Beneath The Lies

by Sapna Bhog

  “Well, this is something more for me than you. Go ahead, open it.”

  She unwraps the present, tearing at its bindings. Her eyebrows rise as she fingers the brand name written on the box. She opens the box, moving the soft tissue wrapping aside and grins.

  “You got me a Louis Vuitton shawl in full black! It is gorgeous and I love it.”

  She wraps the shawl around herself, playing with the soft silk folds.

  She tilts her head to me. “You didn’t need to…”

  “Oh, I had to. I want to make love to you with this tied around your hands.”

  Her cheeks tinge with crimson and I know she’s remembering that night in Scotland when I had bound her wrists with the same red shawl she owns.

  “Tonight?” I ask, with a raised brow.

  She holds my face in her hands and plants a kiss on my cheek, rubbing the lipstick mark from my face.

  “So, I want to tell you something,” she begins as soon as the waitress hands us our drinks.

  Before I can reply, I hear my name being called.

  “Damien…” I swivel to see my mother and Celia standing in front of us.

  “Mother, Celia, what are you doing here?” I ask, standing up.

  Celia doesn’t even look at Aaliya as she approaches me. “Hello Damien,” she gives me a broad smile and a hug. Aaliya’s eyes flash and her lips flatten as Celia presses herself into me. I release Celia and take a step back to greet my mother.

  “Damien,” my mother gushes.

  She leans forward giving me her cheek and I place a perfunctory kiss on it. No matter that she’s ignored me for most of my life, she will do anything to maintain appearances.

  She places a hand on my arm. “We have a reservation here for dinner, but now that you’re here we might as well dine together. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”

  And before I can form a reply, she summons a server and gives him instructions to place two more settings on the table, completely ignoring the fact that Aaliya and I had plans of our own, which definitely did not include them. Celia takes a seat opposite me and I’m convinced she has someone spying on me. This is the first time I’ve taken Aaliya out and somehow Celia is here.

  My foot taps irritably under the table and Aaliya puts her hand on my thigh, gently squeezing it. We exchange a glance and she gives me a warm smile and a reassuring nod. And this silent conversation that occurs so naturally between the two of us is one of the reasons I’m falling for this woman. She has filled my life with warmth, laughter and happiness. But I can’t dwell on any of that right now as my mother and Celia sit in front of us and stare down at Aaliya.

  “Mother, you met Aaliya at the charity auction.”

  “Did I?” My mother turns her nose up in the air. “I don’t remember.” She turns her face away, dismissing Aaliya. She allows the waiter to put a napkin on her lap and calls for some white wine for both Celia and herself. My fists clench at her cold behavior.

  “Miss Singh,” Celia sneers. “You’re still in London? I thought you’d have left by now.”

  “Oh! Why would I want to leave?” Aaliya gives Celia a sweet smile and then turns to me, cupping my cheek. “I have what I want right over here beside me.”

  Her bold eyes sparkle with a mischievous slant. It makes me smile and also, deep down I’m proud of her because she’s capable of looking out for herself. I slide my cheek against her hand and kiss the center of her palm.

  Aaliya

  And once again Celia Parker is trying to ruin a perfectly fine night. The Duchess and she exchange a look after Damien and my display. They, however, choose to ignore us and immediately dive into the menu card in front of them.

  The Duchess flicks her finger and a server rushes towards her.

  “Call the chef. Tell him the Duchess of Kittridge is here,” she instructs in a haughty voice.

  We all sit in awkward silence until the chef shows up and speaks to her in French. She converses with him easily and points several times at the menu. The chef addresses Damien, once again in French, and I have to literally force myself to remain calm and not exhibit any shock when I hear him reply in smooth and flawless French. My mind scrambles in disbelief because in five years of living with him, I didn’t know he could speak another language.

  I turn away from them and my eyes clash with Celia. She gives me a disdainful look before turning away from me. She inserts herself into the conversation, her own French sounding perfect while I sit beside the three of them unable to follow a single word they are saying.

