Part 5
While the food was being placed on the table, Armaan watched as Shilpa finished her glass of wine and then poured another, wondering ' well, just wondering. He had no problem admitting he couldn't identify the emotional thing well at all, but he knew when a woman wanted him to kiss her, or vice versa. He knew. In all the years he'd been kissing girls, he'd never misread that one ' ever. Could he have misread this one? He wished the staff would finish up and get out of there so he could find out.
Nearly five minutes later, they were gone. Armaan turned towards Shilpa, who still wasn't looking at him.
"Whatever it is, I can take it," Armaan told her, despite that being a total lie.
"Whatever what is?" She asked, briefly glancing at him occasionally.
"Why didn't you kiss me back?" He wanted to know.
"Uh-"
"Speak, Shilpa."
"Don't talk to me like I'm a dog!" She snapped, and then reached for one of the lids covering a dish.
"No!" He said. "You're not eating until you answer me."
"You can't starve me to death because I don't want to answer your question," she replied.
"Wanna bet?" He asked.
"It's embarrassing," she frowned.
"What's embarrassing?" He took a few steps closer to her. "I thought you wanted me to kiss you. Why didn't you kiss me back?"
"I did," she tried to assure him. "I did want you to kiss me, but-"
"But?" He asked.
"Oh God," she murmured as she took another drink of her wine.
Armaan took the goblet from her and said, "Answer me."
"Please let me have one more drink," she pleaded.
"No," he replied.
"Ididn'tkissyoubackbecauseIdidn'tknowhow," she quickly spoke. "I've never been kissed ' by anyone."
"What?" He couldn't believe it.
She thought he hadn't heard her, so she spoke more slowly this time. "I didn't kiss you back because I didn't ' I don't know how," she said, reverting to looking everywhere but him.
"I heard what you said," he informed her. "I just don't believe it."
"You think I'm lying?" She asked.
"No." He had a confused look on his face.
"Then why don't you believe it?" She took a defensive stance as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I don't believe it because you're you," he said, gesturing towards her. "Did your dad keep you locked up or something?"
"Or something," she replied. "And just so we're clear, I haven't done anything else either. Do you still want to have dinner with me?" Where was she supposed to run to and cry out here? "Because if you don't, I'll understand." The tears that welled in her eyes spilled over and streamed down her cheeks.
"Why are you crying?" He asked.
"I'm not," she insisted, as she sniffled and quickly wiped her eyes.
Armaan set her glass down and said, "There's no reason for you to be embarrassed, Shilpa. So what if you've never kissed anyone or had sex? I've kissed and had sex with everyone."
"Everyone?" Her eyes widened.
"Not everyone, but more than I care to admit. It's actually one of those details I would have rather kept to myself," he told her. "Do you still want to have dinner with me?"
"Yes," she nodded.
"Good," he said, "because I still want to have dinner with you ' and tomorrow I'd like to go snorkeling with you, but later, after dinner, I'm taking a do-over."
"A what?"
"Forget that kiss," he told her.
"I don't think I can," she replied.
"Then maybe just shove it aside," he suggested, "because I'm going to give you a lesson in kissing you won't soon forget."
"Okay," she said.
"Okay," he agreed as he walked over and pulled her chair out for her. All that possessiveness he'd already been feeling was compounded. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head and said, "It's okay." He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze and then walked around to the opposite side of the table to sit down.
They ate in silence for several minutes before anyone spoke again.
"I can't say I blame your father for keeping you locked up." Armaan finally commented. "Although, he should have gotten over it a few years ago unless he's planning on turning you into a nun and sending you off to a convent. If that's the case, you should probably tell me now."
"I'm not becoming a nun," she told him. Although it would be preferable to what's waiting for me.
"For what it's worth," Armaan said, "Anything you say to me really would stay between us. I just feel like you're going to implode from whatever it is you're concealing, and that's not me trying to invade your privacy. I'm just concerned because emotional stress can cause health problems and so forth. You cry on a dime. You guard everything you say."
"It's complicated," she said, "and I'd rather keep it separate from you, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind," he replied.
"What do you like to do when you're not operating on people?" She asked.
"I'm always operating on people," he told her.
"Even on the weekends?"
"Sometimes," he said. "My preference is to always be in an operating room with a scalpel in my hand."
"Why?" She asked.
He pondered how he should answer that for a moment, but then honestly stated, "I don't have anything better to do."
"You don't seem very sad about that," she told him.
"It's just the way it is," he shrugged. "When a person decides to become a surgeon, a good chunk of their life is eaten up by school and residency. When I was twenty-one, I was in medical school. God, I barely remember twenty-one."
"Twenty-one is not pleasant," she said. "In fact, I haven't found an age I really like."
"What do you do when you're home?" He asked. "For fun? What do you do?"
"Fun is locking myself in my room, listening to my iPod, and surfing the Internet," she replied.
For the life of him, he could not figure out what her situation was. He couldn't put the few pieces of the puzzle he had together to form any sort of conclusion.
"You don't like being around other people?" He asked.
"I like being with you," she said.
"You know just what to say, don't you?" He smirked.
"It's still the truth," she replied.
"You're not being emotionally or physically abused are you?" He gently asked.
"No," she said.
"Are you afraid to go home?" He wanted to keep her talking, even if he had to ask questions that were more outside the circle.
"No," she replied.
"Do you want to go home?"
She started to speak, but then stopped herself. Then she said, "No."
He elected to stop the questioning there, before she bailed and said, "I don't want to go home either."
"You don't?" She asked.
"Not anymore," he replied. "We could stay."
"I can't," she told him.
"Why not?" He asked.
"I think we should just make the most of the time we do have," she replied.
"I intend to," he informed her, "but if you change your mind-"
"I ' can't."
He noticed she said can't again,instead of won't.
"Shilpa."
Her insides just melted every time he called her by that name.
"I don't care how long we have here," he told her, "but one thing I know for certain is that when we say goodbye, it won't be forever. In fact, I'm not even going to bother."
The remainder of dinner was relatively quiet as they chose only to speak through their eyes, neither really sure what was happening between them; however, both were well aware that something was definitely transpiring ' something indescribable, intangible ' and rare.
