|A U T H O R|
The fancy eve night, just hours before the clock strikes 12, heralding a new year, the symbolic flipping of the calendar page. Ironically, it marks turning a fresh page in our lives, a promise to leave the past year behind.
However, promise is meant to be broken.
Under the shimmering starry night, unfolded an exquisite meeting filled with sophistication. The cold chilly wind of winter held he tune escaped from the strings of the violin, mixing with the crystal champagne flutes. The usual accent had a shift of superiority, a dress wore by the people to keep themselves as one of the crowds. Kiraz runs her eyes at every corner, at every masked face of fake laughter.
Straightening her posture, with a breath leaving her mouth Kiraz makes her way inside. The snobbish party, the flashing diamonds, with the smell of cuisine, the flimsy light up, brought a stingy nostalgia. Like, the one we get, when we re-visit the place, we abandoned. We stand there but nothing seems same. Somebody other than us, would have acquired that place, making their own memories.
Same thing happened with her. The place was foreign but the glittery feeling was familiar. The place was new, faces changed, unknown. Yet, a lingering familiarity of that emotion stayed high. Memories of her last celebration in Rathore mansion made its presence.
His birthday. Even though, the large royal mansion witnessed many parties after his birthday. But that particular day, meant to much for her to be forgot. The night she gave herself to him. Completely.
Had he not been a mafia, she wouldn't have celebrated the upcoming year separated from each other. Rather with their son.
Wish he was not what he was. Or wish she had just forgotten that what he was.
She makes her presence inside, with a final wave of bye at Kabir. It was completely professional obligation from her side and she must settle herself in it. Blowing a breath, curving her lips she dialed her PA's numbers. The soft music played by the orchestras helped her in calming down herself a bit. When a familiar face caught her site, she blows out her suspended breath.
Pretti dressed in formals, asks her, "When did you came?"
"Ten minutes ago." Kiraz roams her head, as she asks further, "Is everything going alright?"
"Yes," Pretti passes her a reassuring smile.
They made their way towards the catering area, passing the large stage adorned with couples lost in the romantic dance of deep affection. Her lips involuntarily twist, though she manages to conceal the bitterness that stirs within her. The sight of couples always leaves a bitter taste in her heart.
Reyansh, on the other hand, experiences a different ache. When he gazes at couples passing by or witnesses their intimate moments, he wishes he hadn't fallen in love. The pain mirrors what he's feeling now. Standing on the terrace top of Miller's, he observes a couple wrapped in the warmth of their embrace, shielding themselves from the cold. The music holds their world together.
Eyes darker than the night, nearly black and devoid of emotion, survey the surroundings.
The fancy setting seems peaceful, a world about to be disrupted by impending havoc. After all, when did a King of hell bring harmony? If he had, he wouldn't be a king in the first place. Everything demands its price.
Turning halfway, something grabs his attention—someone, a girl dressed in white. The distance is substantial, offering only a glimpse of her face. Yet, his dark eyes fixate on her. Her red hair induces a sudden pounding in his heart, starving his lungs.
He blinks. She dislikes white; he reminds himself, ignoring his gut feeling. He will definitely be tearing her in piece if she dares to come in a place like this. Where humans disguised in wolves ready to pounce upon you, sat themselves on the glamour seat. Just then, his earpiece echoes with the voice of his brother.
"Is everyone in their position?" his earpiece ranged.
"Yes," he says, accompanied by Tavir's and Vedant's voice.
Vedant restrained a smirk as he reached the third floor, balancing a tray of drinks while curling his fingers behind his back. With a ribbon tie and a fitted undercoat, he approached the guards standing in line at the corridor's entrance.
His steps echoed in the silent corridor, drawing the attention of the two guards.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" The burly guard shoved Vedant roughly by the collar, and from the distinct features, Vedant guessed he was not from India—a foreigner initiating the conversation in oddly twisted English.
Vedant softened his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows to express distress. In the next moment, a gun was pressed against his throat.
"I asked you, what are you doing here?" the guard rasped.
