Chapter Four - Unexpected

Mr. Wadawasi wondered where Mr. Sinha was. Must be screwing around one of Devyani's women, though the grey haired host, with a slow shake of his head. He decided to let the matter go. His secretary's frantic looks showed him more pressing matters were on his hand.

The venerable Mr. Wadawasi was not far from wrong. Indeed, his assumption was absolutely correct. Mr. Sinha was being pleasured by three of Devyani's women, in a suite in the Taj - as Mr. Wadawasi turned to ask his secretary what the matter was.

The three women who had been chosen by Devyani to serve her oldest and richest client were exceptionally beautiful. There was Nameera, the new girl Devyani had entwined in her foul circle. Then there was Rosie, who was one of Devyani's most experienced women. And then there was Anjali. Devyani's prized possession, her top class girl. Strictly reserved for the quality clients, or new ones.

Anjali had come into town eight years ago, with nothing but thousand rupees in her pocket and extraordinarily beautiful looks. Having been unceremoniously thrown out of her house for having the ambition of being a model, she had come, with fierce pride, to prove her father wrong.

It was in this period of hurt that Devyani had found her, alone in a new city - trying to find a place to stay. To Anjali, Devyani was a god send, an answer to all her prayers. Having brought her home after soothing carresses and sympathetic nods, Devyani had proceeded to give her a glass of warm milk, and some hot food.

Anjali had woken up three days later, so strong had been the pill, in a new bed and no clothes. She had glanced down, her vision hazy and disoriented. The first thing she had noticed, when her vision had cleared was her blood, caked in between her thighs.

Eight years had been a long time, and now Anjali had no ambition to become a model. If these eight years had taught her one thing, it was that dreams were just another extension of hope. Something that would keep you alive, only so you could look at your face in the mirror, and spit at it.

* * *

Khushi suppressed a little smirk, as Akash slid into her car with an annoyed look at the car, at the nervous valet and at the world in general. After having extricated a promise to locate Akash's stolen car from Mr. Wadawasi, she had offered a ride back home, which he had accepted, after half a minute of... frowning.

The road, glowing an orange yellow under the fierce glare of the street lights, was dotted by a number of pedestrians and cars. Not enjoying the silence, Khushi switched on the radio, and smiled as the strains of the melody strummed out of the speaker.

Chand si mehbooba ho meri, kab aaisa maine socha tha
Haan tum bilkool waisi ho, jaisa maine socha tha
Chand si mehbooba ho meri, kab aaisa maine socha tha
Haan tum bilkool waisi ho, jaisa maine socha tha

 

Khushi closed her eyes as the song bought back happy memories. To Akash, she seemed just like moonlit beauty of the song.

* * *

There it stood, his pride and one of life's greatest joys, his Ferrari. The venerable Ferrari spider - sleek, black and powerful. A bit like himself, Arnav often said, with a laugh on his face. He was not wrong. He was after all... bastard Arnav Raizada.
 
The black colour reminded him of the colour of her dress. Black, silky and sensually erotic. The way it had carressed her curves, flaring out. Just enough to tease every man in that room. She had stayed true to the name she had given herself, and had stolen every man’s heart. Khushi Klepto Gupta. He rolled the name on the tip of his tongue. Not a very bad name, he thought.

Arnav sped away into the dark night, his thoughts solely foccused on Khushi Klepto Gupta and her swinging derriere.

 

* * *

 

The solid brown door was quietly opened by the stoic butler, as Khushi skipped in, unusually happy. There was no particular reason for the sudden euphoria, it was just there. She was welcomed home by with a goblet of wine in her father's hand and a benign smile. She carelessly handed her diamond clutch to the butler and faced her father with a smile.

 

"How bad was it?"

 

She chuckled lightly at that, her father knew her too well. "Boring. But I think I just earned us a higher profit scale"

 

"Atta girl"

 

After ten minutes of light banter, which included Khushi promising to make pancakes for him the next morning, her father strode off into the bedroom, to sleep. Khushi went to her room too, after staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace for a few minutes.

There was an odd restlessness in her. She threw open her window, and marvelled at the beauty of serenity the night air offered. Such a night, she thought, would be wasted away sleeping.

 

In accord to her decision, she grabbed her jeans and an old top. Reaching for her chappals, she stepped in front of the mirror to comb her hair into a high ponytail. After achieving the satisfactory result, she walked out of the house, telling the butler that she'd walk in through the kitchen entrance.

 

The beauty of the night could not be fully appreciated from the window, Khushi thought, while ambling aimlessly. This was a rare moment, a moment the paparazzi would have loved to capture. Where the lovely Ms. Gupta was out at night, only not inside a club.

