given him another hard on and the cruel, violent part in him felt as if she was doing it deliberately to torture him. Arnav at one point wanted to wrap his hand around that thick hair perkily put up in a ponytail, and use it to pull her towards him roughly. Plunder that rosebud mouth, bite those lips. He wanted to pull her to him with that said ponytail and put that sassy mouth to a better use that would end with his satisfaction. Arnav closed his eyes tightly, trying to control his body’s reactions. “I am done Khushi,” he said normally. “The breakfast was great. Next time, let’s add Canadian Ham?” He got up, and put his dish in the dishwasher, his back to her for a minute to control himself. He then turned around and looked at her. Just looked. To see what she does next. Wasn’t she affected at all? What the fuck was that then? Was it just him?
Khushi could feel him gazing at her, his eyes unreadable. Dark. Was he thinking about what she had done in the morning? About how she had almost assaulted him? she thought her cheeks reddening, as she talked about random things- trying to make up for his silence. What was he thinking? She saw him close his eyes, his brow furrowing, the skin around his eyes tightening, and her mouth went dry. His lips tightened, the lower lip stretching across... inviting her to bite it. To taste it... lick it... Khushi stop! she chided herself horrified at how far her mind was running. This was ridiculous. What was she going to do?
“...The breakfast was great. Next time, let’s add Canadian Ham?” he said, as cool and normal as could be. Did he not feel anything? Maybe he hadn’t noticed anything? She thought hopefully, even as a small part of her heart wilted. She watched as he got up, turning away, his back facing her, as he put his dish in the dishwasher. The shirt stretching across the rippling muscles of his back. Her eyes traced those broad shoulders, tapering down into a trim waist, his trousers hanging low on his hips... She shuddered, what was she thinking? He turned around and looked at her, and she swallowed- hoping that he didn’t notice the sudden flush that had risen on her cheeks. She tried to slow down her breathing, looking down at the orange in her hand, as she nibbled it, then looking back up at him- hoping that she looked normal... not like the wanton woman that she felt inside. There was a heavy, persistent ache in her lower belly, and all she knew was Arnav was the only one who could make it stop. Did that mean it wouldn’t ever go away? She thought, and shuddered, voluptuously as the Mumbai heat made him unselfconsciously use his t-shirt to wipe the sweat gathering on his forehead, flashing her his beautifully formed abdomen. He had a runners or swimmers body, she thought, through a haze of lust. Lanky, without being thin, beautifully formed. Slick. Smooth. She could almost taste the sweat running down his bare abdominal muscles now. They would be salty, as would be his skin. She would swirl her tongue around, scrape with her teeth. She would suck on little patches of skin, leaving her mark on him. Khushi would then... She breathed hard, shivering slightly. Devi Maiyya!
Her heart clenched painfully, and so did her body as an image of that perfect body over hers invaded her mind. Naked. Sweat pouring off it. As he threw his head back, a bead of sweat tracing his adam’s apple as he moved over her... slowly, sinuously. She would then thrust back, use her fingers to trace the beautiful shape of him above her, stroke his adam’s apple. Trace invisible words on his chest while he kept on invading her. She would keep arching, pushing against him. Shuddering. More. She would always want more. It would be a battle between them almost. A battle of wills. To see who gives in first. Would she come first? Would he? She would then... Khushi clutched the laminated counter behind her for support. What was she to do Devi Maiyya? What was she to do now?
Distraction. she thought frantically, she needed distraction. She looked around herself hurriedly, searching for something, anything to do. Something that would keep her away from those... thoughts about him. There, she spotted her salvation, right there, leaning against the scullery door in the kitchen. The vacuum cleaner. Yes, she would vacuum the house down, physical labour she had found, helped her sweat out the mental tangles and this... this thing with Arnav was the biggest snaggle she had ever experienced.