Later after the table was cleared and removed, Armaan and Shilpa spread out a large blanket on the beach. The night was too beautiful to go inside, so they'd ordered some dessert and bottle of Courvoissier.
"I've never seen so many stars," Shilpa commented as she gazed up at the sky.
"Do you normally pay close attention to the stars?" He asked, sipping his brandy.
"Yes," she said. "Some nights I sit by my window and stare out at them for hours."
"Why?"
"I don't know," she replied. "Sometimes I think they may have the answers to my questions."
"That's a copout," he told her.
"Why?" She asked.
"If you really wanted answers to your questions, then you'd ask someone who could answer you, rather than a bunch of burning balls of fire," he replied.
"Except that it doesn't really matter what the answers are because they won't change anything," she mildly snapped.
"I'm not sure who you're trying to torment more ' yourself or me," he said.
"I'm not trying to do anything to anyone," she replied. "I'm just trying to find a way to survive."
"Okay," Armaan said. "That's it. You've got five seconds to tell me exactly what's going on."
"Wrong," she replied.
"Wrong?"
"Yes, wrong," she said and then did the only thing she could think of to divert his attention. She simply pressed a single, soft kiss to his lips.
"That's not fair," he told her. "You can't just kiss me to avoid answering a question."
"You didn't ask me a question," she replied. "You demanded an answer that you're not going to get. If you can't live with that, then say the word and I'll go."
Armaan's mind was negotiating with itself until he saw Shilpa start to get up. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, quickly stopping her while mentally chastising himself. "You would actually leave?" He quietly asked.
"I have to do a lot of things I don't want to do," she replied.
He thought she looked as lovely as she ever had in the brief time he'd known her with her thick mane of dark, shiny hair, which skimmed the swells of her breasts. Her eyes were wide and innocent; her nose, charming, and full red lips that were begging to be kissed - lips that he could claim had only been kissed by his.
"It's still not fair," he quietly spoke as his hand moved to the side of her arm where one of the thin straps of her dress had fallen. He slowly pushed the delicate strap back onto her shoulder, giving her chills.
"Life isn't fair," she whispered.
"No, I guess it isn't," he spoke just as quietly, before brushing his lips across hers.
"I thought you were going to teach me," she replied, trembling, as he did it again.
"I'll lead," he told her. "You follow."
"But-"
With one side of her porcelain face nestled in his hand, he softly kissed her. He could taste the sweet elixir they'd been sharing upon her lips.
"I don't know what to do," she quietly told him.
"Yes, you do," he insisted as he kissed first her upper lip, and then her lower lip.
The extent of her kissing experience had been limited to kissing the cheeks of various people, most of whom she would have preferred not to have kissed at all.
"Relax," he spoke as he slipped a hand around her waist and instructed her to lie back onto the blanket.
"Why?" She asked, a bit panicked at being horizontal with him, though he was only lying beside her. Still she felt intimidated by his mere presence.
His hand returned to caress her cheek as his lips melded to hers, teasing her ' willing her to engage. He'd never wanted a woman to reciprocate his kiss the way he wanted Shilpa to. Normally, he didn't give a damn, but this was different. Whatever was simmering between them, he needed her to kiss him.
She had to admit it felt nice. It felt better than nice, especially when he slipped his tongue between her lips and swirled it about hers. The idea of someone sticking their tongue in her mouth always seemed a bit disconcerting, but this was heavenly ' pure heaven.
"Kiss me," he quietly rasped, as his lips continued to bestow the most wonderful sensations upon hers.
He waited patiently, their mouths separated by a few inches as Shilpa contemplated kissing him.
"Don't think so hard about it," he tried to encourage her. "Just do it."
Shilpa called upon the books she'd read, sliding her hand to the back of his neck and then pulling him down to her. The first couple of kisses were like sticking your toes into the water to make sure the water wasn't too hot or too cold, before you stepped all the way in. Satisfied it was safe to go in, while praying he wouldn't make fun of her if she turned out to be a decidedly bad kisser, she kissed him again.
Armaan was more than content to let her use him to figure it out. There was something quite humbling about being someone's first kiss, which naturally led to thoughts about other firsts; however, he forced himself to focus on the kissing.
"This seems so strange," she confessed.
"It won't after an hour or two," he told her.
"An hour or two?"
"Or longer," he smiled before capturing her mouth with his, and then kissing her in a way that left her no choice but to engage.
His hand moved to the smooth curve of her waist as he savored her lips, pleased when she began to mimic him. He was her mentor; she, his disciple. Armaan wasn't sure why, but that made him a little euphoric and aroused by the possibility that he could mold her into the perfect lover ' and he was getting off-track again.
"I like kissing you," she softly spoke, her voice laced with a sweet shyness.
"Feel free to kiss me anytime you want," he replied and then lightly traced her lips with his tongue.
She boldly met his tongue with hers while his hand dropped from her waist in favor of threading his fingers through hers.
"Can we stay here all night?" She asked, breathless, in the midst of the kiss.
"We can do whatever you want," he replied.
"I just want to kiss you all night," she told him.
He smiled and said, "I like that in a woman," as their mouths melded together once again.
Part 6
When Armaan opened his eyes as the sun began to rise over the ocean, he experienced, yet another first. Not only was he waking up with a girl in the morning, but also he was clothed ' and so was she. He supposed that was two firsts. Then again, there were a lot of firsts transpiring between the two of them, and it was all happening so fast that Armaan had barely had a moment to really attempt to process it.
He wasn't exactly sure what it was he was processing, considering he'd never found himself in a situation such as this one. They'd had an instant connection with each other that was intense and exciting and a bit terrifying.
Armaan had never been involved with a woman. Wait ' involved? Was he involved with her? He didn't know how to define it, but he'd never been anyone's first anything; yet, he was her first kiss. He wasn't sure why, but there was something incredibly humbling about that. It also made him strangely happy; whereas if someone had asked his opinion about kissing a girl who'd never been kissed or pondering the possibility of taking her to bed for her first time, he would have responded, Hell no. He didn't have time for feelings and fears and teaching anyone how to pleasure herself or him.