"Sir," Vedant addressed him, noticing a hint of smugness restrained on the guard's face. He continued, "I am sorry. I just brought the drinks on the boss's order. Forgive me."
"What drinks?" The guard's eyes burned into Vedant's face.
"Sir, these." Vedant gestured towards the balanced tray, evidencing his shivering as liquid threatened to spill from the flute glass.
"Which boss?" the guard demanded.
"Sir, Zubaid Miller. He wanted to give these as a token of appreciation to his hardworking guards."
The guard shared a look with his other mate. "You drink first."
Vedant groans internally, cursing the guard for his lack of perception. He puts on a nervous smile, "Sir, I'm just a lowly worker here. Tasting the drink meant for a high-ranking guard like yourself would be disrespectful on my part. Boss specifically instructed me to serve you, not partake in it myself. If he were to find out, I'd lose my job. I have three small children waiting for me at home; I need to take care of my family. Please, high lord." He fakes a whimper.
The guards' eyes show empathy for the struggling worker, understanding the challenges of being away from their own children in their home country. One of them places a hand on Vedant's shoulder, patting it, "Okay, brother, we understand. You can go. We'll handle this."
Panic flashes across Vedant's face as he instinctively tightens his grip on the tray. "I can serve the others."
"No, you can't go to the other side. It's not open for a small boy like you. I'll pass the drinks. Now, hush from here."
His ego stung by being referred to as a "small boy," Vedant considers the situation. Showing desperation might arouse suspicion, so he puts on a clipped smile and fakes a breath of relief, "Thank you, big brother." He bows and moves away. Glancing over his shoulder, a content smile plays on his lips as he observes the guards drinking from the glasses. At least, he ensured the two of them consumed the juice.
On the other side, of the mansion Tavir became the shadow of Zubaid. Sticking by his side and leaving his side only when the bastard takes one of the women in the room. Whether married or unmarried, underage or older, for Zubaid it held no difference. Tavir holds back a countenance of disgust as Zubaid Miller emerged from the room, hitching his blazer.
"How was it, Lord?" Tavir feigns a smirk, looking at him with a suggestive eye.
"Average," Zubaid says vaguely, adding, "Do you want to try her."
Tavir smiles, "I will have to deny this opportunity. I must stay by your side."
A mirth danced on Zubaid face, as he slaps his palm on Tavir's face, lightly. Making Tavir dance in the urge of taking a bath in detergent. "Protective dog. I like it."
Just then his PA comes running towards them, whispering in Zubaid ears, making Tavir discreetly lean his ears, "Boss everyone is asking for you."
"Let's go then." With that Zubaid walked ahead, followed by Tavir and the PA.
Kiraz secured herself a table in the corner, away from the public eye. She engaged in forced conversations, shaking hands and receiving a couple of strained smiles. None of it felt genuine. After spending five minutes awkwardly navigating through the crowd and turning down a couple of perverts, she settled at the far end. From there, she observed like a watcher, deciphering the actions of the people around her.
It was easy to identify the greedy eyes, hungry for power, attempting to blend into the crowd's color to avoid standing out. People despise being away from the crowd, detest walking alone, and life often pushes us to confront what we hate the most.
Resting her knees on the ground, Kiraz placed the now-empty glass on the table. The party lacked excitement for her, feeling plain and boring. She sensed fragility, like a porcelain doll ready to crumble with the slightest movement.
Her finger traced the pattern on the glass, lost in the background music. Shifting slightly, a discomfort in her lower belly made itself known. She had wanted to use the restroom for the past fifteen minutes but resisted. Roaming in an unfamiliar place where people indulged in harm didn't appeal to her. Being in public provided a sense of reassurance. Others turned a blind eye to the looming dark shadow engulfing the place, but she observed it from a distance, knowing she was not part of that shadow.
The building pressure in her bladder reached a painful peak, sending vibrating waves through her abdomen. Kiraz pressed her knees together, attempting to alleviate the discomfort, but it proved futile. Rising on her quivering legs, she pressed her lips together to suppress a wince, asking a waiter for the restroom's location. The waiter mutely pointed toward the mansion.
