“You’re here, sitting beside me now. Why should I be jealous? That girlfriend of yours should be the one getting jealous.” Mahira casually opened the lunch box and placed a pair of chopsticks next to it. “Eat up. I just bought
this from a restaurant.”
Parth saw Mahira’s nonchalant, couldn’t-care-less attitude, and felt a thrill of desire. Somehow, she always knew exactly how to push his buttons…
Parth hurriedly wolfed down his lunch, and soon had Mahira join him in an “afternoon nap.”
…
“Sir, here are the photos from the past few weeks.” Harsh, Sidharth’s orderly, placed a stack of photos on Sidharth’s desk—shots of Parth and Mahira being “intimate.”
“What are you going to do? Will you be sending these to Sana?”
Sidharth had a cigarette in his hand. He sifted through the photos with his free hand as he said impassively, “Why would I do that? She’s underage. She’s not old enough to see these things.”
As long as Parth did not go to America, Sidharth did not see the need to intervene. Besides, Shehnaaz had chosen Parth herself. It did not matter if he was the scum of the earth—she would have to discover the fact for herself. Some lessons had to be learnt the hard way.
Shehnaaz would have to learn how to navigate the uncharted territory of love on her own.
Sidharth could not help her with that.
He tossed the photos into a special drawer, locked it, and waved Harsh out of his study.
September was drawing to a close. C City was currently in the middle of an Indian Summer; it had gotten increasingly warm over the last several days.
Sidhqrth sat quietly.
His tall, sturdy figure filled his high-back office chair. The hard, unyielding expression on his achingly beautiful face seemed to drift in and out of the lingering cigarette smoke.
The last rays of the setting sun filtered into the room through the gaps in the blinds; they painted a series of lines upon the floor, an intangible ladder that no one would ever be able to climb.
“Sir?” Rohit knocked on the door of the study.
Sidharth stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.
“Come in.”
“Oh geez—how many cigarettes are you smoking a day now?” Rohit’s nose wrinkled at the overpowering smell of tobacco in the room. He tried to wave the lingering smoke away as he asked anxiously, “Is something bothering you?”
“I’m fine.” Sidharth pointed to the chair before him.
“Sit. Did you have something to report?”
“Really? Nothing’s bothering you? Okay then.” Rohitsat down. A wide grin spread across his face. “I just bumped into Harsh. I heard that he took some… um… very
interesting photos, so I came over to… broaden my horizons. You know, to help with my anti-seduction training.”
Sidharth opened the drawer and tossed the photos of Parth and Mahira to him. “Knock yourself out. He looks like a scraggly, plucked chicken. I don’t think the photos will do anything for your anti-seduction training, but maybe they’ll help increase your immunity to nausea.”
Rohit eagerly slid the photos over. He kept up a running commentary as he looked them over, one by one: “Well, he is kind of pale, and not exactly rippling with muscles, so you’re right, he looks like a naked chicken. The
woman, on the other hand, is smokin’ hot. And boy can she pull off some really difficult positions—she must be what they call an ‘old driver’.”
Sidharth: “…You’re very knowledgeable.”
“I learned it from Sana. You know how it is, I have to be up-to-date with all the latest internet slang if I want to bridge the generation gap,” Rohit replied readily, his eyes glued to the photos. When he was done going through the stack of photos, he clucked his tongue appreciatively.
“Were all these taken by Harsh? His eye for dramatic angles and lighting is improving by the day. Some of these photos can even pass for art.”
“Art?” Sidharth’s brow furrowed slightly. “Don’t they make you feel sick?”
“…I think the photos are pretty good. The subjects are a lot more attractive than the average joe you see on the streets.” Rohit chuckled, and wriggled his eyebrows at Sidharth suggestively. “…Are you beginning to lose ‘it’? That would be terrible. You have to stay healthy—and we all know being able to get it up is a sign of health for us men.”
Sidharth responded by throwing the ashtray at Rohit’s face.
Rohit ducked the incoming projectile with a well-timed turn of his head. He laughed. “I’m just kidding. But seriously—aren’t you going to get married? You’re already 28.”
Rohit was Sidharth’s personal secretary; he was well-acquainted with his lifestyle.
Sidharth had spent practically every day of the past six years working. He had not had any time to call his own; neither of his personal secretaries had ever seen Sidharth interact with a woman—any woman—in private,
much less get into a romantic relationship with one.