  The chef turns to me and says something I don’t follow. I smile at him and shake my head, but before I can say anything Celia interjects, “Miguel is asking what you would like to eat? I could help you translate,” she says in a condescending voice.

  “Thank you, Celia,” I turn to the chef. “Apologies I don’t speak French but I’m sure you must speak English.”

  “Of course, Madame,” he replies with a pronounced accent. “What would Madame like to eat?”

  I discuss my options with him and finally choose a grilled fish with vegetables on the side.

  Damien addresses him once more. They both turn to me as they speak. I give Damien a confused look and he smiles at me before continuing to converse with the chef. The chef bobs his head in my direction and Damien laughs at something the chef says. He grasps my hand nodding his head while the Duchess and Celia look at me, sour expressions stamped on their faces.

  “What was that about?” I question Damien once Miguel leaves.

  “I told him you have a sweet tooth and you’d love the crème caramel they serve here. Miguel was delighted and hoped that you enjoy his preparations. And he also said that you’re quite beautiful, to which I wholly agreed with him.”

  I beam at Damien and he brushes a strand of hair from my face.

  “Damien,” the Duchess calls out, drawing his attention, “I’ve heard you missed out on all the social events in the last weeks. I had specifically sent the social calendar to your assistant marking all the ones that were a must to attend. Did you not receive it?”

  “Joan gave me the calendar. I chose not to go,” he replies.

  “You have to attend, Damien,” she persists. “You’re the Duke now and you have a duty to your title. Everyone expects you to participate in the social scene. Besides, David was a darling at the social circuits; you have to live up to his legacy.”

  His mother is truly awful! She has treated Damien dreadfully all his growing years, ignored him the rest and now she is trying to compare him to his dead brother whom she knows for sure Damien abhorred.

  Ignoring her, I concentrate on Damien. A deep groove mars his forehead and his fist is curled tightly around his whiskey glass. I place my hand on top of his and his hold on the glass loosens.

  He sighs before he speaks. “First of all, I’m not David. I’ll never be like him, ever. It’s best you remember that, Mother. Besides, aren’t you the one who taught David that a Duke can get away with anything? Well, since I’m the Duke now, I daresay I can and will get away with doing whatever I want.”

  The Duchess goes red in the face and takes a sip of her wine.

  “Damien, don’t be impolite,” Celia chides. “You’re upsetting your mother.”

  The Duchess turns to her. “Leave it, Celia. Damien neither understood nor cared about me ever. That responsibility always fell to David. Expecting more from my other son is futile.”

  My heart aches something fierce for Damien. His mother has no qualms about belittling him even now. How can she, a mother, be so cruel? Were his father and brother as bad as her? Or were they worse? My gut says it was the latter. Has he grown up dodging insults from his family all the time? Is that why he chose to walk away from it all?

  Without much thought, words spill out of my mouth. “It’s high time you accept that David is gone and Damien’s still here. Maybe a little compassion on your part for what he’s gone through wouldn’t be remiss.”

  There is a
pin drop silence on the table after my statement. I don’t know whether I’ve shocked myself more or the three of them with my sudden and unexpected outburst. But now that the words are out, I’m glad I spoke up because his mother needed to be told off.

  “How dare you?” The Duchess sputters in outrage. “You have no right to interfere in matters that do not concern you in any way.”

  “Well, you’re probably right about that. I should not have interfered. But it had to be said,” I tell her calmly.

  Her face darkens at my words and her lips thin into a straight line. “You, girl, are nothing, but common. Damien does his family a huge disservice by cavorting with the likes of you.”

  “She is anything but common,” Damien retaliates sharply. “Don’t insult her, Mother. While I’m quite used to your acidic barbs, one word against her and I will cut you off from my life, privately and publicly.”

  Both the women look like they’ve swallowed something vile. They exchange a glance at one another and then stare at Damien. He returns their stare, calmly sipping his whiskey.

