Krish’s eyes narrowed. He knew what his father was leading up to. The same old arguments about filial obligations, family prestige, blah-blah…He’d heard it all his life. Who better than him to know just how little his father truly cared about family values? It was just another tactic KD used in his game of endless manipulation. But he wouldn’t be intimidated. Not any more. Not after he’d seen how his sweet, serene, spiritual mother had paid the price for her selfless devotion to her family. His voice hardened as he raised his hand. ‘Dad, let’s not do this. I am your son but you don’t own me.’
The air was so thick with tension that a knife could have sliced through it. The phone rang. KD picked it up and barked into it; ‘Yes?’ After listening for barely a moment he said, ‘Viren, tumhe pata hai kya karna hai. You know what to do. I’ll be there in a bit.’
Krish walked away towards the elevator. ‘Your guests are waiting for you and I don’t think they would be happy with Viren as a substitute. And oh, by the way, happy birthday!’
* * *
The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. Maya pushed her way out of the crammed compartment and walked down the corridor towards the frosted glass door with ‘Evergreen Consultants’ splashed on it in big, bright green letters. As she passed by the reception desk, a pretty girl called out, ‘Good morning, Maya! Will you just hold on for a sec, please?’
Maya stopped at the desk. ‘Good morning!’
As the receptionist handed her an envelope, Maya laughed. ‘What’s this? An early pay day?’
But the receptionist looked away, fidgeting with the phone cord. ‘Your things are in that box. Kavita Madam’s orders.’
Maya looked at the cardboard box that sat on the counter. ‘My stuff?’
She tore open the envelope. It contained a note that simply said: ‘You are fired.’ Kavita’s scrawl beneath those three words confirmed this was no mistake. There was a cheque for sixty thousand rupees—which included severance pay and her salary to date. Numb with shock, she hesitated before she grabbed the box and left the office.
Six months and twelve days—that was how long her job had lasted before it had gone kaput! It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she had been fired without being given any reason. All it had taken was a call from KD and Kavita would have bent over backwards to follow his orders. After all, she was just a lowly employee while he was an all-powerful client who could generate new business for Evergreen in a snap. Maya had a good mind to storm into Kavita’s office and demand an explanation. But how would that make a difference? The writing on the wall was as clear as a big, bright neon sign. She could forget about her dreams of becoming a landscape designer, about making a life in this city. Her diploma was now reduced to a mere scrap of paper that she might as well dump in the rubbish bin. All her hard work counted for nothing. The close-knit community of landscaping professionals and employers would not touch her with a twenty-foot bargepole—KD would have made damn sure of that.
Rage. She felt that old familiar emotion rip through her. She’d known rage for a very long time. Rage at her own inability to help her father, whose agony she could only fathom when he thrashed about in his alcohol-induced sleep. Rage at her father for being powerless to take on his tormentor, KD. Rage at the injustice of it all. Over the years, the flames of her rage had died down to become a steady glowing ember, but it had been enough to fuel her desire to bring KD down, to snatch away the power that gave him the right to treat others like dirt, take away their dignity by exercising his money and influence. And, once again, KD had left her feeling undermined and powerless.
As she stepped out into the street, a dust storm raged. Leaves and litter whirled around her as pedestrians ran for cover. The tall Ashoka trees swayed and bent over, as if trying to keep out of the devastating path of the angry storm. Maya’s angst had projected itself into the universe. The storm raged, as did her emotions. Taking refuge under a bus shelter, she recalled that dreadful night four years ago.
She had just stepped into the overcrowded public hospital in Howrah where her father was being treated for cirrhosis of the liver. She had prepared and packed his favourite fish curry and rice. The elderly nurse, whom everyone called Mashi, had reassured her that Papa was on the road to recovery. As she entered the cramped general ward, which he shared with twenty other patients, she saw Mashi hovering over his bed.
‘How’s Papa, Mashi?’ she asked. ‘Can I take him home tonight?’
Mashi turned towards her, her kind eyes full of an unspoken sadness. ‘My child, your father has gone…’
Maya stared uncomprehendingly at Mashi. ‘Gone?’
