Chapter 4
3:20 AM
She could have dressed more flamboyantly, she knew. Of course she could have - but she didn’t, preferring the elegance of a vintage cocktail gown designed by CoCo Chanel herself, over the more flashy ones designed by/for her contemporaries. It had a boat neckline in white ruffles shot with silver that extended just over the top of her breasts, with a large, ruffled flower detailing to her left, just over the breast there. She had attached a vintage Chanel gold and pink topaz butterfly to that flower. Her whimsy. The black silk descended from underneath the ruffles, skimming her body, never quite hugging it - nor, rendering it shapeless. Rather, it was cut to enhanced her existing curves and skimming it. The dress had extended to an inch or two over her knees. Vintage cocktail. She had worn wheat stockings with a vintage two-toned Chanel black and white pumps to be secured over ankles with fastenings resembling a gentleman’s black bowtie. Khushi adored it! She had carried a Chanel quilted envelope bag, a vintage again - with discreet gold chain handles. She had set off her whole look with a thick gold chain and a art-deco gold rose in each ear, vintage again. The resulting look was discreet, elegant and very very beautiful. Had Khushi wanted, she knew that she could have knocked the men here on their socks. She could have. The thing though was, unlike the social butterflies congregating here, she had to attend the office tomorrow and had to be taken seriously. Who would take a woman seriously if she dressed like Betty Boop? So Khushi had gone for her usual understated elegance and had spent the entire evening nursing a Chardonnay and watching Arnav pick up a darkly gorgeous ex-model and fashion magazine editor in a ruby Anita Dongre cut so short that Khushi could almost see her Hoohaa! She hadn’t reacted, had she? No. Rather, Khushi had smiled brightly and chatted up clients - existing and potential while the CEO had played as hard as he usually worked and the rational Khushi really couldn’t fault him for it. If only it was the same with her emotions though! The seething, volcanic, witches’ brew that had been churning all evening - ever since they had arrived to the Saibal-Pandey evening bash. She turned towards another client, a vinter, and smiled blindly. Work it, Khushi! Work it!
Did he have to look so good? Anybody who didn’t know him would take him for a vain, highly maintained man. Khushi however, knew the truth. He had worked for 12 hours straight at the office, had taken a quick shower there, and had worn the navy Tom Ford London lightweight suit she had sent up for him. He had paired it with a crisp grey shirt and black slacks with narrow black belt. Open collared. His hair was in a stylish disarray that fashion mavens had dubbed the new bedhead, Khushi knew it was because he didn’t have time to dry his damp hair and it had air dried. For a man with his looks and position, he had very little personal vanity. How she had wished that he had been a little more... circumspect about the choice of women gracing his bed as well. She thought about the man who had taken a five minute shower so she could attend this party and sighed, but then who was she to judge him? If he played hard during his off times, Arnav Singh Raizada was known to work even harder. Did he have to smell... this good though?
She nodded again, this time talking to a client who had been with them from the very start. He had wanted a meeting with her or the Raizada, and Khushi would accommodate him - come hell or high waters. That was just how Arnav did business and it had been ingrained in her business ethics as well. Had she been a little less engrossed, Khushi would have noticed what had just happened, and the epiphany that had hit her that night wouldn’t probably have happened. But to get to that, she had to remember what had happened before it; She had been talking to Mr. Oberoi about arranging a potential meeting for the next evening and even had Aman taking down the notes as they spoke (Poor man, he had hoped for a no-shoptalk kind of evening) when a member of the wait staff in dove gray and white had discreetly approached her. Sir, it seemed had wanted to talk. She had sauntered up to him, without her defences in place, having not seen the beautiful woman who had been with him the entire evening. Piss her off already, Arnav? She thought with a small smile, and opened her mouth to ask what he had wanted from her - “Khushi, I’m leaving the chauffeur with you. Come home when you want to.” He looked behind her and Khushi froze, feeling a tall shadow over her. “Adita, and I are getting out...” he had smiled at the tall stick-insect, she thought with loathing. He had put his hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the entrance while he took her key from Khushi. Then they had left. Just like that. Leaving her feeling adrift. Frozen. He had always been a man’s man, she knew that. That probably entailed one-night stands too... Why had he felt the need to flaunt it to her face? Or, even worse, she thought, breathing hard - He hadn’t even noticed how it had made her feel - had he? HAD HE?