Lost in her musings about what exactly the headlines would say if somebody found her out like this, Khushi never realised when she had ambled into the middle of the road. A sudden white light blinded her momentarily, and Khushi felt her heart race in fear as a rusty, second hand Maruti 800 approached her with breakneck speed. So scared was she, that she could not even feel the impact of the collision.

 

Khushi felt a sharp pain in her head, as she fell down. She felt the blood gush through her head. She could not feel her legs properly. There was a hollow ring in her ear. She fought the blackness off, refusing to find solace in the comfort it provided. Funny, she thought, in an attempt to keep her eyes open. Wasn't this when her life should flash before her eyes?

 

The last thing Khushi saw, before letting the black press around her comfortingly, was the face a pretty woman, asking her not to die.

A/N: hey guys, thanks for the patience and the wishes. Have my last exam tomorrow, but I still updated!

 

And this is dedicated to MsIPKKNDManic. She’s honestly a brick.

Chapter Three - The Bastard and The Klepto

 

A/N: There seems to be a misunderstanding. Akash is not discontent with his life. He was merely in a bad mood that particular day.

 

Chapter Three

 

If night had been a woman, today she would have made every man hit the cold shower, thought an unusually reflective Khushi. She was right - For it was a beautiful night. The stars seemed to twinkle with unusual vigour; the air... warm and summery felt fresh, the moon seemed a little less intimidating. It was a sultry night, seductive in her own sweet way.

 

The yellow orange Lamborghini cut its way through the light traffic with surreal ease. The tinted window was rolled down, letting the lovers of cars and the lovers of beauty ogle shamelessly. Khushi could hear the little girl in the auto tell her father how beautiful the didi in the orange car was. She could also hear the car-loving pedestrian mumble about her car’s many virtues in a voice a devotee usually reserved for God.

 

Dressed in a stunning black gown and her hair in a sophisticated chignon, Khushi looked a like a worthy rival to the beautiful night. Her sharp, hazel green eyes shone brightly and her face, in the moonlight, looked beautiful. Normally, Khushi’s beauty made the prettiest of women look ugly, today its radiance beautified everybody it fell on. Khushi smiled affectionately at her right leg peeking out of the daring side split, right down to her red ice pick heels. Traffic was light, the night was young and Khushi felt, and rightly so, beautiful. Oh yes, somebody was very happy.

 

Ten minutes later, she parked sharply outside the venue, and put her right leg, with its ice pick red heel, out.

 

It was this vision of perfection which greeted Akash as waited for a fashionably late Khushi to make an appearance. A beautiful sports car halting smoothly, and a fair, healthy leg stepping out of it. The first thing Akash noticed how shapely that leg was. Beautifully toned, like the legs of a dancer. The second thing he noticed was a small scar on the thigh. An ordinary man would not have noticed it, but Akash, famous for his ability to read deal papers upside down, zeroed in on the slight beige line marring the otherwise smooth leg. A stickler for details, our Akash was. You had to be one when you were Shashi Gupta’s right hand man.

 

The body which followed the rest of the leg was equally beautiful. Akash felt something squirm in him, like a hot prickly sensation envelope him when Khushi stepped out of the car. The first thing he noticed was her firm and ample cleavage, cleverly playing peek-a-boo underneath the halter. His eye slid down from her cleavage to her tiny waist, right down to the bold leg, in its red shoes standing out. Out of all the letter bombs, with the dominatrix syndrome in them, Khushi had to be the most beautiful one.

 

“If you’re done wondering if I’m the same girl who was caught driving drunk with vomit stains on her dress... may we proceed?”

 

Akash felt himself flush. He was lucky it wasn’t too light outside. Nevertheless, he offered his arm to Khushi and felt oddly happy when he felt her light arm place on his. They linked hands and walked towards the doorman, who studied their invite and let them in quietly. Suddenly, as they stepped inside, Akash felt this strange whim, which alternated between kissing her senseless, dancing with her and giving her a slap. He began to wonder if Khushi was a witch.  

 

* * *

 

It had been two hours since Akash and she had stepped in. She had promptly disentangled himself, and had left off to strike a conversation with a few business associates, instructing with soft nod, for Akash to do the same. The party had been what a business party usually is- Women pretending to enjoy the wine, when they clearly could not differentiate between Pepsi and Coke, men alternating between business talk and eyeing for the next potential mistress. Khushi was, if truth was to be told, bored out of her mind. She had done the needful. She had complimented the women generously. Just a silent bargain between their husbands and her. It was a simple deal. She shower love on their wives, they shower their love on the deals.

 

She delicately raised the silver goblet to her red lips. 1884, the waiter had boasted, before plying her with the wine. She looked around, searching for Akash. Just another hour, and they’d go.