“None of your business.” Sidharth did not look at him. He turned on his computer and began working. “Check my itinerary. Make sure to keep my schedule open on the dates before and after Sana’s birthday.”
“Wait, you mean you’re going to America to celebrate Sana’s birthday?! Can I go with you?! It’s Sana’s 18th birthday! A huge milestone!” Rohit’s eyes lit up. He
looked at Sidharth eagerly.
“Of course you’ll be going.” Sidharth nodded. “You watched her grow up.”
The chubby little 12-year-old girl who had suffered from crippling anxiety back then had grown into a lovely, confident young woman.
Her 18th birthday was a huge occasion for both Shehnaaz and the men who had practically raised her.
Sidharth would have to travel under an assumed identity to attend Shehnaaz’s 18th birthday party in the United States.
This was easy enough for the Special Operations Forces to pull off, however.
Rohit was an old hand at camouflage and deception.
…
Two weeks later, Kartik finally returned to Washington.
He disembarked from the plane, looking a little worse for wear after the long flight. But he did not stop to rest; instead, he immediately paid a visit to the Capitol Building to see what Shehnaaz was up to.
Shehnaaz was not in the office for the Committee of Appropriations.
“Mary, where’s my student?” Kartik smiled as he placed a small souvenir on Mary’s desk.
Mary gestured exaggeratedly as she said, “You mean Gill? She’s gone to some other department to chat. She hasn’t had any work to do in the past few days, so she’s been visiting the other offices. Everyone here recognizes her now —she’s such an adorable, cheerful little rose.”
Kartik was still smiling, but the blue veins on his temples had surfaced.
That little brat—she was supposed to be working, not going around chatting up people. She had to be taught a lesson.
Kartik turned and stalked out of the office.
…
He stood with his hands in his pockets in the doorway to the office for the Commission for Unrestricted Ocean Travel, and
watched a pretty girl mingle with the congressmen and staff around her. The pink Chanel dress she was wearing stood out like a shining beacon among the black and white suits.
The girl was Shehnaaz. She sat next to John, the chairman of the Commission for Unrestricted Ocean Travel, as she cheerfully chatted with him.
In the past two weeks, Shehnaaz had been virtually barred from doing any kind of work at the Committee of Appropriations. It had begun with certain restrictions on her account, and eventually escalated into a complete lock-out.
She was extremely reluctant to approach Rashmi for help while Kartik was away, so she simply did the next best thing—nothing. She flitted cheerfully from one committee to another every day like a true social butterfly.
She had picked up her people skills from Brother Khatri, and
was soon even better at making friends than he was.
The congressmen and other Capitol Building employees were happy to have a pretty little Asian girl to chat with during their downtime.
“Mr. John, are you sure that the United States will be withdrawing from the International Maritime Convention? Didn’t the US help draft it in the first place?” Shehnaaz fluttered her lashes as she put on her best impression of a silly, ignorant girl who was clearly one sandwich shy of a picnic.
“That pretty little head of yours will never be able to understand.” John shook his head, chuckling. He turned on his computer and opened a file. “Do you know what this is?”
Shehnaaz frowned as she leaned over to look at the computer screen: it was a scanned image of an old document.
The document was entirely yellow with age. It was ancient.
She looked at the signatures on the document, and her pouty cherry lips parted in surprise. “What? This document is from the last century?!”
“Yes. You know about the League of Nations? The United States came up with the idea for it, but Congress was opposed to it, so we never actually joined the League.” John laughed heartily. “Isn’t that interesting? That’s just the way
international politics work—there are no rules, no laws, no concept of fair play. If you have the power and the means, you can get away with anything. Everything is done for the sake of national interest; the convention was beneficial to us, at one point, so we joined it. But now the convention is holding us back, so why would we stay in it and let the other countries get ahead of us?”
“…Isn’t it kind of embarrassing for a country to go back on its word?” Shehnaaz glanced at John. “The US is supposed to be a global leader.”
John rolled his eyes haughtily. “Like I even care what the other countries think. If they don’t like it, they can go to hell.”
Shehnaaz gave him a thumbs-up. “Such confidence! Just like the Overlord of Western Chu!”
“The Overlord of Western Chu? Who’s that?” John asked curiously.
Gu Nianzhi was caught off-guard by his question. She was trying to come up with a roundabout way to say that the Overlord of Western Chu had eventually killed himself, when she heard someone cough from the doorway, loud and clear.