Mashi took her in her arms, squashing her to her ample breast. ‘He’s gone to his maker. May his soul rest in peace.’
The tiffin box clattered to the ground.
‘Papa…No, that’s not possible. You said he was going to be fine. You…you said…’
There was a lump that squeezed her throat so tight, it wouldn’t let the words come out. She ran towards the iron cot. She whipped away the white sheet that covered his body. He lay there. Lifeless. Beaten by life. Beaten by his hatred for the man who had ruined his life.
With the help of the hospital ward boy, whom Mashi had deputed, she had taken her father’s body to the crematorium. She didn’t have the money to pay for a priest to do the last rites. What little cash she had was spent on firewood, essential ingredients for the cremation and a tip for the ward boy. She watched Papa’s body burn on the pyre through the night. There were no tears. Only rage in her heart. It seeped through her bones as the flames leapt towards the night sky, fuelling her need for revenge.
Rage and revenge. They had the acrid smell of burning flesh and the searing heat of embers.
KD’s actions had stoked the embers of Maya’s rage once more. She felt the heat singe her skin and the smell of ashes invade her nostrils once again. She would not be defeated by him. Never. That was a vow she had made to herself and to Papa that night, as she cremated him with only one mantra in her heart: ‘I’ll get justice for you, Papa!’
After that night, there was nothing left for her in Howrah. She boarded up the tiny cottage where she and Papa had lived, sold the few gold ornaments that her mother had saved up for her wedding and took the train to Delhi. All she took with her was Papa’s diary, the very same that Mashi had found tucked under his pillow at the hospital, and a studio-posed family photograph taken on her ninth birthday. The money from the sale of the jewellery was enough to put down a deposit and a few months’ rent for a handkerchief-sized one-room kitchenette terrace apartment, known as barsaati. She’d applied to the best colleges in town and finally got admission to the prestigious Miranda House College on a scholarship. She’d studied by day, gave dance lessons by evening and worked as a waitress at a local pub by night. Those had been four gruelling years but one thing had kept her going. Her rage.
The dust storm worked itself out as suddenly as it had appeared. The unbearable heat had been replaced by a light, cool breeze. It lifted Maya’s spirits. As pedestrians emerged from their shelters and the traffic once again resumed, she started walking down towards the Metro station. She didn’t know how, but she was certain that revenge would be hers. That was her destiny. And KD’s.
Lost in thought, she was completely oblivious to the snazzy Toyota Prius that almost ran her over. She stopped in the middle of the street as the driver screeched to a halt barely inches from her. Shaken out of her reverie, she jumped out of the way, crashing into a cart laden with fruit.
As oranges and apples rolled all around her, the fruit seller yelled angrily, ‘Madam, aapko dikhta nahin hai? Can’t you see where you’re going?’
The Prius’s chauffeur, dressed in a spotless white uniform, apologised profusely. ‘Sorry, sorry, madam.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Maya replied.
‘Madam, aapka naam Maya hai?’
‘How do you know my name?’ she shot back.
‘Krish Dev saab ne bheja hai.
He’s waiting for you at the Taj Mansingh coffee shop.’
‘Krish Dev?’
‘Madam, please. Ek baar baat karlo. At least talk to him.’ He held out his cellphone to her.
‘Go tell your boss I’m not his slave.’
‘Madam…’
The traffic started to pile up and a honking orchestra had begun.
A driver yelled, ‘Oy…move it, will you! We don’t have all day while you sort out your issues!’
‘Madam, please!’ the chauffeur pleaded again.
Confronted by annoyed drivers all around her, Maya had no choice but to get in. She was amazed at the sheer arrogance of Krish Dev. After his utterly obnoxious behaviour yesterday, he had the gall to order her around. She couldn’t wait to give that arrogant, self-obsessed guy a piece of her mind! But, even as a part of her seethed at his behaviour, a strange excitement bubbled within her at the thought of setting eyes on him again. She closed her eyes in horror. What’s wrong with you, Maya? she wondered desolately.
* * *
Krish watched from a secluded alcove as one very angry Maya stormed into the coffee shop. Even in her casual, no-nonsense sky-blue salwar-kameez, she looked utterly delectable. No, he wouldn’t let himself be distracted by her doe eyes and luscious lips. This time around, he would be all business. But, as she approached him, he felt every cell in his body come alive. So much for being cool, calm and businesslike, he thought wryly.