 

“Ah, Ms. Gupta?”

 

She whirled around then, surprised to hear a young masculine voice in this party. She had not known there would be anyone here except her and Akash, who was the other way, deeply absorbed in conversation with the Mehra twins.

 

“Mr. Raizada? What are you doing here?”

 

“Me?” he replied with a smile. “I’m here to find out a way to ruin the Gupta Empire”

 

She smiled at the cleverly veiled challenge.

 

“Good luck with that Mr. Raizada. I’d love to see how you get rid of your... obstacles”

 

“I’m sure I can figure out a way”

 

“I wager you won’t”

 

The score, being tallied in both their heads, now read 2 all.

 

Arnav stepped next to her then, aware of the gossip the single step had stirred up. He stuck out in the sea of old, spotty men. A manly six feet tall with broad shoulders, his nut brown complexion glittering under the chandelier, he stood there- the tall, dark and handsome next to Khushi, waiting for her to initiate conversation.

 

“I heard about your father’s new girlfriend, Mr. Raizada. Congratulations. This would be your... fourth potential step mother?

 

“Oh no, Ms. Gupta. It would actually be the fourth woman walking into my room naked, begging me to have sex with her. Yes, I’m the bastard who steals his father’s women”

 

Akash approached them then, saying it was time to go home. Khushi smiled at him, and asked him to go ahead. Then she turned around to Arnav and smirked.

 

“And I’m the klepto who steals her father’s man”

 

Khushi swayed away then, aware that Arnav’s eyes were on her swinging derriere. Arnav raked a hand through his hair, and picked up some smoked salmon from the blushing waitress, who had approached him with a hopeful look in her eyes. He smiled and showed his appreciation to Mr. Wadawasi, who seeked him out to ask if he was enjoying the party.

 

The final score read four all.

Chapter Two - All that glitters...

Payal looked around her little cafe with a deep sense of satisfaction. It had not been a good day; in fact, Govindan had sent his men in twice, asking for the money. The customers had been unusually cranky and she had spilt coffee on herself.

 

It was not a beautiful cafe, the one Payal had. The occasional white plastic chairs were an odd contrast to the polished black furniture. The black furniture had been a gift from Mrs. Sharma, after she had gone weary of them. The missing black furniture had been given to Govindan, who had liked the look of the shiny straight backed metal chair. In its place stood the odd white plastic chair, salvaged from the lane behind, where people dumped old furniture. The walls were yellow and mouldy, for Payal did not have the resources to give it a touch of paint. No kind patron had paint to spare, so that was the way they would stay, unless God did exist and all her debts would pay themselves naturally. The cafe was a mess of food stains and muddy shoes, the after-effects of another busy day. The saving grace of Payal’s little cafe was the food, and her secret ingredient.

 

Her secret ingredient was a joke she shared with her regular patrons. The ones who could see beyond the almost-in-ruins cafe, to enjoy the food. Just a pinch of my secret ingredient, Mr. Das! 

 

Yes times were tough. They were bound to be if you haven’t studied beyond twelfth, and did not have the educational qualifications companies were looking for. Times were indeed tough. But; Payal thought, reaching for a bucket of water and the mop, atleast she was happy.

 

* * *

 

Akash was not a happy man. It had nothing to do with his job or his bosses. His wages were wonderful, his boss was kind, the clients had not been too demanding today and Tracy had finally understood how to make his coffee. But he was not happy. It was just the day. Gotten off from the wrong side of the bed, nothing seemed to please Akash today. It was in this cranky mood that Akash walked into his boss’s room. His life had been a dream sailing. Born to rich parents, educated at Harvard, good looking and very intelligent; Akash was what every mother wanted her daughter married to. Oh yes, dream sailing indeed.

 

Akash knocked, and was welcomed in jovially. He walked inside and for the first time, felt a little better. Shashi Gupta, the ferocious master of the entire Gupta Industries, was no more than a second father to Akash. Wise, always ready with advice on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, Shashi Gupta had made his empire from the very scratch. They had set well immediately, Akash’s incorrigibly truthful tongue and Shashi’s incorrigibly truth-loving ears. Between them, there were no pretences. Just two men who were friends.

 

“Akash” said the old man, not looking up from his laptop, “I need you to go to the Shah’s party tonight. We’re about to merge the deal, now will be a nice time to butter them up. The part is couples only, you will need a partner. Take Khushi with you, she needs to be there representing me”

 

Akash personally had never liked Khushi Gupta. The woman had been born with a bottle of beer in her hand, and music in here ears. When she was not out partying, she was inside the board-rooms, bankrupting MNC’s and proving her worth as the next big thing in the business world. He respected her for her natural talent, cut-throat deal making ability and sharp mind, but he disliked her for her vanity and hey-man ways. Unlike her father, who would talk straight to you on the face, Khushi Gupta was a letter-bomb waiting to be opened. Nobody would know when she decided to burst upon you, until she actually did. And when she did burst upon you, you would either die trying or would try dying.