Shilpa ' Shilpa could change that; in fact, he was fairly certain his feelings about the whole thing were changing already. As he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest while she peacefully slept beside him, that fierce protectiveness returned. She truly was exquisite in every way and, yeah, had she been any other woman, they'd be naked and he'd be underneath that dress by now.
But she wasn't any other woman.
She was a twenty-four-year-old young woman. The women that age that he'd known when he was that age, and the women that age that he'd come into contact with since, were more experienced and not just sexually. At times, Shilpa seemed petrified of her own shadow. It was as if she was walking around in a portable prison cell, and he loathed that. Armaan desperately wanted to know about her life so that he could make it better, but she wasn't budging, and he didn't want to waste the short time they would have together fighting with her. Actually, he didn't mind bickering with her. She seemed most alive when she was annoyed with him ' like when he swore. He smiled.
In many respects, they were polar opposites. She had manners and ethics. He had manners and ethics too, but he used them selectively. She was angelic, while there was some devilishness to him. He wasn't a bad person. He didn't set out to be mean and obnoxious as he'd been portrayed at times, but he certainly didn't tow the line. He did his own thing, always staying true to himself. That was one of the things that resonated with him regarding Shilpa. It was clear that something or someone wouldn't allow her to be herself. She was playing a part ' not all the time, but certainly whenever the subject of her real life came up.
Armaan recalled the evolution of her kisses throughout the night. She'd gone from timid, to slowly gaining confidence, to more assertive. He hadn't been able to remember his first kiss or the awkwardness of it. It must have been awkward. Of course, he was him, and he'd always possessed a natural gift for all things physical, sexual. He just felt it, but again, he'd never felt anything like what he was feeling now.
Women were just women. At least that's how he'd always observed them. Sure, some stood out above others, but ultimately women had SEX, and and SEX was all that he required.
Not anymore, it seemed. Now, he required more, or at the very least he wanted more ' and he wanted it with Shilpa. It was as if she'd reached inside his chest and literally touched his heart. How else could she have taken ownership of him this way? Had she realized she'd done this to him? Was it her intention? Was she feeling the same about him? He was well aware that he was affecting her in some regard, and there was no denying all the things she'd made him feel with her inexperienced kisses. The crazy thing was that he loved the fact that she wasn't sure how to kiss him. She wasn't sure if she was doing it right while all that mattered to him was the fact that she was trying. She was trying for him, and no one had ever cared enough to try for him.
Shilpa began to stir in his arms, stealing him from his thoughts as he quietly spoke, "Good morning."
She opened her eyes, squinting a bit from the sunlight which was beaming in their direction.
"Good morning," she replied and then inquired, "We slept out here all night?"
"That depends on how you define slept," he told her.
"You didn't sleep?" She asked.
"On and off," he replied. "You slept."
"I suppose I did," she said. "In my dress."
"As opposed to out of your dress?" He smirked.
"Why do you do that?" She asked.
"I can't seem to help myself," he told her.
"Try," she said.
"I can't do that," he replied.
"Why not?" She wanted to know.
"Let me amend that," he said. "I don't want to."
"It makes me uncomfortable," she informed him.
"Why?"
"It just does," she replied.
"You can't fault me for visualizing you ' out of your dress," he quietly spoke.
"You're actually thinking about that?"
"Am and have been," he slightly smiled. "Is that not permitted where you live?"
"Is what not permitted?" She wanted clarification.
"Desire," he said.
She was beginning to perspire in places that normally didn't ' perspire.
"You're a desirable woman, Shilpa," he told her. "You have no idea how difficult it is for me to lie next to you and keep my hands to myself, but I'm doing it because I respect you."
"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate that."
"Thank you. I appreciate that?" Armaan responded with a quiet laugh. "No woman has ever said that to me, and you wouldn't be saying it either if you knew ' but you don't know."
"I don't know what?" She asked, fairly certain she was heading into dangerous territory, but apparently not caring enough to refrain from asking the question.
His blue eyes bored into hers as he explained, "You don't know what it feels like to be naked in someone's arms ' to be weighted down by a man's body or embrace him with your thighs. You don't know wh-"
"You can stop," she said, holding her hand up.
"I wasn't finished," he told her.
"Actually, you are," she replied as she quickly stood up and smoothed out her dress. "That's not respecting me at all."
He inwardly smiled, knowing he should stop, but he couldn't as he stood up as well.
"What are you doing?" She asked, mildly panicked.
"I was thinking I'd go back to my villa to shower and change," he replied.
"Oh," she said, relieved.
"You're welcome to join me," he offered.
She was no longer relieved.
"I could wash your hair for you."
"No! No, you cannot wash my hair, and I'm not going to join you." She was positively mortified.
"Shilpa, have you ever seen a naked man?"
Her mouth fell open, and finally he allowed himself to smile at her discomfort.
"I have to go," she said.
"So that's a no?" He replied, folding his arms across his broad chest.
She frowned at him and then began walking towards her villa.
"You forgot your shoes," he told her as he picked them up, allowing them to dangle on two of his fingers.
Her Valentino sandals. She had to go get them because, well, they were her Valentino sandals, so she turned back and walked towards Armaan.
"My shoes, please," she requested, holding out her hand.
"Are you mad at me?" Armaan smirked.
Ignoring the question simply because she didn't know how to answer it, she said, "Please give me my shoes."
"Kiss me," he stated.
"No," she stubbornly replied.
"No shoes then," he told her.
"You can't keep my shoes," she insisted.
"Why not?" He asked.
"Because they're my shoes."
"Kiss me and you can have the shoes," he told her.
"I don't want to kiss you," she replied.
"Coward," he said and held out her shoes to her; however, when she reached for them, he hooked his arm around her and pulled her into a kiss that did absolutely nothing to quell what he'd already stirred inside of her.
When he pulled back, she just stood there ' hypnotized, mesmerized, and exceptionally warm.
"Why did you do that?" She finally asked, taking her shoes from him.