‘Hello, Maya. Thank you for coming,’ he said.
Maya’s skin prickled at the sound of his sexy voice. ‘Much against my will!’ she spat out, her golden-brown eyes flashing fire. ‘And I demand an apology.’
He remained unfazed by her annoyance. ‘Perhaps you would like to listen to my business proposition before you shout at me. You will only embarrass yourself further.’
Maya couldn’t believe his arrogance. ‘Embarrass myself? Last night you embarrassed me in front of everybody by…’
She turned her gaze away as she felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of the kiss.
‘Kissing you?’ he inserted helpfully. ‘I got the impression that you enjoyed it as much as I did.’
Maya’s face flushed a hot pink. ‘What I meant was your proposal.’
‘Oh, so you enjoyed the kiss but it was the proposal that offended you?’
Maya tried to calm herself as this infuriating guy had her all tied up in knots. ‘What’s offensive is that you should play a stupid prank like that in the first place!’
‘It wasn’t a prank. I was deadly serious. Why don’t you sit down and let’s talk about it like rational adults?’
She remained rooted to the spot. ‘It wasn’t some kind of sick joke? You are serious? You want to marry me?’
Maya’s shock made her totally oblivious to the fact that they had begun to attract amused looks from the tables around them.
Krish gave her a lopsided grin. ‘If you like, I’d be happy to go down on one knee and propose. Seems like everyone here is expecting me to do just that.’
Maya glanced around and, much to her embarrassment, found people smiling at them. ‘Look, Mister,’ she hissed at him, ‘I’ve had a lousy day so far. So, if you are done with your fun and games, perhaps you could tell me why I’ve been summoned. Maybe then I could get on with my life…of course with your permission?’ she added with withering sarcasm.
Krish raised his hands, as if in surrender. ‘Okay, Maya. Let’s start over again, shall we?’ He gave her a sincere smile. ‘And I apologise if I have embarrassed you. I promise you, that wasn’t my intention at all.’
She felt her heart thaw slightly as he added persuasively, ‘How about calling a truce with some cold coffee and chocolate muffins?’
How did he do it? She felt her anger fade away under the onslaught of his charm. Maybe he had an internal switch that he flipped—arrogant hotshot one minute, Prince Charming the next…?
It felt churlish to refuse his peace offering and she grudgingly nodded. ‘Just cold coffee, please.’
He snapped his fingers and within seconds a waiter put before her a tall glass of deliciously chilled coffee with a topping of choco chips. Krish leaned towards her. ‘Now, would you like to hear my business proposal?’
She wished he wouldn’t lean so close. Not only was her heart thundering away like a runaway train but, with his breath fanning the hair on her forehead, her mind was in danger of completely shutting down any rational thought. Shoot! Finally, her befuddled mind kicked in. ‘Business proposal? I thought you said marriage proposal!’
CHAPTER THREE
KRISH WAS FINALLY comfortable. Doing what he did best—deal-making. Maya listened to him with increasing incredulity as he rattled off his proposal like he would a corporate presentation, complete with bullet points. All he needed was a projector and one of those laser pointers. But then, with those piercing dark eyes, he’d already hypnotised her. Problem was that as she focused on those oh-so-kissable lips and his sexy cleft chin, his words were being drowned by the sound of her own rapid-fire heartbeat. Forcing herself to concentrate, her jaw nearly dropped open as her brain kicked into gear. A job that masqueraded as a marriage! Sure, it was a job to die for. But marriage? Surely he didn’t need to go that far?
‘What you need is a landscape designer, not a wife!’ she exclaimed.
Krish looked at her intently. ‘There are two reasons for the marriage condition. One: what I am about to set up would be the most ambitious project of its kind in the country. I cannot and will not take the risk of details being leaked to the media. You and I will work on this together as a two-member team. That way, if anything leaks out, I know who the culprit is.’ He paused, letting the words sink in. Then added with a serious look, ‘And I have a whole other presentation on what happens if you breach the contract.’