The pain escalated, making it challenging for her to walk properly. She regretfully blinked her eyes; she shouldn't have held back.
"Ma'am, you can't go inside," a guard stopped her, stretching his hand to block her.
"I have to use the restroom."
"Still, you can't."
"Then where is another one?" she demanded.
"There is none."
"Should I go behind the bushes to empty my bladder?" Kiraz gritted out, crossing her legs. Wincing as the pressure became unbearable, she blew a breath and attempted to speak in a softer tone, persuading, "Look, I really need to use the restroom," another jolt of pain hit her, "my condition is worsening. Let me go."
"Okay. Just use the—" She didn't hear his words as she dashed towards the indicated direction. With hurried steps, she rushed down the corridor toward the bathroom. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, but it remained steadfast. A loud thud against the door sent her staggering back on her feet.
Her fingers move to cover her mouth to refrain herself from screaming. With hold breath and ignoring the pressure of her bladder, she leans her ears on the door, when a moan pricks her sensitive ears. She pulls back herself, a coat of disgust crawling her expression.
"There must be fifty rooms in this mansion yet people want to have sex in washroom. At the exact moment when of all the places of the world I desire for a washroom. God!"
Running hot on her tail, Kiraz found no open rooms. She reached a large staircase connecting the second and third floors, glancing back to ensure no one followed. Assured of solitude, she dashed up the staircase, clutching her gown, careful not to trip.
Fleetingly checking each doorknob as she ran, she found all locked except for one at the end of the hallway. Opening the door ajar, she closed it behind her, not bothering to switch on the light. Following the outline of an attached door illuminated by outside light, she entered the bathroom.
Turning on all the buttons, she bunched her dress in her arms and seated herself on the toilet seat, releasing the tension in her bladder. The relief washed over her, almost causing her to close her eyes in contentment. Once done, she washed herself and fixed her makeup, applying a stroke of lipstick to her red lips.
"Uh, it feels so good." Her voice echoed in the silent dark room. In one moment, she stood in her place, and the next, a rough hand grabbed her forearms, slamming her back against the wall.
Her mouth opens to let out a groan of pain, however a gloved hand clasped against her mouth, almost covering her nose. The smell of leather provident, as she tears open her eyes. The urge of thrashing, using her fist, kneeling the sturdy figure on knees remains high, perhaps whoever holds her in the death gripping hold, knows what they are doing and how. From the pressure on her mouth, she can tell that the person can use more pressure than this, yet the dark figuring holds themself back.
She wants to yelp, a fear griping her whole.
"Shh, it's me," a low imposing murmur, tolls in her sensitive ears. Her body freezes hearing a familiar voice, as she blinks her eyes, to focus on the sturdy figure, who evolved itself in the darkness so well that it's becoming hard for her not to believe that she was pinned on the wall by an invisible force. She shakes her head, thinking her brain was playing games with her.
Before she could utter with her muffled mouth, the sound of the door creaking echoes in the dusky room. Slowly, as by the passing of a minute, racing her already panic heart. She wasn't sure to whom call for help. From the person who pinned her down on the wall, whose voice was awfully familiar to Reyansh or the one who came in from the door.
"Don't make a noise." The sturdy silhouette warns her, pressing his hard chest on her. His finger skims down on the curve of her waist, resting on her hip-bone. She nods lightly, in the fear of pissing him, and throwing herself in death point. Not like she was any safer, still she was breathing.
The proximity, and the hot breath of his fanned over her forehead, making her gulp for air, trying to parch her throat.
From the corner of her eye, she could make out, the circle white patch roaming on the wall, as the bearer of the torch turned it in every corner of the room. They were hiding beside a large cupboard, which hide their body in the dark, protecting them from the flashing light.
"Who is there?" a shaky voice echoes, voicing out the same lingering question in Kiraz's mind, which she was unable to due to the body pressing on her.
"Come out, in this instant."
"Like hell," a flash of light falls on the opposite wall, giving enough light for Kiraz to see the face of the man who felt familiar in touch with her husband. Her dark brown eyes meet the darker shade of hers. The one she dies upon, the one haunting her since past five years, the one who had drowned her in a way that she found herself in a universe.