She knew that voice.
Shehnaaz turned around in surprise.
Kartik cut a handsome figure standing in the doorway, but the look on his face was as cold as Arctic snow. His frigid eyes were fixed upon Shehnaaz —he looked as though he meant to freeze her in place.
But Shehnaaz was not bothered by his frosty expression; she was not afraid of him, at all. She smiled cheerfully as she jumped to her feet and hurried over to him to gush, “Professor Sen, you’re finally back! I missed you so much!”
The anger welling within Kartik immediately deflated upon Shehnaaz ’s enthusiastic greeting.
He grabbed hold of her arm, nodded to everyone else in the
room, and led her out of the office.
Brother Khatri heard from his colleagues that Kartik had come to the office. He quickly ran after them, but the corridor was already empty.
Kartik had already left with Shehnaaz .
“Professor Sen, I’m so glad you’re back. The last two weeks without you have been complete torture for me.” Shehnaaz turned on the charm as she shamelessly played up to Kartik.
The corners of Kartik’s mouth curved upwards. The frosty expression on his face had melted away.
They went to Shehnaaz ’s office to get her backpack. After that, he led her to his Rolls-Royce and told the chauffeur: “We’re going back to the estate.”
Shehnaaz was suddenly uneasy. “…Did you come here from the airport, Professor Sen?”
Kartik nodded. “I just got off the plane.” He turned his head and scrutinized her pretty, youthful face. “You’re doing well, I see. You’ve put on weight.”
“Oh no!” Shehnaaz covered her face with her hands in flustered embarrassment. “I’ll have to go on a diet again. No dinner for me tonight.”
Kartik rolled his eyes at her. “A diet? You’re just a kid. You won’t grow any taller if you start skimping on your food —don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I don’t have to grow any taller. I’m tall enough already,” Shehnaaz replied stubbornly. “I’ll end up growing horizontally, and I don’t want that.”
Kartik ’s eyes flickered to her high heels. “Oh? When did you start wearing heels?”
Shehnaaz shuffled her feet away, somewhat embarrassed.
“I’m just wearing these to go with my dress…”
Kartik could not resist reaching out and tousling her hair. “Did you really miss me?”
“Of course I missed you.” Shehnaaz nodded vigorously.
“Miss Wen was so unbearably bossy when you weren’t around. Who died and made her king?”
With that, she launched into a long spiel detailing all her grievances with Rashmi.
Kartik ’s expression darkened as he listened to her.
When she was done, he said slowly, “…When you said you missed me, you meant you wanted me to come back as quickly as possible to back you up against Miss Desai. Is that it?”
“Exactly! You’re so smart, Professor Sen!” Shehnaaz praised
him cheerfully. “I’m so glad you’re back—otherwise, I’d be stuck doing nothing for the rest of my internship.” She quickly explained the problems she had been facing with her account.
Kartik did not say anything. He leaned into his seat, and rubbed his brow in helpless frustration.
He should have known that this little ungrateful brat did not miss him at all. She had only been looking forward to “borrowing” his authority to knock Miss Desai down a peg…
“Professor Sen? Are you tired?” Shehnaaz was feeling restless now. “Why don’t you send me back to my apartment? I don’t want to intrude, you should rest up for the next two days.”
Kartik lifted his hand from his brow. His lips were pressed into a straight, humorless line. The warmth in his bright, almond-shaped eyes gradually cooled to match the icy expression on his face.
He looked at her for a moment, before asking, “I was away for two weeks. What have you done in the meantime? Nothing?”
“Well, it’s not like I didn’t try. I figured out what you meant
about the Committee of Appropriations, but I lost my
account privileges. It’s more or less restricted to Visitor Access now, I can’t do anything with it.” Shehnaaz shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, you can check for
yourself.”
Kartik did not reply. He immediately got out his phone
and called a few of the employees working in the Capitol Building.
He quickly confirmed what Shehnaaz had told him.
The woman who answered the phone at the Capitol Building was very polite to Kartik. She smiled as she assured him: “We’ll lift the restrictions on your student’s account, as soon as you sign a form for her.”
“Okay. I’ll sign it tomorrow.” Now that Kartik knew exactly what had happened, he no longer blamed Shehnaaz. He glanced sideways at her. “Why didn’t you go to Miss Desai? She could have helped you with this.”