Maya breathed in sharply. ‘And reason number two?’
‘Amisha.’
‘Who?’
‘Surya Mittal’s daughter. My father is hell-bent on marrying me off to her.’
‘I don’t get it. You’re not averse to a marriage of convenience with me. So, why not with Amisha?’
‘There is one big difference,’ he said, glowering. ‘Expectations. Between us, it would be nothing but a business deal, with clear terms and conditions. But with Amisha, she would expect that our arranged marriage would at some stage lead to love. To a real marriage. To babies, commitment, the whole nine yards. That’s not for me.’
The full weight of Krish’s offer hit Maya. What he wanted was an employee with benefits. One who could double up as a wife and allow him to play the field. How utterly convenient! ‘Oh, so you want your cake and be able to eat it too!’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? No commitment to a wife leaves you free to play the field with other women.’
A hard look came into his eyes even as he laughed out loud. ‘Already jealous? Don’t worry, Mona Lisa, I’m strictly a one-woman guy.’
Now, that raised a whole lot of very pertinent but troubling questions. As her imagination took flight with images of Krish’s naked torso on a king-sized bed, she reined in her thoughts.
Krish’s eyes strayed to her mouth as she bit the soft inside of her lower lip. His look was nothing short of a caress and she shivered as he said huskily, ‘Trust me, I intend to keep that promise.’
‘But why me?’ Her voice sounded breathless even to her ears.
‘Why not?’ he asked as he gave her his lopsided grin, fully aware of the effect he was having on her. ‘You’re ambitious, you want the good life and you want it here and now. And, as far as I can tell, falling in love and having babies are not in your scheme of things. But if they are, you’d better tell me right now.’
Maya couldn’t agree more with him. Love was a luxury she couldn’t afford. But he had no clue what was at the heart of her burning ambition. It was definitely best if he stayed clueless, considering who he was. ‘You hardly know me. Aren’t you w
orried that I might expose your grand plans to the press, in spite of any contract I’d signed? I’m sure the media would pounce on every little piece of gossip about the super-reclusive heir of the Dev empire and pay an extortionate amount for the privilege?’
Krish dramatically slapped his palm to his forehead. ‘Ah yes! Blackmail. Why didn’t I think of that? Okay, let’s say you go ahead and do it. Who do you think they’ll believe? The down-and-out woman who has just been fired from her job and is looking for her fifteen minutes of fame by maligning—’
Eyes flashing, she cut him short. ‘That was you, wasn’t it? Did you think getting me fired would make me more amenable to your offer?’
Krish’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘No, it wasn’t me. It was KD, and I’m truly sorry about that. But, to be utterly frank with you, it did work out to my advantage and I’m not one to let an opportunity like that slip by me.’
Before she could lash out again, he reached out and caught her hand. ‘Listen to me. You don’t know how ruthless KD can be. He won’t stop till he has either ruined your reputation or run you out of this city, or both. Trust me, only I can protect you from him.’
Maya fumed at his arrogance. But he was right. KD was ruthless, all right. Who better than her to know that? Krish drove in his point forcefully. ‘You can’t change the past, Maya. But you have an opportunity to change your future. And if you’re smart, you’ll grab it.’
His words gave her a jolt. He could have been quoting verbatim from Papa’s diary. The jottings that she’d read and reread for the last four years till every word was etched in her heart and mind. She had no choice but to grab every chance that she got. Whatever Krish’s motives might be for going through with this marriage of convenience, one thing was for sure—she would never again get such a golden opportunity to infiltrate the enemy’s lair.
She could still feel the shards of contempt that had pierced her heart when KD had thundered last evening: ‘You are going to marry a girl like her?’ How could his precious son marry a nobody? Riff-raff! A social pariah not worthy to grace his party! Fury filled every molecule of her being. Oh, how she would love to see his face when she walked into the Dev family home as his daughter-in-law. That would be the first step towards her goal of getting justice for Papa. That was the only way his soul would rest in peace. And she would do anything for that…even if it meant tying the knot with the enemy’s son. Krish was right—you couldn’t change the past but she would damn well make sure that the Devs atoned for it.
The Indian Tycoon's Marriage Deal Page 3