She breathed in and out, long and hard, to calm herself down. This was not the time to agonize over her feelings for Arnav! She had a Party to attend, more clients to impress... she wasn’t going to let her personal problems come in between their work. And so, she once again pulled that cheerful smile onto her face, albeit with a lot of difficulty, and dove into the fray. Mingling with potential clients, making polite conversation with the older ones, keeping up appearances- she had to cover for the absence of her CEO now, too, didn’t she? However, she couldn’t help the bitter thoughts that rose in her mind, every time she pictured Arnav and that... Adita... in her car... her car! Oh, the nerve of him! But she managed to calm herself down, chanting the “It-will-be-over-soon” mantra to herself, even as she smiled half-heartedly at a particularly poor joke made by Lakshya Oberoi. she sighed and resignedly prepared herself for a long, long evening.
By the time she stepped out of the party, Khushi was in dire need of a long, hot bath and sleep. She was at the end of her rope, and she just couldn’t handle any more drama tonight. Of course, what she hadn’t realized was that what awaited her at her own home right now, wouldn’t look out of place in a Playboy Magazine’s Penthouse section. Then again, had she known - she wouldn’t have gone home in the first place. But as they always said, Hindsight 20/20.
So, as she stepped into the Living room, she was understandably scandalized at the state that it was in. Cushions from the sofa lay scattered on the floor, as if they had been hastily swept out of their places. The centre table was definitely not placed in the centre anymore and the Vase that had been so beautifully arranged with fresh roses in it was lying on its side on the floor- the roses nowhere to be seen. There was a trail of clothes from the middle of the room- a trail of clothes clearly belonging to a woman she noted in barely repressed horror- as she kicked a flesh colored underthing with her feet, her eyes wide- and followed it to the Master bedroom. The loud song blaring on the stereo system added to her already pounding headache, and she decided she needed to calm herself down. And so, intent on starting her regular stress-busting activity, she headed to her haven- her Kitchen.
But as she entered the kitchen, the sight that met her eyes nearly had her seeing red. two stilettos in white, were lying in the middle of her kitchen counter- while all the other things that had once been neatly arranged in their places lay scattered haphazardly around the kitchen. Her Kitchen! She shuddered as she was assaulted with scarring images of just what might have happened in here for the shoes to be lying like that... there.
She turned around abruptly, cooking far far away from her mind now, and almost ran into her room. Oh God, what was happening in here? the question had no sooner entered her mind, when the sounds started. A low moan first... Vibrating, as if originating from a person’s diaphragm. Was he hurt? Her eyes widened. What could be happening in there? Once again, Khushi, slave to her emotions rather than her intellect had gone towards his bedroom, so conveniently thrown open and it was there, all her illusions had shattered. She was half lying, half sitting on that bed. That bed where she had sometimes slept when he wasn’t home to feel closer to him. THAT bed. He was kneeling between her legs, as if supplicating to some goddess, her inner voice said, snarkily. Was that her rose? Khushi looked on, fascinated. Horrified. Scandalized! He was still in his pants - barely. She could see the top of his checked boxers, and the belt was nowhere in sight. His shirt was off though. Was he? He had bit her on those magnificently high breasts. Then she saw it... Was that her... rose? He was using roses to stroke her there?! Khushi probably could have stayed. She didn’t know why but the flowers had affected her the most. The very same flowers she had picked from their rooftop hothouse; from Arnav’s garden - with love for him. He was using those flowers. She had felt sobs shaking her chest, sobs that she had stifled by biting viciously into her knuckles. Even as tears rained down her cheeks. Even as the sounds intensified. The moans got louder, the screams begun, the harsh breathing, and with the screams came the profanities- uttered in that husky voice. Hers. Khushi sat there, collapsed on the couch, all night. Hearing sounds come and go during different hours. Was she frozen? She couldn’t tell. She just knew that her knees weren’t strong enough to support her then. It was around five when the sounds finally stopped and she garnered enough strength to stagger to her bedroom, collapsing on the bed there - fully clothed, to sleep the sleep of the heartbroken.