"Because you wouldn't," he said, and for the second time inquired, "Are you mad at me?"
"No," she simply replied, "but you can't say those things to me."
"Why can't I?" He replied as he reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.
"You just ' can't," she said.
"You're censoring me?"
"Censoring? No, I'm not censoring you, but it's inappropriate for you to be speaking to me that way."
"It's inappropriate for me to tell you how I feel?" He asked. "I'm not allowed to fantasize about you and what it would be like to completely '"
"You're doing it again," she said. "You can't think those things about me."
"Would you rather I think those things about someone else?" Armaan anxiously awaited her answer.
The question alone made her stomach sick. "No," she whispered.
He closed the distance between them and said, "Shilpa, I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. I just have these really strong, intense feelings for you. I've tried to ignore them."
"Why?" She asked. "Why have you tried to ignore them?"
"I've been trying to ignore them because while a part of me knows you and I won't end here, there's another part that knows I could be wrong," He informed her. "We could end up a chapter in the Seychelles history. It's already been memorable, but I want it to be epic. I need epic, Shilpa. Don't you? I think we've both made it clear that home is not a pleasant place for either of us, so why shouldn't we take advantage of the passion that so obviously exists between us. I'm not talking about sex." He ran a hand through his hair and said, "I've had a lifetime of nothing, Shilpa. This is so different from anything I've known ' from anything I've ever thought possible, for me. If this brief moment is all I can have with you, I'll find a way to deal with it, but I need you."
"We shouldn't get too attached," she softly spoke.
"Too late," he replied just as quietly.
"I know." She looked out at the water.
He lifted his hand to her cheek and turned her face towards him. "You have to let me have my feelings," he told her, thinking he hardly recognized the man speaking the words. "As for our naked bodies, I'll try to tone it down, but I'm starting to believe that naked is what happens when words and kisses aren't enough." Now he was convinced he was acting totally like a pod person, but he meant every word just the same.
"That was a beautiful thing to say," she whispered, simply because she couldn't find her voice.
"It just sort of came to me," he replied, a bit embarrassed.
"It was authentic," she told him.
He silently nodded, uncomfortable with her understated praise.
"I don't know much," she spoke, "and outside of the romance novels I've tried to disappear into, I don't know much about relationships." She elected to leave that part of the conversation at that. "But, if my life were my own'" Her eyes began to pool with tears. "I would stay here with you forever. If that sounds nave, it's because that's what I am. I've been sheltered all of my life, learning only what my parents would allow me to learn. With you, I actually feel, and that means so much to me that you couldn't possibly understand." A tear escaped her eye and raced down her cheek. "This is going to end badly. There will be no happy ending. Do you really want to subject yourself to this, knowing that?"
"Yes," Armaan replied without any hesitation. "Do you?"
She nodded as she wiped her eyes and said, "Yes."
Part 7
Having resolved that, the conversation that followed was much lighter.
"What do you want to do today?" Armaan asked.
"What do you want to do?" Shilpa replied, knowing she already had something to do; although, it wouldn't be for the entire day.
He shrugged and suggested, "We could go snorkeling ' unless you dive."
"I don't dive," she replied, "and snorkeling would be lovely, except that I already have something to do today."
Armaan cocked his head and eyed her curiously. "What?" He wanted to know.
"Something," she replied.
"Is it something I can do with you, or is it something you have to do, or would rather do, alone?" He inquired.
She shrugged and said, "You could come with me."
"So if I do what you're doing today, you'll do what I want tomorrow?" He asked.
"That's fair," she said, but then nervous about his potential request, she began to speak again. "What might you have in mind?"
"I know what you're thinking," he smirked. "Try to have a little faith in me, please."
"Okay," she exhaled a bit.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Armaan asked with his hands on his hips.
"The spa," she smiled. "Manicure, pedicure, facial, body exfoliation, and massage."
"What ... like a day of beauty or something?" Armaan's expression was clearly one of distaste.
"Yes, that's exactly what it is," she smiled at his expression. "I believe there will be lunch as well."
"I'm not pretty enough?" He dryly spoke.
"You're very pretty," she quietly laughed. "So will you be coming with me, or not?"
"I really hate people's hands on me when it's for professional reasons," he smirked.
"What a scandalous thing to say," she told him.
"It was, wasn't it?" He proudly smiled.
"I really have no idea what I should do with you." She shook her head.
"Oh, I have more than enough ideas for the both of us." He continued smiling.
"Are you going to behave?" She asked.
"I don't know the meaning of the word," he replied. "Maybe you should explain it to me."
"I'm serious," she said.
"So am I," he told her.
"I know you have some manners," she replied. "I've seen them first hand."
"I don't suppose we can compromise about this, can we?" He asked.
"You're either a man of your word or you're not," she tried not to smile.
"Nice manipulation," he said. "Fine. I'll do it, unless'"
"Unless what?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"No waxing!" He just thought of that. "Absolutely NO waxing ' and I don't want to smell like a girl!"
"I'll call and let them know you'll be coming with me," she told him. "Meanwhile, you can go back to your villa and shower."
"Are you sure I can't shower here?" He asked, stepping closer to her. "With you?"
"I've already permitted you to step over the line with me." She started to put her hand on his chest, but then stopped herself.
"I wouldn't have stopped you," he smirked.
"I know you wouldn't have stopped me," she told him, "and please stop smirking at me. Go take your shower and meet me at the spa in an hour."
"I'll be there." He forced a smile.
"Okay," she replied.
"Can I at least kiss you goodbye?" He asked.
"You'll be seeing me in an hour," she pointed out.
"So?" He shrugged, moving even closer to her.
"I need to call the spa to let them know you're coming with me," she managed to speak before he brushed his lips against hers and then kissed her.
"I need you to kiss me," he replied, kissing her again.
"I am kissing you," she said.
"That's not completely accurate," he disagreed. "I'm kissing you."
How could he be kissing her mouth; yet, she was feeling it everywhere?
When the kiss ended she ironically asked, "May I go now?"
"You may," Armaan furrowed his brows. "You're doing a number on my ego, Shilpa from near Mumbai. No woman has ever walked away from me as quickly, or as easily, as you do."