“…I didn’t want to deal with her,” Shehnaaz said bluntly.
“You weren’t around. What if she tried to set me up? I could have cried my eyes out over it and no one would have sided with me.”
Kartik gave a snort of laughter. He tousled her hair again. “Is that why you’re crying to me now?”
“I’m not crying about it, I’m lodging a formal complaint.” Shehnaaz ducked to avoid Kartik’s hand. “Stop messing with my hair, I’m almost 18.”
Kartik withdrew his hand. His expression had turned icy.
“I know, you don’t have to remind me.”
Shehnaaz was actually about to remind him about something else, but changed her mind when she saw that he was no longer in the mood to talk. She shut her mouth,
frustrated, and turned to look at the scenery beyond the car window.
The Rolls-Royce drove them to Kartik’s mansion near the Potomac River. It was a quiet, comfortable, and uneventful journey.
The massive iron gates swung open to reveal a tarmac road that led towards a white mansion. The road was flanked by lush green lawns and scattered flowerbeds.
Several gardeners, seemingly of Hispanic origin, stood in the flowerbeds, pruning the leaves.
When they saw the Rolls-Royce drive by, everyone stopped what they were doing to wave at the car.
Shehnaaz watched all this with wide, curious eyes. She turned to Kartik and asked, “Professor Sen, did you actually get this rich just by being a lawyer?!”
It did not seem possible. Even if it were, Kartik would have to be a 70 or 80-year-old geezer with a lifetime of work behind him to be this rich.
She had seen his resume: he was only 28 years old!
No one, not even someone as talented as Kartik, could rake in so much money in just three years. It boggled her mind to think about it.
Kartik saw the doubtful look on her face, but made no move to offer an explanation. He got out of the car, his expression still inscrutable and frosty, and held the door open for Shehnaaz as she got out.
The chauffeur, the gardeners tending to the flowerbeds, and
the housekeeper who had emerged from the house to receive Kartik were all flabbergasted by his actions.
Kartik ’s drivers, gardeners, and house staff treated with him the utmost respect. He rarely opened any doors in his own home, let alone the car doors, himself. The Rolls-Royce driver who rushed out was an overweight man in his mid-forties, with a face face so sunburnt it was as bright as a
tomato’s. Rubbing his palms, his face blanched when he called out nervously, “Mr. Sen, allow me.” The driver came over to open the door for Shehnaaz.
Kartik turned to look at him. An outsider wouldn’t notice anything, but the driver felt the icy glare chill him to the bone. Will Mr. Sen dismiss me for just opening the door a second too late? Sweat immediately beaded on the driver’s forehead. He had been unemployed for many years and had only found this job after much difficulty three years ago. The salary was double the market average, and the included benefits were similar to government positions, so his whole family received medical insurance. For the first time in his twenty years of working, he was qualified to receive pension. He could not afford to lose this job! “Mr. Sen!” The driver pleaded, his red face scrunching up in anxiety.
Shehnaaz stepped out of the car and curiously looked at the driver, then Kartik. “Professor Sen?” She frowned at the anxious man.
Kartik’s expression relaxed as he nodded to the driver, “It’s fine, she’s my… student. I’ll take her in myself. Park in the garage and take her home later.”
The driver heaved a great sigh of relief, grinning at Shehnaaz and bowing deeply.
Shehnaaz was perplexed but smiled as she nodded to him.
“Thank you.”
Shehnaaz followed Kartik to the 19th century colonial-style white mansion. “Professor Sen, this is your home? Do your parents live here?” Shehnaaz was growing nervous.
The last time she had been to Kartik’s Boston home, she remembered that it had been much smaller in comparison to the imposing manor before her; it must’ve been a temporary residence. The manor was thoroughly vintage and it was apparent that it had been passed down in the family and that countless generations had resided there.
Shehnaaz realized that this must be Kartik’s ancestral home. That was probably the reason how Kartik had amassed such a fortune and numerous servants at a young age. He must be someone born from old money, Shehnaaz
thought in awe.
Kartik shook his head with a smile. “No, my parents aren’t here. This is just a temporary place.”
This huge manor was just temporary?! Shehnaaz was astounded. She was speechless and followed Kartik up the wide steps and into the living room. Two dark-haired, blue-eyed American female servants opened the French doors. They were tastefully crafted from precious oak. A great oval hall revealed itself after the entrance. Two giant
spiral staircases rose to the upper floor. Shehnaaz looked up and estimated that the manor was three or four stories high. How many rooms were there exactly? She wondered.