The shrill ring of the alarm broke the fitful slumber she’d fallen into and she sat up, her head throbbing and her eyes swollen. she groaned as last night’s images rushed back to her, and fell back into the bed again. not wanting to get up. Never wanting to get up. She stared at the ceiling unseeingly as she tried hard to rid her mind of the heart-stabbing, painful images that seemed to be permanently tattooed in her brain cells- as they wouldn’t just leave her alone! she tried shaking her head, vigorously, till her neck started to throb, she tried rubbing her eyes till all she could see was black spots, she tried pinching herself so that she could concentrate on the pain there- but they just wouldn’t leave her alone.
She sighed as her stomach rumbled- and realized that she would have to get out of the bed if she wanted to survive the day. She shuddered yet again, as the image of those stilettos on her counter came back to her- and she desperately wished that she wouldn’t have to be the one to take those shoes to their owner.
Apparently, it was not her day.
As the first thing she saw when she entered the kitchen were the dratted shoes lying there as she had seen them last night. Growling under her breath, she stamped moodily over to the counter and picked them up, throwing them out of the kitchen none too gently. She looked around the mess that used to be her so-called haven, and sighed again. She would need to clean it up. With absolute alcohol or something of the same degree- or she wouldn’t be able to step inside the place ever again in her life! And so started one of the worst days of Khushi’s life.
She had just finished scrubbing her kitchen vigorously, she couldn’t help imagining Adita’s face at some points and her actions became even more enthusiastic- bordering on violent- as she cleaned. The counters sparkled, until you could probably eat off them and she had then just moved on to making a batch of pancakes for herself. God, she didn’t even remember when she had last eaten. Parties like those - you didn’t eat there, you worked the room. Arnav had taught her that. Did he remember? Just as she had placed them on a plate, and had brought out a tray of butter and maple syrup to enjoy in peace on the kitchen table, she registered a feline presence behind her. Adita, she thought with a sigh. “Can a girl bum off breakfast from the lady of the house?” she said, pleasantly. So pleasantly, in fact that Khushi felt like strangling her with her glossy long hair. She stood nearly six feet in her bare feet, wearing Arnav’s grey shirt from last night. Only his grey shirt, Khushi thought with a wince. She wasn’t really self conscious - that just added to her allure. Oh how she wished she could rub the pancakes- syrup and all- in the woman’s face and invite her to bum-off all she wanted! But she couldn’t so that could she? Oh no! She would have to play the pleasant hostess to her flatmate’s item. Good manners dictated it. Damned manners, she swore to herself, even as she served Adita the first batch, going back to the pan to make herself a second one.
She wanted to bang the plate she brought out for herself on the table when she saw the woman still sitting there. She had taken longer than anyone would ever take in making a couple of pancakes for god’s sake! Oh she hoped she was not in for a lengthy conversation with the woman- she just didn’t feel up to it.
She had just sat down in the chair opposite from Adita’s, silently digging into her breakfast, when Adita started talking. Khushi almost groaned out loud. Couldn’t she catch a break already?
“So, Khushi. That was some clever handling you did there, about all the media ruckus last week.” Khushi looked up from her plate to find Adita smiling pleasantly at her. She smiled half-heartedly, and “hmm”ed- as she nodded acknowledging the appreciation she’d just gotten from Miss I-Like-to-throw-my-shoes-on-people’s-kitchen-counters-at-nights Rao. She figured if she only answered in monosyllables and grunts- she could get out of this highly irritating conversation with this highly frustrating woman sitting in front of her- with both of them alive. But clearly, the woman was incredibly thick- or just plain sadistic, because she continued with the conversation- without paying heed to the broad hint Khushi had just dropped in front of her oh-so-straight and probably fake, nose.
