by Reet Singh
No Escape from Love
REET SINGH
Copyright © 2018 Reet Singh
All rights reserved.
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permissions please contact: [email protected]
Cover design: Dil2014 on Fiverr®
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Bapuji and Biji and to summer holidays in Bhumbli where every day was an adventure.
To all the people who have ever loved, and to those who hope to - may there be no escape from love!
Dear Reader,
I am delighted that you picked up 'No Escape from Love'.
This story is particularly close to my heart for many reasons: one, because Mohini and Aalok have been with me for over three years. They had to wait all this time to find their Happily-Ever-After as I allowed life and work to come in between their story and me.
Two, their romance is kindled in a village in Punjab. The setting is loosely based on my memories of family holidays with my maternal grandparents in their palatial home in the village. With its gardens and orchards, multiple terraces and zillions of books, the place was heaven for imaginative children.
Finally, I’m excited to share that I am going Indie with this book. It is the first romance novel that I am self-publishing and I need all your love.
Well, it's their time in the sun now, and without further ado, I hand Mohini and Aalok over to you. I hope you love them. Do let me know what you think of their story by leaving a review on Amazon and on Goodreads; you could also email me and look up my other works on my website. Come hang out with me on twitter and on facebook.
Happy reading!
Reet Singh
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my gang of girls:
Adite, Devika, Esha, Paromita, Preethi, Ruchi, Sai, Sudesna & Vandana
Without your presence in my life Mohini and Aalok would have had to wait much longer to find their happily-ever-after
To Trveen:
for being the first to read this story and for bravely telling me what was what
To NagiDiepe:
I love you for no reason but also for every reason in the world
To Adite Banerjie (again):
Posh Tosh! For being a valuable Beta-reader and an invaluable friend
To Navjeevan:
For struggling with me and for me
One
'Oh my god! What do you think you're doing? Move back at once!' Mohini screeched the words in fluent but hysterical Punjabi, and lunged at the figure half hanging over the parapet. Frantic fingers closed around soft fabric and she yanked with all her might.
Goodness, the fellow was heavy!
Either that, or he was awfully determined. Like she herself had been that dreadful time three years ago. She shuddered but didn't let go.
Her arms threatened to separate from the rest of her. The high-speed sprint across the terrace had rendered her breathless, which didn't help at all. But she was running on the power born out of a horrific memory - of how miserably close to the end one could feel ... of how awful and lonely it could get … she hadn't stopped to think before she'd flung her arms out to pull the man back.
Fire seared her lungs and a pulse hammered loudly, deafening her. Gritting her teeth, she dug the heels of her walking shoes into the cracked cement and gave it everything she had.
Expecting some resistance, she was surprised when the man straightened abruptly, and let out a string of colorful, colloquial, cuss words. Even as her ears burned at the content and context of his verbal attack, he shook her off with embarrassing ease. Mohini found herself flying through the warm April evening to land unceremoniously on her rear.
The fellow, meanwhile, threw his large body into a defensive posture, fists at the ready. Fiercely narrowed eyes darted about until they fixed on her tiny and unarmed form sprawled awkwardly a few feet away. A thunderous frown descended on a rather broad forehead – but then, perhaps because of the feeble threat she presented, he uncoiled from his panther-like crouch. His frown, however, persisted while his lips twisted into a snarl.
When he roared, Mohini flinched. 'What the hell did you do that for?' He didn't sound like he appreciated what she'd tried to do.
To add to her confusion, he had yelled in impeccable, though rude, English. It was a little unexpected in the middle of a village in Punjab - especially after he'd just cursed so efficiently in the local language.
Who the devil was this strange, multilingual man?
Mohini's scrambled senses registered the fragrance of a hundred different blossoms wafting all the way up from her grandfather's gardens. Though it reminded her frantic brain that she was on familiar territory, it did little to reassure her about anything else.
The man continued to loom ominously, expecting some sort of response from her, but a half-remembered fear paralyzed her vocal cords. In the fading light, he was huge and shadowy and sinister - the long, untidy hair, and the craggy, unshaven jaw did not inspire trust. Was he somebody from her past? What was he here for?
'Zubaan girvi rakhi aye, mundaya?' he sneered, switching back to Punjabi with ease.
Mohini ignored the uncivil reference to her tongue and to the failure of that organ to respond to his question; instead, she focused with astonishment on the 'mundaya' part of his taunt. He thought she was a 'young lad'?
That stung for some reason and it had her scrambling to her feet. She yanked at the scarf that she’d tied turban-style to keep the hair out of her eyes. Despite her uncertainty and trepidation, she watched with some pleasure as a dumbfounded expression chased the sneer off the man’s face.