She didn't even want to ponder that thought, so she merely smiled and headed towards her villa; while he headed in the direction of his.
When Shilpa exited the women's locker room wearing the same white robe that Armaan was wearing, he said, "Don't say I never did anything for you."
She gazed at him for a moment and replied, "You're a very handsome man, Dr. Mallik. I'm almost hesitant to let anyone touch you."
"Why is that?" He asked, more than happy to put his clothes back on and get the Hell out of there, but even more curious as to specifically what she was thinking.
"I ' I don't know why I said that," she shrugged.
"Yes, you do, and I want to know, so tell me," he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I just think you're perfect exactly as you are," she told him. It wasn't as if she could say she wished she could be the one touching him; the thought alone a major indiscretion, but there it was anyway.
The endless hours of kissing him had lit a fire inside of her and thus far she'd maintained control of it. She was positive she'd be able to maintain that control, but that didn't mean she wasn't thinking about it. The constant humming throughout her body wouldn't let her forget.
"Shall we go?" She forced herself to stop thinking about it, and for the moment it worked.
Until he backed her up against the wall directly behind her.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Do you have to know everything that's going to happen before it happens?" He replied.
"I ' no ' I just prefer to know so that I can be prepared," she said. Why did he make her so incredibly nervous? She wasn't afraid of him; yet, she was afraid of him.
"You can't be prepared for everything," he quietly spoke as his fingertips moved to her cheek. He certainly hadn't been prepared for her.
"Perhaps I can't be prepared for everything, but there's no harm in asking is there?" She inquired.
"There's no harm in asking, but what's wrong with a little surprise or the unexpected?" He replied.
"I don't have time or space for the unexpected," she told him. "My life is not set up that way."
"We've already covered this," he reminded her. "I'm not in Seattle, and you're not wherever it is you live, so for the time we're here together, there are no rules. You've made it clear that we're doomed, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to take full advantage while you're here with me. That's why I'm subjecting myself to this." He gestured to the space around them. "This is how you're spending your day, and I want to spend every second I can with you, Shilpa." He rubbed his thumb across her full bottom lip.
She could feel her body reacting. With the subtlest of looks and the lightest of touches, he could make her feel so much. Armaan Mallik was slowly bringing her to life in a way no man ever would again.
"You're a good man," she simply stated.
"No, I'm not." This time his thumb moved over both of her lips.
"Yes, you are," she disagreed.
He considered that thought for a moment and said, "You inspire me to want to be a better man, but what would be the point in that when we know we're going to crash and burn?"
She hated hearing him say that. It was difficult enough knowing it was the truth. The only good thing about it was that he'd obviously been paying attention to everything she'd been telling him. She had to confess that a small part of her wished he hadn't been listening at all; however, only in her dreams would that be okay ' and when it was time to leave this enchanting place, in her dreams was where he'd remain.
"We should go," she stated, feeling that whatever was ensuing between them at this moment, well, it needed to end.
"Okay," Armaan agreed, his fingers abandoning her lips.
Their first stop was the pedicure room where they were seated in comfortable chairs, which included heat and massage while the heated, bubbly water swirled about their feet.
In the meantime, it had gotten too quiet for Shilpa. "Why aren't you talking to me?" She asked. "Are you mad at me now?"
Armaan looked at her and said, "I'm not mad at you, and I'm not talking because I'm thinking."
"Can't you think out loud?" She asked, wanting him to talk to her, wanting to hear his voice.
"You want me to think out loud?"
"Please," she said.
"There are moments when I'm convinced that you and I are in exactly the same place'"
"We are in exactly the same place," she told him. "Well maybe not in exactly the same place, but close enough."
"I wasn't speaking literally," he said.
"How were you speaking?" She asked.
"Are you close to your parents?" He wanted to know. "Do you have close friends? Do people, in general, enjoy being around you?"
"My parents and I are close," she told him. "I don't have close friends, and as far as whether or not people enjoy my company, I suppose you'd have to ask them. Why are you asking me these questions?"
"My parents are close to each other, not to me," Armaan explained, "and if I'm willing to be demeaned, unsupported, and not respected, then I have a best friend. Women enjoy my company, but only for sex, or on occasion when they need something."
"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me," she said.
"I don't allow myself to get close to people," he replied. "I assume the worst about every situation and every person's motives. I don't trust easily, but then I never really put myself into a situation where it's necessary."
"Aside from the obvious, I'm still not following," she told him.
"You're the exception," he stated. "In record time, I've become attached, as you've called it, and I find myself both willing and wanting to get close to you. I want to trust you. I want to do these things, but you've consistently slammed the door in my face."
"That's not what I'm doing," she insisted. "I'm trying to prevent unnecessary pain and hurt feelings."
"It's too late for that," he told her.
"I thought we resolved this," she replied.
"It's resolved for you," he stated. "You're holding every one of the cards including the jokers. I don't know anything about you. I know your first name. That's the only thing I know for sure, but you wanted to know what I was thinking about? I'm thinking about the fact that you don't trust me. I'm thinking about the fact that I feel like I'd do anything for you. Most importantly, I'm thinking that ' if you felt half of what I feel for you for me, then you would trust me, Shilpa whoever you are. So once again, I've managed to put myself in the position of letting someone, no, inviting someone to play with me, knowing, I'm going to end up the blatant loser ' and you're probably wondering why I would do that, why anyone would do that, right?"
She gently nodded.
"I would do that ' I am doing that because I want to feel like someone loves me, if only for a little while."
"That's what I want too," she whispered.
"Then why can't you confide in me?" He asked. "Why can't you tell me what horrible fate is awaiting you at home? Maybe I can help you."
"No one can help me," she told him.
"Why are you doing this with me?" He really wanted to understand. "I know why I'm doing it. I've just told you why I'm doing it. Why spend your days and nights with me when there's apparently no chance for us at all?"
"I'm doing it for the same reason you are," she replied. "The same reason."
"I don't believe you," he told her. "You've given me no reason to believe you. I just want to know why it has to be this way. Just tell me why. Let me make an informed decision."