“Well of course, that is to be expected from you, isn’t it? You’ve learnt it all from the best, after all!” and then, she winked at Khushi- in an if-you-know-what-I-mean way. Khushi could just have thrown up. “He does have the most divine... feet,” she winked again, “Although I’d usually say size doesn’t count for much but with our mutual friend here - I’d be lying! Oh and the things he can do with it...” She stretched luxuriantly, moaning. Making Khushi feel like retching. Burning their home down. Bleeding. Blinding herself. Blinding Ms. Rao. Or just plain being swallowed up by the ground. She realized that she was frozen in place- with her mouth hanging open inelegantly, as the spoon dangled from her fingers. “So...” Ms. Rao whispered, conspiratorially, “Is he naturally this... healthy? or... does he use... Not that I am complaining - chemical help?” Khushi could have easily choked herself to death at that point. Why Devi Maiyya? WHY?
After a few more minutes of nauseating conversation from Adita’s side, and hmmms from Khushi’s, Arnav came into the kitchen - A wide smile to greet the friend of the night. He would drop her home on his way to work and they’d hook up, if they felt like it, later again. Except, he saw Khushi’s face. He shot a glance at Adita, who was merrily talking away, and looked back at Khushi, wondering why her face was so red.
Sitting down beside Adita, he smiled at Khushi- and asked if he could have some breakfast too. He was taken aback as Khushi nearly fled into the kitchen- her face still crimson. After about three minutes- a plate full of pancakes was unceremoniously banged in front of him- as Khushi rushed away shouting something incoherent about being late for a meeting with the Oberois. After a delicious breakfast and a quick shower, Arnav was ready to roll. Just as he left his room, dressed in his usual three-piece charcoal Armani suit. The shirt, a deep purple black , as he liked it was in retro style with French cuffs. He always wore the cufflinks Khushi had bought for him with her first paycheck at AR. He could afford better sure, but they wouldn’t be his good luck charm, the way the simple gold ones were. Arnav called out to Khushi as he strapped on his watch, a matching set to Khushi’s graduation present- he heard Adita telling him from the hall that Khushi had already left citing an urgent meeting. Confused as to who she was meeting at freaking 10.00 in the morning, Arnav made a mental note to ask Aman about Khushi’s schedule that day. He was in the middle of a debate about the recent feminist riots taking place all over the city with Adita, when he stopped in his tracks. What was Khushi’s Mercedes doing in the Parking lot when she’d left for work? Frowning, he made his way over to the car, to find a harried looking Prajapati wiping the windshield vigorously.
“Rajkumar, What’s the car doing here? And how did Khushi go to the office?”
Prajapati, their odd, always sweaty and incredibly nervous driver, wiped his hands on his dirty jeans and smiled a shaky smile at Arnav before answering him with his usual stutter.
“Woh... kh- khu-Khushi didi h-has ta-k-ken the b-b-bus to the o-o-office, sa-Saab. She s-said s-s-he w-w-anted me t-to tak-k-e the c-car to the w-w-washers to c-clean it. To fu...fumi...fumigate it!”
Arnav’s first reaction was worry. Khushi was alone in the public transport? She hadn’t travelled by busses for a long time now! then Prajapati’s last words registered in his mind. Wait a second- fumigate it? His eyes widened in horror as he realized what must have happened for Khushi to behave like this! Could she have... seen something? Anything? He shuddered. He refused to believe that she could have. That would be akin to psychologically marring a child! Arnav closed his eyes, creeped out. “Prajapati!” he called out to the man who was trying his best to edge away from his volatile employer. “When had Khushi Didi gotten home last night?” He hoped the answer was different from what he feared it to be. Because if he was right about what had happened to make Khushi react like she was doing... then... he shuddered again. Poor girl! To see your guardian in such a... position... would be awful!
“A-a-round-d m-m-id-ni-ght s-s-sa-a-b.” Rajkumar stuttered, and Arnav closed his eyes in horror. Midnight. Midnight, would be around the time when they had been... Holy shit! Barking an order to Rajkumar to drop Adita to her house, and flinging a half-worded not very convincing excuse in Adita’s direction- Arnav almost ran back to their flat. Dreading the scene there.