“Professor Sen, do you have a lot of people in your family?”
Shehnaaz asked with a grin. “There are so many rooms…”
she trailed off as she spread her arms and twirled. “How many people can live here?”
“I live here alone.” Kartik paused, and then said, “Teaching Assistant Desai lives in a guest house on the
ground.” Such a large manor would also have multiple smaller lodgings scattered on the property. It was nighttime and the lamps turned on, illuminating the small buildings like seed pearls in the grass that surrounding the main house.
Shehnaaz smiled at the fact that her professor wasn’t exactly alone, but she also secretly wondered why Teaching Assistant Desai had to live there. Was she really a servant and caretaker as well? Suddenly, she recalled a rainy scene at the C University library some months ago. It had been pouring out and Rashmi had carried an umbrella as she helped Kartik get into the car. She had completely shielded him from the rain and didn’t seem to mind getting soaked. At the time, Shehnaaz had mocked her for looking like a caretaker, instead of a teaching assistant. It was clear
that the two had a deep relationship. Shehnaaz understood that it would be disrespectful if she continued to complain about Rashmi’s every questionable action. Perhaps Kartik had brought her to his home in order to make clear his unusual relationship with Rashmi, so that Shehnaaz wouldn’t give her a hard time anymore. For the first time, Shehnaaz was uncertain about her next three years of post-grad studies. Had Rashmi really been looking out
for her when she had discouraged her from pursuing the post-grad position from the start? This is too scary. Shehnaaz shook her head and suppressed the thought.
“What are you thinking about?” They had made their way to the kitchen. Kartik opened the fridge and passed a watermelon smoothie to her after some rummaging about.
“You can ask me anything that you’re not clear about; don’t overthink things. That’s not your style.”
Kartik studied her, tenderness softening his normally piercing eyes. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Shehnaaz stepped back slightly, uncomfortable with Kartik’s touch. She set the smoothie down and wrung her hands, “Professor Sen, was there anything else? If that’s all, please take me back. My guardian is waiting at home.”
“You had clearly wanted to ask something, so why don’t you ask me directly?” Kartik walked up to her, preventing her from backing away any further. “You’ve never suspected anything?”
“Suspect what?” Shehnaaz blinked up at him. “You are my professor and my mentor. You’re so kind to me, so why would I ask for trouble and suspect you?”
“You were suspicious about why Rashmi lived here, so why didn’t you ask?” Kartik’s expression tightened as he walked away and sat at the window bench in the kitchen. He looked up at her solemnly, his compressed lips
expressing his confusion.
Shehnaaz looked down and clenched her hands tighter, “Professor Sen, that has nothing to do with me. I don’t want to ask.”
Why Rashmi lived in his house was not her problem.
She was just his student, so why would she investigate his background?
“Nothing to do with you?” Kartik looked at Shehnaaz, stunned with disappointment. “It really doesn’t matter to you?”
“As long as you abide to your professional ethics and don’t abuse your power.” Shehnaaz finally looked up and spread her palms with a smile. She extended her slender right hand, the thumb and forefinger pinching together, “As your student, I don’t ask for much. I only have this little bit of
expectation for you.”
“Just this little bit?” Kartik laughed sadly. “Shehnaaz, ever so humble and selfless.”
“Yep, I’ve always been an excellent student and compassionate too.” Shehnaaz blushed as she boasted.
Kartik closed his eyes and rested his forehead on a hand. He crossed his leg, then remained motionless as he waved the other arm. “Go home. Find the driver at the garage and have him take you back.” He didn’t even look at her as he dismissed her.
Shehnaaz was hurt. Ah, he’s sending me away again, like last time. As though I were something unsightly and tiring.
She hated how he pulled her along at his pace, treating her gently but then humiliating her with his sudden displeasure with her. She didn’t understand, and she wanted to shout at him to stop treating her so crudely; she wanted answers.
But, who was she anyway? She wasn’t shameless enough to take advantage of his kindness. Shehnaaz bowed at Kartik properly. “Then I’ll be going. Goodbye, Professor Sen.”
She turned away, refusing to let him get to her.
Kartik looked up to see her retreating back and realized she had no intention of turning. His fists clenched as he called,"Sana!”
*
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I hope you enjoy reading it.
Love you all.