Falling For Her Bad Boy Boss (Island Girls: 3 Sisters In Mauritius)

by Zee Monodee

  She listened for a few minutes more as the man went on to explain what would happen.

  “I am really sorry, Madam. Please rest assured we’ll do everything to smooth this whole matter out for you. My deepest sympathies.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a mumble.

  “Call me if you need any information.”

  She nodded, and then wanted to laugh because Balraj Ahuja wouldn’t see her acquiescing.

  “I will,” she said, and noted down his number on the whiteboard next to the phone’s cradle.

  Putting the receiver down, she sighed. What had just happened? The man’s words didn’t help her any, and she had a hard time going through the twisted yarn he had spun for her.

  “Neha? You’re pale as a ghost.”

  Her mother settled her hands on her shoulders, guiding her to the chair she had vacated at the table. Neha plopped her weight in it. She still held the inhaler in her hand, her fingers tight, turning her knuckles white.

  A shot of pain went through her hand when she released the warm plastic. The jolt made her sit upright. Forcing her breathing to come in steady, she turned her gaze onto her mother, who sat next to her with a veil of concern on her features.

  “They found Rahul’s body.”

  Again, she marvelled at the calm manner with which she delivered the news.

  “Oh, darling.” The other woman stood and came around to hug her.

  Neha remained in her arms for a long moment. Then, her mum moved away.

  “Darling, I know you’re in shock, but we have to start thinking of practical stuff. Like getting his body back home for the funeral.”

  A small laugh escaped her. “That’s where it gets complicated. We don’t get a body back, Mum.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, according to the Indian authorities, there has been an administrative mix-up. When no one claimed the body after a while, they had it incinerated. It’s only a few days later that they found his name on the missing persons’ list.”

  “But,” her mother exclaimed. “How can this be?”

  A headache had started to build behind her forehead. “I have no idea, Mum. All I know is he is officially declared dead.”

  The true significance of the matter slowly sank in, but at the same time, Neha couldn’t make much sense of it other than to grasp at the obvious. Blast, what did she tell her children? How did she inform them once again that their father was gone? Hadn’t they suffered enough the first time around?

  “Darling, look at me.” Her mother took her hands in hers. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, you hear?”

  She took in a deep breath. “I’ll ... A friend of Rahul’s father used to work at the Mauritian High Commission in India. I’ll give him a call later.”

  “Do it. Or if you want, your father could handle this.”

  “I need to do this, Mum. I’ll have to talk to the children and would rather have all my facts straight.” She pulled her hands from her mother’s grasp and stood. “In fact, let me ring him right now.”

  She went to the phone and proceeded with the call. Having no precise idea what she told the older man or what he told her, too, she only reckoned he’d been shocked and had promised to find out whatever he could about this strange and unfortunate business.

  Coming back to the table, she glanced at her cold tea. Not drinkable any longer, so she went to the sink where she dumped the brown liquid. “You want another cuppa?”

  “Neha, are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Her husband was dead, but nothing new there, innit? He’d been gone from her life for two years already. In fact, he’d been ‘lost’ to her for much longer, by her side but only a shadow of himself as they’d gone on with the sham of their marriage in the past few years.

  Had he even been hers at one point?

  “I’m sorry,” her mother said.

  “What for?” she asked as she turned to face her.

  “Darling, you’re a widow now,” Mrs. Hemant said softly.

  Neha only snorted. I’ve been a widow for longer than a day, Mother. “I’ll get over it.”

  “This … this doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  Goes to show there’s a lot about me you don’t know.

  “Listen, I know you must be in shock and thus not thinking properly—”

  At this, Neha really laughed. She laughed harder at the bewildered expression on the other woman’s face. Her mirth sobered suddenly, and she quieted.

  “I can think perfectly clearly, I assure you.”

  In fact, I may not have ever thought so clearly as now.

  “Neha, you’ve got me worried.”

  “Don’t be.” The retort came out sharper than she’d intended, but she didn’t take it back or try to smooth it.

  “Darling, life goes on, you know.”

  She ground her teeth together when she heard the— The what? The grating note of patience? The careful pronunciation? The underlying pity in them?

  I don’t need your pity, she yearned to scream, but contained herself. She’d been living most of her life alone, and had made it fine, had brought up three children not only beautiful in mind but in heart, too. She didn’t need anyone’s pity!

  “Neha, look. We’ll all be here for you. And we’ll find you someone else—”

  “What?”

  Her mother grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down into her seat. “You are alone now. You need a husband. Someone to lend you a shoulder when life gets tough. Think of it, Neha. The children need a father, too, a man’s strong presence. You couldn’t do all this when you didn’t know what had happened to Rahul. But now, you’re free to remarry.”

  “Mum—”

  “It’s true, and you better listen.”

  She didn’t want a husband. She didn’t even want a man. Well, not just any man. Logan was here. He’d be there for her ...

  Would he?

  The niggling doubt worked its way inside her, and she stilled, everything freezing over inside her.

  “You see? You hadn’t thought this through, had you?” her mother asked.