'You're a bloody woman!' he burst out in seething anger, annoying her more than he had before. Mohini struggled to tame the curls that blew about in irritating abandon thanks to a stiff breeze; that done, she stretched her tiny frame, trying to stand as tall as her five feet two inches would let her.
It made little difference - he was miles too large, and way too brash to be intimidated by her. He continued to maintain his threatening posture, still looking choleric, so she took a stealthy step backwards.
'I thought . . . I just . . . What are you doing here? This is ...'
The stranger, rude as ever, cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand, and strode back to where he’d been earlier. He peered over the edge of the roof, but by now Mohini had had enough of him. If he intended to leap off, she was all for it. Insufferable man!
He didn't jump. Instead, he snorted at the bougainvillea that clambered in merry profusion over brick and mortar, then shook his head and turned to snarl at her. 'Just look at what you've done! It'll never survive the fall.'
He charged over closer to where she stood, and glowered at her in the setting sun. '
Why did you slam into me like that for? Couldn't you see where you were going?'
Mohini clenched her teeth. She didn't respond well to sarcasm or anger. Besides, the obnoxious man was standing too close for rational thought. He filled her field of view and she considered stepping back some more. Perhaps it would be wise to put the water tank between them.
There was a large, sharpened shard of wood wedged into the broken latch of the plastic tank - if she could get her hands on it ... but then she figuratively stiffened her spine once again. She lived here, in this hitherto peaceful village, Tejopur. This was her terrace - her late grandfather's actually - and the stranger was trespassing. Besides, she could hear Bindro singing away downstairs in the kitchen - so help was within shouting distance. Above everything else, she herself was a judoka and her nage-waza had always inspired respect.
Much reassured, Mohini felt it was past time to let the aggressive boor know who was boss. Although sorely tempted to be scathing, it was obvious now that he had misinterpreted her actions, so she decided to deal with him in a civil manner.
'I did not slam into you,' she said as reasonably as she could, considering that she wanted nothing more than to knock him out with a large, heavy object and hand him over to the local thanedaar. 'I thought you were about to ju... er ... topple over.'
'Instead, thanks to you I've just 'toppled over' my cell phone. Two floors down. Molecules of it are probably skittering all over the property even now.' He threw his arms about in an unfairly magnified gesture.
Mohini stiffened. Ah well, she had tried - but it was difficult to be polite to a person who didn't know the meaning of the word.
'Oh ... I'm sorry you've dropped your phone; but, how is it my fault if you can't hold on to your possessions? You shouldn't be up here, any way. This is private property.'
'Yeah, well, I'm sorry too - about all of this,' the man snapped right back - he stretched the 'all' and earned another black look for his trouble - 'but I'm a guest of the family.'
He pierced her with a sharp glare. 'Are you supposed to be here? On private property?'
Mohini's mouth dropped open.
Shamelessly untruthful, gate-crashing giant! He wasn't her guest - she didn't even know him!
'I live on this property, Mister - you are no guest of this family.' She jabbed with furious vigor at her chest and winced when a rib protested.
Her pronouncement had a vivid effect on the man. The transformation was astounding - he flinched, then his fierce expression crumbled into sheepish embarrassment.
'Good lord,' he groaned. A large hand flew up to smack his forehead; the other one he held out in supplication. 'Damn it, I should have guessed - who else would speak the Queen's language in this godforsaken place?'
His tone was considerably less belligerent, the eyes almost beseeching. 'Please tell me you aren't Mohini Kapoor?'
Mohini Kapoor moved back a step. Two steps.
'Who are you? How did you learn my name?'
'Ritvik mentioned a little sister - he forgot to warn me she'd be a danger to life and limb...and to cell phones.' He grinned, though his brow was still furrowed.
Mohini refused to respond to his flagrant attempt to charm her. He could keep his grin and stuff it for all she cared, even if it did immediately transform his face from menacing to ruggedly handsome.
'Ritvik? Hmph! Are you one of my brother's projects? I've told him a thousand times not to....' She shook her head at the futility of expecting Ritvik to say no to anybody who needed help.
Casting a steely look at the man who claimed to know her brother, she took her long-pending anger out on him since Ritvik was conspicuously absent. 'And did you call Tejopur godforsaken? Why are you here if that's how you feel - if my lovely village isn't up to your exacting standards?'
'Listen! In my defense ... you weren't supposed to be here. Ritvik repeatedly told me I'd have the place to myself.'