"How did this go from being acceptable to being unacceptable so quickly? This morning'"
"You're under my skin," he said. "You're in my blood. And I'm not sure how or why, but I know it's you. It's you for me, and I'll believe that until you tell me I can't. I need you to tell me why it can't be me for you."
"I can't," she told him. "I'm selfish and I can't." She was going to cry. She could feel the sadness building behind her eyes.
"There's nothing wrong with being a little selfish to make yourself happy," he replied.
"What if I'm being selfish at your expense?" She asked.
"Why don't you let me decide whether or not you're being selfish at my expense?" He suggested.
"If I tell you, then I can't pretend I'm someone other than who I am," she vaguely explained. "I can't acknowledge that I feel as much or more than you do without the guilt, knowing the size of the brick wall you're guaranteed to hit. We're both going to get our hearts broken." She sniffled as she wiped the few tears from beneath her eyes. "I'm just trying to ensure that yours breaks a little less, but if you really want me to tell you' If you really want this to be over right now, then I'll tell you ' and then I'll go home because I won't be able to stay here in your presence without crying every second of the day, knowing we can never be together. Is that what you want, because I'll do whatever you want?" She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe. "My fate is sealed, but yours isn't, and I already care more than I should, so if you want me to tell you'"
"No!" Armaan quietly exclaimed. "I don't want to be here alone, and anything less than being here with you is unacceptable. I'm not letting you go one second before I have to. In fact, consider yourself on notice. I'm never letting you go."
Part 8
Lying face down on the massage tables amongst the quiet setting, with only the softest nature sounds playing in the background, Armaan and Shilpa couldn't have been more relaxed. The masseuses told them to take all the time they needed and then left them alone.
Armaan could have done without the manicure, pedicure, and facial despite enjoying the massage portion of each; however, the massage he could definitely handle on a daily basis. He hadn't realized how tense he was in some spots until the masseuse dug into those particular areas on his neck, shoulders, and back.
Shilpa had enjoyed her massage as well. She'd needed an emotional break to clear her mind and spirit, and although it helped a little, Armaan's declaration that he would never let her go was rarely far from her thoughts. In fact, she'd gone back and forth thinking that, on the one hand, it had been the worst possible thing he could have said; yet, on the other, those five words he'd spoken were the most romantic she'd ever heard, inwardly making her positively gleeful.
"The problem with massage," Shilpa blurted out, "is that I never want to move after it's over."
"So don't move," Armaan's muffled voice replied, but then added, "You can join me over here if you'd like."
"I'm not wearing any clothes," she told him.
"Neither am I," he said. "What's your point?"
"My point is that I cannot lay with a naked man," she stated.
Armaan lifted his head and looked at her. "First, you'd never gotten naked with a man, and now you cannot? Why can you not?" He asked, mocking her formal speech.
"I just … can't," she replied, thinking she was well on her way to backing herself into a corner.
"There's an easier way to say what you want to say," he told her.
She lifted her gaze to his, curious as to how he was going to interpret what she'd said.
"All you have to say is, 'Armaan, I don't want to have sex with you,'" he said.
"That wasn't what I was saying," she quietly spoke.
"Oh, so you do want to have sex with me." His mood improved a little.
"I didn't say that either," she sighed, wondering how she continuously guided them back towards some form of this conversation.
"What were you trying to say then?" He asked.
"This conversation is inappropriate for me," she told him.
"Well, it's not inappropriate for me," he replied.
"We shouldn't be discussing sex at all," she said, laying her face back into the face rest at the top of the table, mostly to avoid having to look him in the eye and essentially lie some more.
"You can't hide your face forever," Armaan stated.
"I'm not hiding my face," she insisted. "I'm not hiding at all."
"You're a terrible liar," he told her.
Shilpa lifted her head and said, "I'm not a liar." Yet, she was lying. She was hiding … not because she wanted to, but by necessity; at least that's how she'd worked it out in her mind.
"Lies of omission are still lies," he replied.
"Can this relationship, or whatever you want to call it, exist without sex or the topic of sex?" She inquired.
"I don't know," he said. "Can it? You're the one calling the shots. You tell me."
"Are we going to fight?" She asked. "Because I really don't want to fight with you."
"What would you like to do then, Shilpa?" He replied.
She didn't like it when he called her Shona. When he used her given name, he was at least a little upset with her … and she didn't want him to be upset with her, not even a little upset.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't hear you."
"I didn't say anything."
In a fluid motion, Armaan pushed himself up and off the table, while she forced her face back into the face rest to avoid seeing him naked. He wrapped the towel around his waist and moved to stand directly in front of her.
"I can wait," he stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"For what?" She asked, unable to believe that anyone could make her forget herself so quickly and frequently. She had an answer for everything but she could never answer him, even if he asked her a question she knew the answer to.
"You're not a stupid girl, Shona-"
"Stop calling me that!" She snapped towards the floor.
"Just when I think you and I are taking a step forward, we take about five steps back," he pointed out. He then added, "I thought Shilpa was your name."
"Shilpa is my name, but I don't like it when you call me … Shona," she replied.
"Why not?" He asked, making a concerted effort to push every single one of her buttons. "Shona?"
"STOP IT!" She lifted her head and then requested that he please avert his eyes from her so that she could put her robe on.
Happy that he'd managed to fire her up a little, he acquiesced and turned away, while she quickly got off the table, retrieved her robe, and then quickly put it on before securing it with its belt.
"Are you decent?" He inquired.
"You're making me insane!" She turned to face him. "I'm not even sure that insane is how you would define it! I don't know what you're doing to me, but I don't understand it, and it would be nice if you could manage to be more considerate of my feelings!"
"Now I'm being inconsiderate of you?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," she replied. "You are."
"Are you listening to yourself?" He asked.
"Obviously," she frowned, wondering why he would think she couldn't hear what she, herself, was saying.
Referencing her previous statements, he replied, "I'm not doing anything to you. I'm just being me, while you're being whoever you are."
"Stop being facetious."