  I’m sick of this air of contempt and general disregard that these two women have brought to our evening. Here I was, hoping to tell Damien the truth about our relationship, our marriage and our child. Instead, I’ve had to listen to his mother insulting him and declaring how I’m wrong for him.

  I place my napkin on the table. “Please excuse me, I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

  Damien gives me a nod of acknowledgement as I stand while the two women stare daggers at me. I give them a challenging glare in return. I lean into Damien, capturing his face with my hands and brush my lips against his.

  He’s mine. They better get used to it because I’m not going anywhere. With that petty but feel good display, I give myself a mental high five and amble to the ladies’ room with a bounce in my step.

  Celia is waiting by the mirrors in the lavish restroom as soon as I step out of the small cubicle. I ignore her as I wash my hands and reapply my lipstick.

  She comes to stand by my side and powders her nose. “He will never be yours.”

  I make one more swipe of the dark berry red lipstick on my lips and rub my lips together. I look at her through the mirror. “That is where you are mistaken, Celia. He’s already mine.”

  “I did not give you leave to call me by my name. It is Lady Celia to you.”

  I roll my eyes and huff out an exaggerated breath. Celia doesn’t intimidate me in the least. I’ve studied in a boarding school and I’ve dealt with girls nastier than her. I make a show of running my hands through my hair and turning my head from side to side, preening in the mirror, deliberately ignoring her.

  She takes an agitated step forward. “How much money will it take to get you out of his life?”

  A laugh escapes my lips. “Seriously? The money bribe! How clichéd!”

  “Everyone has a price,” Celia throws at me. “You may rest assured I can arrange whatever number you ask. So, name your price to leave Damien alone.”

  I turn to face her and lean against the counter folding my arms in front of me, a cool expression plastered on my face that no way shows the rage blazing inside me. “Um Celia…why don’t you think of a good enough number?”

  She smiles in glee, staring ahead into the distance.

  “So, you have a number?” I ask after a moment.

  “Yes!”

  “Very well. Now double it.”

  “Okay,” she curves her lips, her smile pure evil.

  “Now multiply that by ten.”

  Her eyes narrow into sharp slits. She opens her mouth to say something, but I stop her with a flick of my hand.

  “Now that, Lady Celia, is the amount of money I’m willing to offer you to keep your disgusting hands and eyes off Damien. Don’t assume I’m poor just because I don’t have the same skin color as you. You may remember the names of your last five or ten ancestors, but that doesn’t make you better than me. He is mine. He’ll always be mine. And you better remember that.”

  With that parting shot, I leave the ladies’ room with Celia standing behind with her mouth open.

  Damien

  My mother and I don’t converse with one another while Aaliya and then Celia retired to the ladies’ room. She simply sits simmering in silence while I do my best to ignore the dark looks she’s throwing at me. I let out a deep frustrated sigh waiting for Aaliya to return and for this failed night to be over. When I’d decided to take Aaliya out tonight, the last thing I expected was for her to witness a showdown between my mother and me or for her to face censure from my critical, blue blooded, proper parent.

  I stand as Aaliya walks towards me, a frown knotted on her head, her lips pressed together. Celia follows her with a dour expression that makes my insides rebel. If Celia has said something to upset Aaliya, then she and I will have a feud.

  I caress Aaliya’s cheek.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask as soon as Aaliya reaches my side.

  She sighs. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather skip dinner and return home.”

  I hate that Aaliya is no longer smiling. I tilt her chin up with my knuckle. “Did Celia say something to upset you?” I ask her.

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Aaliya says in her brave and fearless way. Any other woman I know would have cowered under the combined pressure of my mother first and then Celia. But not Aaliya! She truly is a lioness.

  I make our excuses and with instructions to the manager to add the bill to my account we leave my mother and Celia and head home.

  Aaliya is quiet as I zip the car down the roads. I reach for her hand and lift it to my lips.

  “Talk to me, sweetheart. What did Celia tell you that has upset you so much?”