 

“That deal, Akash, is gold” said Shashi, cutting into Akash’s thoughts.

 

“All that glitters is not gold, Sir”

 

“Akash my boy” said Shashi, suddenly smiling a little too kindly “All that glitters is gold. You just need to find out which one is the real thing, and which one is just gold plated”

 

A classic example of the wisdom Shashi spouted. Akash nodded softly, and walked out of the cabin.

Chapter One - The Climber of the Ladder

"Scotch. Neat"

Arnav surveyed the pumping music, and pulsating long legs, and the vibgyor stilettos with an indifferent air, smirking as the server tried to discreetly pull the halter up her cleavage, while trying to take orders. He glanced at brown hand fidgeting with the hem of the neckline, and raised an eyebrow. 32B. Not his type. Maybe later, when he'd be chugging the celebration liquor now. Champagne. No less. Two months after having to deal with the bas***ds, he'd enjoy telling them that now they had nothing. So they could take the tips on sex and sell them. An attempt at getting breakfast. Or maybe they could publish a book. One Hundred Ways to ensure Arnav Singh Raizada bankrupts you after two months. He smiled slightly. That would certainly sell. Not. He'd make sure of that. Two months of scouring the files with a fine-tooth comb. Trying to find one little slip. And he found it. And one thing led to another, and here he was, planning whether he would screw the server, the leggy brunette who slipped her number into his salted peanuts, or both.

Arnav coughed and bought their attention back to him. And he watched the self-satisfied smile slide off their faces, Like the Dulux paints advertisement. When the mother removes the stains on the wall with a single swipe of the pink cloth; as he told them that he was really sorry, but they may have to prop their Armani's on sticks and stay underneath it- on the sidewalks of BRT. Armani on sticks? Maybe not that bad, he amended inwardly. But he could have his fun, couldn't he? He watched with a bemused air, as the Mehra twins turned precisely the same shade of pale puce. Or maybe it was the lights. He didn't know. Neither did he care. Two months of putting a blind eye on their malpractices, because AR really needed the support, he could finally have his own back. He watched them frantically call their men, pushing the legs encased in blood red stilettos sprawled on their laps, enjoying each and every second of it.

He personally had no issues with the Mehra Industries. Akram Mehra and he had an unspoken understanding that would not stick their noses into each others' turf. But then, the old man had passed away, and the twins took over. The twins. He thought in a bout of suppressed rage. How he hated them. Overbearing, sly, mother-f**king fools. He was sure that the twins had something to do with the recent string of events, which led AR to collaborate with them, at very low profit rates. Now, Arnav thought, with grim satisfaction. They'd know. That they couldn't mess with two things. Laws of nature, and him. He watched, with grim satisfaction, their shoulders slump, as they realised that it really was over. He paid the bill, well aware of the slap he had bestowed on their cheeks, and stood up sedately

Arnav Singh Raizada made it a point to swing his arms as he walked out of the room, and pick the goblet of champagne the twins had expressly ordered for themselves, before looking back at them and allowing a corner of his mouth to turn upward.

* * *

Khushi Kumari Gupta was not by any means, an ordinary person. For one, a man had his lips glued to her neck, and all she could think of was her dress. You see, her dress was vintage Chanel - won't do to have wine spilt over it. "Get me a drink, darling" she asked the man, smirking slightly as the man nodded softly and walked off. Nobody could resist Khushi Kumari Gupta's charm - that was for sure. She actually liked this person, it was a pity he had to go. He was... boring.

Khushi Gupta wanted a challenge. Khushi Gupta wanted a man.

The daughter and sole heiress to the Gupta empire deserved no less.

She walked away, her legs so much like the ones our Arnav Singh Raizada had surveyed and smirked. She walked forward into the crowd, ready to be a part of it all. Did all these inebriated fools know who was amongst them? Khushi wondered. Of course they didn't. She was a part of the crowd, and yet she was apart, airily waving the poor man with her drink away. No wonder Arnav Singh Raizada, now seated with his celebratory champagne had noticed her and smirked.

Arnav Singh Raizada had seen his fair share of women, and yes, Khushi Gupta wasextraordinarily beautiful, but it was not that which had drawn his attention to our carelessly dancing Khushi, headstrong and beautiful, but it was the fact that he had recognised her.

For months now Arnav Singh Raizada had wondered how to shake up the very core of the Gupta Empire, after having lost Wadawasi deal to them. It now looked like he had found a way.