  No. She hadn’t. She’d only thought as far as how to get into his arms again. Because then, there had been no future. Drat, she hadn’t wanted a future. She had existed in the moment only, breathed only for his touch and his kisses. For his lovemaking.

  “We’ll find someone for you, Neha,” her mother said. “Remember when Lara’s marriage broke down? She had received proposals even though she’d had the bad ‘divorcee’ tag on her back. You will, too. You haven’t been tainted, darling. You are a widow.”

  The realization crashed down on her.

  She was widowed. Alone. With three children on her hands. Free to remarry ...

  Who would want to take on such baggage?

  A man may have been all happy to take her to his bed, but back then, she had been a dead end, a safe option. Not married, but not free, either. The perfect compromise.

  Now, things were different. Never had she and Logan spoken about a future. They hadn’t spoken about the next day, for goodness’ sake. He liked her children, yes, but they hadn’t come with the package when she’d been nothing more than his mistress. Blast it, too, she couldn’t even call herself that. She was his shag partner.

  She may have been trying to hide their relationship to the world, but what about him? He had never tried to take things to another level. There had been no hint he would give her more than what he had given, which amounted to a few stolen nights.

  Face it. He might want you, but he doesn’t need you.

  Logan was a worldly man. One who could get any woman he wished for. One who’d probably been in countless relationships and had no scars to show for them. Why? Because a man like him would always come out unscathed, for he called the shots.

  What would he do with a complicated basket case like her?

  Blast it, even Rahul had married her for what she could bring him, not for what
she was. She came from a good family, had skin that could pass for white, proved docile and domestic-minded, would bear him children, sons. She’d never rock the boat. Perfect wife material.

  And Rahul had never loved her, because he had loved Lara. Lara, who had brushed him off and married an acquaintance of theirs, Roy Reddy, who lived in London. Marriage that had ended in divorce. And then, Lara had met Eric, while Rahul had already been married to Neha for a few years. At the time, she had just given birth to Rishi.

  A strangled moan escaped her lips, to be followed by a gasp, and another, and another, until she openly sobbed and tears coursed down her cheeks.

  What had she gotten herself into? Her whole life amounted to a fucked up accumulation of messes, one more dire than the other.

  How could she make things right, when none had a proper foundation to build upon?

  Soft arms closed around her, and without resisting, she let her head fall against her mother’s bosom.

  “Hush, darling. Everything will be all right.”

  No. Nothing would be okay. You couldn’t write on a dirty slate. You’d need a clean one for that.

  And how did one bring about a clean slate other than through a new beginning? This would be her only chance, and this time, she had to do things right.

  ***

  Logan frowned as he stared at his mobile phone. Neha had sent him a text message, asking if he come meet her the following morning at her house.

  He should’ve been elated, because she was welcoming him to her place, alone. But he couldn’t shrug off the unpleasant sensation that there lay more behind the words.

  For one thing, why did she text and not call? His finger itched, a sure sign betraying his curiosity, and strangely, his worry, too. Before he could stop himself, he pressed the speed-dial button for her number and brought the phone to his ear.

  She answered on the fourth ring, and he frowned at her laconic greeting.

  “Babe, is everything okay?”

  “Fine,” she croaked, and this snowballed the dread inside him. “You got my text?”

  “Yeah. What was that about?”

  “It’s … complicated. Come over tomorrow. The kids will be into school, and we can talk.”

  Talk?

  “What about?”

  “Just … come.” She inhaled sharply. “I have to go.”

  “Wait,” he said, but didn’t bother to add anything else since she’d cut the call.

  What the hell was going on? Something not good, he’d bet on it. Only a few hours earlier, she had left his place with a smile on her face and laughter gurgling from her throat. What could have happened in such a short time to turn her into this almost mechanical-sounding doll?

  Sleep eluded him throughout the night, and he tossed and turned, waking up from fitful dozing at sparrow’s fart in an absolutely foul mood. What could be wrong with Neha? The question had plagued him all through the endless hours. As he sipped the inedible coffee he always concocted, his temper took another turn for the worse as the acrid, bitter taste coated his tongue. He swore as he glanced at the clock. Only seven. She’d said to come over when the children would be in school, which meant not before another couple of hours, at least.

  And what about the office? He couldn’t leave everything dangling at the station. At the same time, he stood in no shape whatsoever to concentrate on work.

  Grabbing the phone, he punched in another number on speed-dial.

  “Griff, do me a favour, mate. I’ve got some stuff to handle this morning. I’ll come in at midday. Can you take care of the office if anything comes up?”

  “Sure, Logan.” Griffin paused. “Everything okay?”

  He yearned to tell his friend about what worried him, but then, Griff didn’t even know he and Neha had become more than co-anchors. “Yeah. Cheers, bro.”

  “Anytime,” a confused-sounding Griff said and cut the call.

  Logan bided his time until nine o’clock struck. Grabbing his keys, he exited the villa and got into his car. It would take him at least an hour with the morning traffic to get to Curepipe. Ample time for Neha to be alone at her place.