Her wringing her hands and inability to stand still didn't go unnoticed by him. She was en route to a nervous breakdown or a panic attack or something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"I'm not being facetious," he told her. "Nothing about this is amusing to me. I'm not amused. This face." He pointed to his face. "This face is not amused. I don't know what you think it is that I'm doing to you, unless you're feeling something you don't recognize?"
She prided herself on her ability to not show any emotion, so how was it he could see inside of her so clearly?
"I'm getting warm, aren't I?" He asked, taking a step closer to her.
"Why are you doing that?" She panicked. "Don't do that."
"What am I doing now?"
"I can hear you from where you're standing," she said.
"You may be able to hear me, but I'm not sure you're really listening," he told her. "I feel like you're just being amenable to get off the subject."
"What subject?" She asked as he continued to slowly approach her.
"You're starting to piss me off." His eyes were turning so that silver was the dominating hue.
"Don't swear at me," she said.
"I'm not swearing at you," he replied, "and stop acting like what's happening between us is only happening to you."
"I'm not," she quietly spoke, thinking it ironic how she felt intimidated by him.
"Has anyone ever told you that you fluctuate between woman and child?" He asked. "You're a little old to still be deciding which one you want to be."
"I'm not … deciding," she told him, "and I'm insulted that you would say that to me."
"Yeah, well I'm insulted that you can't tell me the freaking truth!" He snapped.
"Are you going to hurt me?" She asked, the fear visible in her eyes. She couldn't help it. She had to ask because she wasn't used to anyone speaking to her this way, and her heart was beating more rapidly than it ever had.
"Now, you're afraid of me?" He asked, just as quietly.
She'd never had to worry about security. There were people who took care of that for her, but now she was alone with this man for whom she'd grown quite fond of, too fond of, in a short time.
"Are you afraid of me?" He wanted to know. "Is that what all this is about?"
"You're always raising your voice at me … and you use those words," Shilpa spoke, her voice a bit erratic.
He hated the fact that she would feel the need to ask him if he was going to hurt her, physically or otherwise. He would never. He couldn't. "You're confusing the tone of my voice. That's not anger. It's passion."
"Passion?" She whispered.
"Yes," he simply replied, "and if you're thinking of telling me to stop it, you can save your breath because I couldn't stop it if I wanted to." He moved to stand directly in front of her. "You're a beautiful, intelligent, frustrating, mildly argumentative woman, and that's the good stuff. What have I done to you that's so horrible?"
"Nothing," she said, biting her lip in an attempt to prevent herself from crying.
"Nothing?" He asked. "A minute ago, you thought I was going to hurt you."
"You make me feel things that I am not permitted to feel," she told him. "You cannot make me feel these things."
"What things?" He asked, "And since when do feelings need permission?"
She looked at him with unshed tears in her eyes and said, "This was supposed to be a relaxing, non-stressful day."
"I'm not the one doing this to you," he said. "You're doing it to yourself. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. I want to, but you won't let me. Do you think I like watching you cry or seeing how unhappy you are?"
"I'm not unhappy," she insisted.
"You're a robot," he told her. "Why don't you trash whosever script you've memorized and use your own?"
"Because my life is not my own," she said.
"You're right," he agreed. "You're life isn't your own. It's mine now, too."
"No." She shook her head, though, she truly wished it was possible.
"Maybe you let other people make decisions for you, but the only person who makes decisions for me is me," he informed her as he slid his large, warm hand along the side of her neck, causing goosebumps to form all over her body.
"I'm not the only one who's not listening," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from his.
"I'm listening to you," he told her. "I don't give a damn about anyone else's opinion. You probably believe everything you're saying, but you're not selling it well at all, and I'm sure as Hell not buying it."
"Selling it?" She asked.
"You're not being very convincing, which is why you're frustrating me to an infinite degree," he replied. "What are you really afraid of, Shilpa?"
Momentarily glancing away from him, she mentally exhaled at hearing him call her Shilpa once again, but when her eyes returned to meet his gaze, she replied. "Everything. I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of saying or doing something wrong … or right. I'm afraid to speak, and I'm afraid to remain silent. I'm afraid to say no, but even more afraid to say yes. I'm afraid when you're this close to me but more afraid when you're not. And when you kiss me…"
She'd been unable to finish her thought as Armaan took possession of her mouth with his, and Shilpa made no move to stop him. She feared if given the choice, she would never stop him for any reason; although, she was mildly concerned that his towel might fall from its position on his hips … especially when one of his hands moved to rest just above her bottom.
Even more disturbingly pleasant, were his lips leaving hers in favor of the side of her face and neck, but only briefly until his mouth reacquainted itself with hers. It was then that she became a little nervous and pressed the palm of her hand to his chest. He reluctantly ended the kiss.
"We can't," she told him.
"I wasn't going there," he replied, kissing her once more, "and even if I were, I wouldn't do it in here."
"We can't … have sex," she forced herself to say the words.
"We … can do anything we want," he whispered, softly stroking her lips with the tip of his tongue, while struggling to keep his body in check.
"But-"
He kissed her fully on the mouth, blatantly seducing her despite knowing he wouldn't have the pleasure of her thighs wrapped around him anytime soon; but, he was content with that. For her, he could wait. For her, he would wait.
Part 9
The following day, it was Armaan's choice as to how he and Shilpa were going to spend the day, and he'd summoned her to his villa, which had immediately put her on edge … or notice. She wasn't sure which, but then he opened the door wearing only a towel, beads of water scattered all over the exposed part of his body, and a toothbrush in his mouth.
Shilpa, who was wearing a white Versace dress with purple butterflies, immediately folded her arms over her chest and looked at him disapprovingly.
"What?" He asked, although it sounded more like a grunt since the toothbrush was still in his mouth and his mouth was filled with toothpaste.
"I'll wait out here," she told him.
Leaving the door open, Armaan returned to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth before walking back to the door where she was still standing outside.
"What?" He asked again, and this time she understood what he was saying.
"Why aren't you dressed?" She wanted to know. "Are you trying to torture me?"
"Torture you?" He replied. "Why would I be trying to torture you?"
"Please get dressed," she requested.