  She takes her time to respond, but finally turns to me as I slow the car in front of a signal.

  “She offered me…” Aaliya’s phone rings before she can finish her sentence. She frowns as she answers the phone.

  The signal turns green. I move the car forward as I hear snippets of her side of the conversation.

  “Jasmine, it’s two thirty in the morning there, is everything okay?” Worry layers her words.

  “But Jasmine, you told me…”

  “What? How is he now?”

  “High fever! How high?” she yells.

  “The hospital!” Aaliya yelps.

  “I’m so afraid.”

  Her voice breaks into a sob as she cries into the phone.

  “I’m coming, Jasmine. Please look after him. I’m taking the next flight out.”

  She disconnects the call and bursts into tears. She puts her hands on her eyes and cries into them.

  I park the car on the side of the road and gather her into my arms. “What’s happened, baby? Tell me please. You’re worrying me.”

  “I left him for so long, Damien. It’s my fault. I should’ve been there for him. His fever is through the roof. They can’t contain it. I have to go.”

  She weeps into my shoulder. I hold her close to me and rub soothing circles down her back.

  “I shouldn’t have left him. And now he’s unwell. They need to admit him to the hospital.”

  “Who’s unwell, Aaliya? Is it your Dad? What happened to him?”

  My question sort of wakes her up from her cry-induced stupor because she sits straight and rubs the tears from her eyes.

  She sniffs. “I have to go, Damien. Right now! They need me. I have to collect my passport and book a ticket and I have to reach the airport.”

  “Hey, sweetheart, calm down and let me help okay. Do you have a copy of your passport on your phone?”

  She nods in affirmation.

  “Send it to Mike,” I instruct her. “I’ll ask him to book a ticket right away. It’ll be emailed to you even before we reach home.”

  I call Mike and give him instructions to organize a plane ticket to Mumbai for Aaliya and drive her straight home, our home. It has become ours ever since she stepped foot in it.

  Sh
e’s quiet and subdued throughout the drive and once we’re home, she packs a small bag and heads for the shower. I fix a plate of sandwiches as I wait for her to finish dressing. As promised, Mike organized a first class ticket for her even before we entered the apartment. Now he and Leo stand in the living room, waiting to drive us to the airport.

  She comes out wearing jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt, her grey leather jacket and flat-soled shoes. The black shawl I just gifted her is wrapped around her neck. I slide the plate of sandwiches towards her on the kitchen counter. She shakes her head.

  “I can’t eat. I just… I need to go. The flight takes off in three hours. And I have to reach fast. I can’t afford to miss it. They don’t know yet how serious it is. What if something happens to…”

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s all going to be fine!” I round the kitchen counter and pull her into my arms. She hugs me tight for a few moments before she takes a step back. A few tears spill down her cheeks and I wipe them with my fingers. I hope for her sake that everything is going to be fine soon. She must love her dad a lot that she worries so much about him.

  “I have to go, Damien. But I promise to be back soon and when I’m back we need to talk. You don’t know so much and I have to tell you so many things. But I can’t right now.”

  She kisses my cheek. “Damien, you are my journey and you are my destination. All my roads will always lead up to you.”

  My heart flutters at her words. They resonate within me, sounding familiar, but before I can think more on that, she kisses my cheek once again and whispers. “I love you.”

  My lungs seize, but then my heart leaps in my chest. When I open my mouth to speak, she presses her hand on my lips.

  “Don’t say anything. Not yet. Not until I’m back. Wait for me, okay?”

  “I will. Let me drop you to the airport.”

  “No, Damien. Leaving you is so hard. Stay, please. Leo will drop me. I’m going to be busy on the phone with my family as it is. I have to figure out what is happening.”

  We walk towards the living room and she turns into my arms and kisses my lips. “Take care of yourself,” she says. I hold her face and kiss her properly. I don’t want her to go. My home, my life, my world, everything is going to be vacant without her.