The first thing he noticed was their apartment, usually teeming with flowers from his rooftop garden was very very barren. He had taken some roses from one of the vases but what had happened to the rest? Hadn’t Khushi just last evening decorated the whole house with them? He walked towards the kitchen where an intense smell of roses had congregated. Khushi had dumped all the roses in the house in the food disposal. Arnav stared, remembering. Horrified. Had she seen that as well? Oh fuck. Oh no! He walked over to the sink and saw the almost empty bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide lying there. His eyes widened further, if that was even possible. Oh this was frigging awful! he remembered... accosting Adita in here when she had been drinking a glass of water- and then the... stuff... that had followed on this very kitchen counter. She couldn’t have known about that could she? Oh dear fucking lord! Khushi thought of her kitchen as something of a sanctuary... and he’d gone and... Oh he was in such deep shit! Arnav knew when he was in the dog house with a woman. Sure, the woman in question was his ward, but the same principles should apply, right? RIGHT? It’s all yes-dear, no dear and three bags full, dear for a while, if he was to get back to her good books. Arnav did. He knew it was no excuse, but he realized more still, how he had failed her again.
He groaned and buried his head in his hands as he sat down with a thump at the table and looked up again. Why had Khushi been so embarrassed in the morning? Had Adita said something? Oh God he hoped not! Because if she had... even God couldn’t help him with Khushi now. She was surely going to explode. Then there was Adita again, Arnav thought with a sigh. She was a wonderful woman, uncomplicated. Sexy. But, she had a mouth that ran before her brain caught up. Did she stroke the fire more? He shook his head, had to go to the office to find out, hadn’t he? To office he’d go.
Arnav for the first time in his life didn’t feel like going to work today. He hadn’t however, gotten where he had by playing possum and when he stepped into his building, the silence told him more than words could have - He should have stayed at home, dammit. There was Aman, scurrying about like the hounds of hell were after him. Arnav was faintly insulted, even he didn’t induce that terror in Aman, and that five foot nothing of a chick had done that to his trustworthy second in command? Arnav sighed. She wasn’t just any chick, she was Khushi. There went Abtahi Saxena, his marketing head, with tail between his legs, shoulder hunched. Yikes. He looked up, Loren D’Souza followed, looking slightly singed. They had all come out of the boardroom, currently presided over by a certain Ms. Gupta. Aman threw him a pleading look when Khushi called out to him again - A kitten mewling, to be saved from the big bad wolf. Usually Arnav would have taken immense pleasure in watching Khushi tearing a new hole into Aman but today, realizing that they were on the same boat, he called out to Aman - sending the confused, but incredibly grateful man on an errand. He then sauntered into the boardroom to beard the lion, so to speak. “Khushi, are you prepared for the Warsi-Thakur meeting?” he hastily asked his fuming ward. If she was any angrier, he figured that her eyes would pop out and a vein in her head might burst. So he tried to cool her down with work. Warsi-Thakur, the partners whose chauvinistic streak usually made Khushi laugh in spite of herself. Today, however, was not a usual day. Today, when he mentioned the chauvinistic duo, Khushi’s head snapped around to look at him- and he cringed.
“No. You’re doing that meeting on your own.” She snapped, as she gathered her papers up and sauntered out the room. His mouth fell open- and in an unwise move- as he would realize later- he followed her.
“But-but Khushi! You were supposed to attend this meeting with me! We need this deal!” he protested, and hastily took a step back when Khushi turned around abruptly. “Do your own fucking meetings!” she hissed. Yes, he thought dazed, hissed. “The bloody male Chauvinistic Pigs that is Warsi-Thakur and you will get along beautifully,” she added. Then looked at him again, eyes flashing. “So... No. You need this deal. Not we. So do your own Meetings Raizada. Or do you think of me as a glorified sexually hyped 60’s secretary too? Bloody Warsi and Thakur seem to think so! Fucking Male Chauvinist Pigs!” she spat, and then slammed the door to her cabin in his surprised face. Arnav winced. This only usually happened every 28th day of the month - and he was cool with that. But the thought of going through it again, he counted, in another two weeks, Arnav shuddered. He had to set Warsi-Thakur straight.
Maybe he could get into her good books by doing that, he mused, absently as he made his way back to his cabin. Now there was an idea! Arnav took out his pen, scribbling as he played a mental game of chess again - thanking his otherwise worthless father for teaching him the game that made him who he was. J’adoube!
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