All that Reyansh wished was for a forgive of a moment from the super-power, removing all the difference, all the grudges they hold against each other, taking away all the memories, and making him see in her eyes like he is watching them for the first.
They shared a glance full of unfolded stories whispered in the language of shared silence.
"I don't think there is anyone." Their gaze breaks as a low mumble of words resonated in the room, with the door closing behind shortly.
"You promise to not scream," his voice coming hard. Shivers runs down her spine, as she stood all alone in the embrace of a men from whom she was hiding, who gave her three chances and if caught what is gonna happen? Was all that remained as a question.
She nods her head vigorously, making Reyansh to lower his hands hesitantly, as though making sure that she doesn't screams out. His breath was harsh, making his chest touch with the swell of her breast. The softness pressed against harshness.
His gloved fingers sink down from her mouth to her neck as they cup her bare neck, fingers disappearing in her red. His touch was cold, and all she wished was the feel of his bare fingers.
"What are you doing here?" his voice was harsh. Kiraz unwantedly bringing herself from the distraction of his fingers, which danced on her skin, she meets his hard glare.
"Why?" her voice was low, "I mean, why you ask?"
"Just answer my question."
Answering him meant, telling a part of herself which she couldn't afford. "No," was all she can manage to say because one sentence out of her mouth and he would be fast enough to catch her lie. Instead of lying she preferred a no.
Reyansh blows a breath, to calm himself down. He had always needed an immense amount of patience to talk to her. But neither the situation nor the time demanded his patience. He banged his fist right beside her ears in an attempt to scare her. And, so she did but was fast enough to recover herself.
"I'm entertaining you for a reason, which definitely doesn't involve anything related to our past. And, I'll be taking answer for my question either by hook or crook, because until and unless you tell me, I am not letting you go. Hence, cut both of us some slacks and tell me the reason you are here for?" he growls in low voice, sounding pissed.
"If I am answering, you are also answering your reason for being here." She shots back, a poor attempt of framing him in his own question.
"Do you make a deal." He whispers calmly, making shivers runs down her spine. A devil always blesses his presence in calmness.
With a shaky breath, she seals of her deal, "Deal."
A glint so dark and secretive courses through his eyes, with a smirk dancing on his red lips. He leans closer, pushing back a strand of her hair, his breath blowing over her earlobe.
"Sure," he paused, knowing well that he made her hitch her breath, "I am here to do something big."
He pulls himself back, "Now your turn." Leaving behind a strange coldness to her.
She presses her lips, knowing his woven tale of mystic shadow, cursing herself to fall in the trap. "I came here with a friend of mine. She was invited so I tagged along with her." With her words ending she breaks her gaze with him, making him see straight through her lies.
"For drug?" he raised his bro.
She blinks her eyes, her body going in a panic for getting misinterpret, "No."
"And, why are you getting so interested in me?"
He scoffs as the answer of her question, "I have a knack for catching interest in silent things. You know experience speaks here I've known to be aware of silent things."
His taunt was clear to her, but she was definitely not going to take it, "Then you are searching for wrong here. Because I am no more the silent person who will seat and listen to some bed night, dressed in lies, stories."
She pushed him on his shoulder, seeing him distracted for a moment. She walks past him. However, in a second, her arms were yanked back with a gun pressed on her forehead.
He will definitely not allow her to go in the land full of wild wolves. On top, he will love to keep the sweet little prey exclusively for himself.
She is his even to hurt. Nobody dares to do, beside him, even herself.
••~•~•~•~••
Uhh, a clap for those all who guessed it right i.e; Reyansh was pointing the gun at Kiraz.
If you want, to read ahead the chapters are available in scrollstack.
Hope you are all loving it so far. Brace yourself for lots of drama ahead.
Do vote and comment down your words. I love to hear from your side. It really makes my day.
And if you all get me 200 votes, I will be updating early morning on Thursday, or else at 6pm like I do.
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Published: 15 Jan, 2023.