What was she doing? He thought, exasperated, what was she doing, really? In that filmy blue gray skirt and the white floaty summer top, she was already doing things to him. The top had scattered little blossoms all over, summery. She reminded him of the summers at Scotland. Beautiful, flowers blooming everywhere. Still a bit of chill about to remind him who's the boss. Arnav almost grinned, now she had him reciting poetry above all else. These things he was imagining about her... things he would love to do- Things that were... wrong. Now she had to vacuum? Why? Didn’t they have a cleaner already? “Khushi, why are you vacuuming now?” he bit out tersely. Sounding more pissed off than he really was, after all what he really felt was desperation, really. “Cleaning. We’ve got dust everywhere Arnav, and it irritates me,” she replied. Her voice was hoarse, a sexy break between the words. Why the fuck did he have to notice those things, now? Then she had started vacuuming. He had told himself that it was an average menial job that anybody could do. That she was cleaning, for Gawdssake! But no, she wasn’t. Not really. At least, not to his eyes. She was moving, scythe-like. Sinuously. Twisting and turning in her attempt to reach those hard to reach places. A new take on the whole sexy bai tale, he thought ironically, God! Arnav closed his eyes, praying for strength, even as sweat popped on his forehead. He opened his eyes again and.. aww man! He wish he didn’t. He thanked the divinity that he had. She was bent over, vacuuming underneath the couch. The filmy gray blue material was almost but not quite translucent in the harsh morning light and he could see it almost framing the peach of her bottom so prettily. little upturned heart he thought and almost hit himself for noticing it. Arnav just wanted to touch. To caress. He could almost feel himself squeeze it, cradle it at the palm of his hand. He bit out a breathless oath. There, right there … sweat was dripping down her face, trailing down her shadowed cleavage while her whole body glowed with perspiration. She then knelt down, her attempt at cleaning out underneath the couch applause worthy. Except, Arnav didn’t feel like applauding. He could see the skirt framing her buttocks tightly. He could make out the shape and see a slight pantyline. Her hips swaying voluptuously to some inner rhythm that had him sweltering. This was a cruel and unusual punishment, he thought, this was heaven. Arnav got up and paced. The cooler needed to be cranked down, he thought, the Mumbai heat was driving him crazy. Arnav stalked up and lowered the temperature of the AC and stalked out to his own room. He had a flashback from his childhood when one of the characters from Star Trek had said, “Resistance is futile,” Arnav finally knew what they had meant. Didn’t mean he was giving in though.
Khushi looked up, as he murmured something to himself and walked off to his room- heaving a sigh of relief, when he slammed the door behind him. What was she going to do about him? she thought, exasperated at herself... ashamed of herself- for wanting him- for almost putting their relationship in jeopardy, because she couldn’t control her hormones. She almost flung the vacuum cleaner aside, agitated, as she paced the living room. What was she going to do?
She looked up at the shrill ring of her phone- almost tripping in her haste to reach it. Anything to get away from those... she shuddered and answered the call.
“Hey there Gorgeous! Miss me?”
It was as if a plug had been pulled, draining all the tension away from her. And for the first time that day, she laughed. NK. Why hadn’t she thought of him before?
“NK! I missed you... but clearly, you didn’t!” she said, plopping down on the couch, crossing her ankles, relaxing... truly relaxing for the first time in hours. She could talk to NK for days, and she wouldn’t get tired! He was just that... cheerful. And he knew how to cheer her up. And so, grabbing the golden opportunity with both hands, and tightly, Khushi talked. about everything. How she hated Mumbai’s humid weather. How she missed Delhi. How she missed their Lunch dates... everything. If NK found her talk weird, he didn’t let on. gently teasing her, prodding her to tell him more, asking her about the launch.
Arnav had been pacing his bedroom for what felt like ages now. What the fuck was this? he thought angrily. He wasn’t going to let it get this awkward between them! No, you go out there Arnav Singh Raizada, and you act all normal. Just because you’re a perverted bastard doesn’t mean that you should give Khush a cold shoulder. She’ll get hurt- and that was something he wouldn’t do consciously, ever. It’s alright then, he thought with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. She doesn’t know anything and if he had his way - never would. All he had to do was go out, make her smile and get both of them the hell out of the house and from the proximity of their very very comfortable beds. He would take her out to a cinema and then they’d grab a quick bite to eat. All would be right in their world again. All he had to do... Arnav’s strides came to a quick halt when he heard her say, “I don’t know what to do any more NK! I don’t like Mumbai. I wish you were here! I wish you were here and would give me a big hug!” Arnav felt... hurt. He was pissed, sure but he was surprised to note that hurt was the premiere emotion ruling the roost at that moment. He had brought her to Mumbai, if she had any complaints, shouldn’t they have been addressed to him? He was the one who always had given her hugs to make her feel all better. Why was she asking for them from NK? Arnav closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Too fucking bad that his room had no breakable objects. Something told him that they’d be shattered by now. As quickly as he had come into the living room, he strode back, slamming the door behind him. Fuck that. Fuck this. He didn’t need this shit! He really didn’t.
No, he couldn’t get angry. Not after what they’d already gone through because of that... that jerk Singhania. She didn’t like Mumbai without NK huh? Well too fucking bad! She would just have to make do with her guardian wouldn’t she? He thought viciously, and stamped back out of his room and into the Living room. He was going to make her stay far away from NK Singhania. If that meant he had to amuse her for a whole day without going to work... well then so be it. But Singhania was in no way coming near his Khush. His, he thought, a bad tempered child unwilling to share his favourite toy. And that was Final! It’s Open Game Singhania, he thought, viciously. Bring on your pawns.
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