  When he reached her house, the feeling of impending doom inside him couldn’t be contained any longer. Something dire awaited him. What, though? What did she have to say that proved so important, and why the secrecy about it? Why hadn’t she simply come out and told him on the phone?

  His feet touched the gravel in her driveway before the drone of the engine had died down after he’d cut the ignition. With long, rapid steps, he made it to the front door. He pressed the doorbell, and the heavy wood panel swung open in front of him.

  He stilled at the sight greeting him. She wore a blazer over a long dress, her face pale. One look at her eyes, which she lowered, told him something of momentous proportions brewed.

  “G’day,” he said to break through the heavy atmosphere.

  “Come in.”

  He took a step forward. She gave him a wide berth as he entered the lobby, and closed the door. She then led him into the sitting room.

  Bad. Neha’s domain was the kitchen, the sitting room being a neutral, for-outsiders-only territory.

  So he’d turned into a stranger all of a sudden?

  He tamped down on the questions he craved to ask. Neha had called him over; let her do the talking, disclose the reasons behind this whole masquerade. Bugger it all, twenty-fours earlier, she had been moaning and writhing in his arms with pleasure. She had trailed her hands over his skin, and her mouth ... Heaven, she’d kissed him in places ...

  Logan shook his head. He shouldn’t think of that.

  Instead, he focused his attention on her. She wrung her hands and kept her head down.

  “Logan,” she said without looking up. “This … is for you.”

  She reached for an envelope on the side table near her sofa and handed it over to him.

  “What is it?”

  His body grew stiff, tensed up. Bad. That’s how he used to react back on the street, when his instincts would pick up that he better brace himself for a tough wall coming right up ahead. Back in the day, the wall in question had been a member of some Wellington backstreet gang.

  Today, he had a feeling the wall would be a cold and deceptively cool woman, the same one sitting across from him.

  Who the bloody hell was she?

  “What is it?” he again asked, this time his voice chillingly lower.

  She bit her lip. “My … resignation letter.”

  “Your what?”

  “My resignation letter,” she again said, as if he’d been a deaf bloke who hadn’t heard right.

  “Yeah, I heard the first time. What does it mean?”

  She threw her hands up and stood.

  So he would be treated to impatience?

  “What does a resignation letter mean, Logan? It means I’m resigning from my job at the station. As you’re my boss, I figured I had to present it to you.”

  He stood, too.

  “Don’t take me for a bloody clown, Neha. I know what it implies.” Anger coursed through him, making him clench his hands into fists. “I asked, what does it mean? Why are you resigning?”

  She turned her back to him. “Rahul is dead.”

  “Yeah, I know this.” What was she getting at?

  “No. They … they found his body. In India.”

  “Wait a second.” He crossed the distance between them in two steps to stand in front of her. “You mean he is legally declared dead?”

  She nodded.

  A spark of happiness and hope burst inside his chest. This news meant freedom for her. Which, in turn, meant he could ask her to marry him. Not right then, for the situation would’ve opened a still raw wound inside her. Though in time, hopefully not so far in the future, they could come out in the open and be a couple in the eyes of the whole world.

  But as she kept her head down, his heartbeat returned to normal, almost slowing to an agonizing pace as the seconds ticked by.
<
br />   “Babe, look at me.”

  “No.”

  She moved away from him, as if his mere presence close to her burnt her.

  What the hell …

  “Neha, you’re free now. That’s what this means.” He paused. “Listen, I know I sound like a right jerk for not saying I’m sorry. I am sorry, but it’s not the issue here.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t.”

  The cool tone struck him to his place.

  “The issue is, I am a widow, Logan. It’s official. It’s the truth. It’s my reality.”

  Her voice broke on the last word, and he found himself going to her side, wanting to comfort her at the obvious distress rattling through her. “Listen, I know this must’ve come as a shock, but—”

  “But nothing!”

  She jumped when he got close and settled his hand on her arm. She shrugged away from his touch, going around the small side table to place the glass-and-wood expanse between them.

  Something had to be seriously off. Tread carefully, the rational side of his brain prompted, especially against the other, emotional side, which clouded over with rapid anger and confusion.

  “Neha, what is going on?”

  “It’s over, Logan.”

  His blood froze in his veins. “What is?”

  “Everything.”

  The word came out barely higher than a whisper, but the cold laced in it struck him like shards of prickling ice, tearing at his composure and everything keeping him in check.

  “You’re piking out,” he said. “You’re giving up on us.”

  “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  The shrieking sound came completely at odds with the cool and detached persona she had put across so far.

  “The right thing for whom?”

  “For me. For my children. For everyone.”

  He kept his focus on her, daring her to hold up his gaze. She couldn’t mean it, surely. Then, in a swift move, he went around the table and stopped inches away from her. He snaked a hand out and clasped her upper arm, keeping her close when she tried to break free.

  “What about me, Neha? Have you thought of me in there, as well?”

  Damn her. She couldn’t simply discard him like that. What had it been between them, then? Nothing but some mindless, emotionless fucking and slumming? No bloody way, Neha.