'Oh!' Mohini acknowledged the truth with a tiny nod. 'I had to cancel. In fact, I’ve only just returned after having gone all the way to Dhariwal - for no reason as it turned out. I run a cottage industry here, and my fabric supplier in Amritsar canceled ... ,’ she paused, then decided to cut the long story short.
‘Anyway, I usually come in through our own main gate, but today I took the shortcut over my Uncle's roof.' she gestured to the terrace of the adjacent building, 'which is why I happened upon you...' She rolled her eyes.
The stranger stuck out a hand all of a sudden and Mohini jumped.
'Aalok. Aalok Ahuja. We seem to have started this all wrong. Let's begin again, shall we?'
She was tempted to ignore his offer of peace. Surely she was the aggrieved party - and was well within her rights to boot him off her property - her godforsaken property?
He said he knew Ritvik. Mohini racked her brains but she couldn't recall her brother ever mentioning an Aalok - or a Mr. Ahuja.
Even if he was Ritvik's friend, her brother had no business foisting anyone on to her without her permission. Trust Ritvik to want to take care of all the wounded birds he came across - except that Aalok did not conform to that description at all. He was hardly bird-like and, if anything, he looked to be in rude good health.
Because she loved her brother despite his many shortcomings, Mohini reluctantly moved closer and took the proffered hand.
The large palm engulfed hers but the touch was surprisingly gentle for all the power and aggression the man had displayed earlier. Mohini had to stop herself from snatching her hand back. The man smiled, shrugging massive shoulders, and Mohini gaped in utter disbelief.
While his physique was worth gawking at, what held Mohini's shocked attention was the peacock painted on the T-shirt that he had on. She had missed it earlier in the confusion of their jarring encounter.
'What the ... isn't that my T-shirt?'
'It quite possibly is. I found it on the garden swing.'
He let go of her hand. 'My shirt was ruined. On my way to this place, I had a bit of a skirmish with an idiot driving a manic tonga.' His expression darkened for a minute, but then he rearranged his features, erasing the frown.
Mohini was still processing the information when the man walked away, befuddling her even more than she already was.
He indicated the stairwell, and took another two steps towards it. When she didn't follow, he turned back and quirked a bushy eyebrow. 'What? Still hung up on the T-shirt? Oh come on! I'll return it to you in good order. Or I'll get you one that's even cuter. My shirt was a serious mess - grease and sweat and dust - apart from the ripped shoulder seam. Oh, and coffee stains.'
He pointed hopefully towards the stairwell again, but Mohini shook her head. 'But my tee is twenty sizes too small for you...it's...you've stretched it all out of shape.'
If her behavior over the T-shirt was dogged in the extreme, his was unbelievable! It didn’t matter that this particular T-shirt was larger than the usual medium-sized ones she wore, or that it was one that she only wore to bed. Who picked up other people's clothes and ruined them without feeling remorseful?
He was so large and her tee so tiny, she could see a whole two inches of midriff. Even in the dimness of the closing day, what was visible was much too ripped for her peace of mind. She quickly moved her gaze up and away, back to his face. He was gaping at her as if she'd said something incredibly idiotic.
'This was better than nothing. Would you have preferred that I strut around half naked?' Aalok demonstrated it - he swaggered across the terrace with a languid hand on one hip, parodying a ramp walk, and the demonstration forced Mohini to raise both eyebrows. Her lips twitched but she was damned if she was going to grin at somebody who had mangled her once-favorite tee.
Aalok came back to stand in front of her and she caught a whiff of a spicy something. Rather nice - not what one would expect after the details he had shared. He certainly wasn't reeking of car grease ... or sweat. Mohini drew in a deep lungful without meaning to and her eyelids drooped.
He spoke
again, standing so close that a minty breath wafted over her, and her eyes shot open.
'I'm telling you my shirt was vile - I couldn't bear another second of it against my skin. Besides, there were hordes of women around - and this,' he tugged at the T-shirt, 'was the best I could do.'
Mohini moved away as casually as she could to reclaim her personal space. The breath she'd been holding escaped in a whoosh.
'Why didn't you unpack and get one of your own?' She arched an icy eyebrow at him. 'I presume you are carrying luggage? You don't plan on sharing my wardrobe, do you?
Aalok chuckled, surprising her – and the deep, warm timbre of his amusement contrasted sharply with her frosty tone. He walked up to where she stood fidgeting near the water tank, and merrily invaded her space again.
'Very funny! I didn't want to miss the sunset so I didn't stop to unbox my photography equipment. Instead, I ran on upstairs and took a couple of quick shots with a cell phone camera. The very phone that I must go look for if you're done interrogating me.'