He quietly laughed, and now he was the one folding his arms over his chest. "I would have been dressed if you'd come when I told you to."
God, she hated the way he could read her so clearly. "I'm on time," she told him.
"You're ten minutes early," he corrected her.
"Ten minutes would have made a difference?" She wasn't sure she believed him.
"I would have been dressed," he smirked.
"Yet, you're still standing here in a towel." Shilpa gestured towards him.
"Are you going to come inside?" He asked.
"No," she replied. "I'm not coming inside."
"Fine," he said and then stepped outside, quickly closing the distance between them as he wrapped her up in a kiss that literally took her breath away. But it was over as quickly as it had begun. "Good morning."
"Uh," she gestured towards her Versace. "I'm all wet now."
"I'm all wet now?" He asked. "I kiss you good morning, and you're freaking out about a few spots of water on your dress?"
"Now I'm shallow?" She replied.
"At the moment, yes," he said.
"Okay," she sweetly smiled. "Amuse me. What should I have done?"
"For starters, you should have kept me exactly where I was for at least a minute or two, and then I would have gently guided you inside my villa at which point those purple butterflies would have flown down around your ankles, and-"
"You're infuriating," she said, "but I suspect you know that."
"Lighten up," he told her. "I do it because you make it so easy."
"Then you're intentionally baiting me," she replied.
"Yep!" He smiled.
"That isn't nice," she simply stated.
"I'm not a nice person," he told her. "I'm going to get dressed now. You're welcome to watch."
She frowned, and he smiled before walking back into his villa while Shilpa remained outside despite her curiosity. Instead, she loudly asked, "Where are you taking me today?"
"I can't hear you," he continued smiling as he proceeded to get dressed. "You'll have to come inside."
"Forget it," Shilpa replied. "I can wait." She glanced down at the slowly fading spots of water on her dress.
Five minutes later, Armaan was dressed and closing the door to his villa. "Ready?" He asked.
"Yes," she said. "Where are we going?"
"Let's go," he told her, slipping his hand into hers as he led her to the main entrance of the resort.
Once there, a driver took them to the airport where they boarded a flight to Mahe.
"I hate small planes," Shilpa announced. Never mind she wasn't supposed to fly commercial, although, she guessed this leaned more on the side of private than commercial, but still.
"Twenty minutes," he told her. "That's it."
"Is he a real pilot?" She asked as the small plane took off and began its ascent.
"You want me to ask to see his pilot's license now?" Armaan smirked.
"I'm not ready to die," she whispered.
"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" He asked.
"I can't help it," she told him.
"You look stunning," he said not only because it was true but he wanted to distract her from her paranoia.
"Thank you," she replied, glancing down at her dress.
"I really wanted to go to Africa but it was going to be a royal pain in the ass to work it out so last minute, but I thought Victoria would make for a fun day," he informed her. "Maybe next time."
"Next time?" She turned to look at him.
"Yes," he spoke with quite conviction in his voice. "Next time."
"You know there won't be a next time," she replied.
"Keep telling yourself that," he said. "Just because you say there won't be a next time, doesn't make it so."
Shilpa wasn't given the opportunity to respond. Armaan's lips on hers didn't allow for it. She wanted to believe she'd maintained control of this situation, but the truth was that she didn't have control of the situation at all, and even more disturbing was the fact that she was reluctantly forced to admit that she never had it in the first place.
"You've really stepped in it this time," he smiled and kissed her again. "Your life as you know it, whatever that may be, is over."
She looked at him for a moment and then replied, "For what it's worth, I wish that were true."
"It is," he reemphasized. "I don't give a damn about what it is that you believe is standing in our way. I meant what I said before, and I don't say things I don't mean."
It obviously didn't matter what she said, so she replied, "Okay."
"I don't care if you don't believe me now," he told her. "One day you will."
He stared out the window for the short duration of the flight, while she silently watched him.
"This may very well be the most beautiful place on Earth," Shilpa commented as she glanced around at the small, yet tropical, city which included some charming architecture that reminded Shilpa of the Bahamas. There did seem to be a decidedly British flare to the architecture, a good example being a smaller version of Big Ben known as Little Ben, which sat in the middle of the city center.
"I can't argue with that," Armaan replied, as he scanned the area his eyes taking in the various types of trees, such as palm and other fruit trees.
"Every color is so vibrant," she said, "and everyone seems to be smiling or laughing. I can't imagine being unhappy here."
"Yet, you've managed to be unhappy here," he casually spoke, wishing he hadn't said it. He just hated the uncertainty despite feeling so certain … or trying to, anyway. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" She asked.
"Because I know this is a dead-end subject that won't go away," he said.
Shilpa softly laughed and replied, "If I know nothing else about you, I know that you won't be satisfied until this is settled one way or another."
"I've spent around a decade and a half longer than you being unhappy," he told her. "I'm finally inspired to get happy, and you won't let me."
"I won't let you?"
"You still don't get it," he said.
"Explain it to me," she replied.
Armaan seemed to be waging a losing battle but it didn't matter. It didn't change anything, at least not from his perspective, so why not tell her exactly what was raging through him now? He ran his hand through his hair and then down over his scruff, obviously uncomfortable as he spoke loudly enough for her to hear him.
"I'm falling in love with you," he told her. "Maybe you already know that. Maybe you're ignoring it or denying it. Maybe you don't know at all." He fully expected her to run screaming in the opposite direction at any moment but he continued. "I go back and forth with myself thinking that despite my strong belief that this would never happen for me, it is finally happening; however, the other part of me believes this is just a cruel twist of fate – payback for all the mistakes I've made in my life. The repercussions of all the pain I've caused other people, some whom were close friends … family even." He lightly scratched his ear, something he did when his nerves were getting the better of him. "I didn't come here for this. I didn't drag my ass halfway across the world to fall in love with a girl, and I definitely didn't travel this far to fall in love with a girl who doesn't even want me."
"That isn't true!" She told him.
"Isn't it?" He asked.
"No!" She loudly whispered. "It's not true at all. Wanting you isn't the problem. The problem is that what I want, and what I can have are mutually exclusive."
"Then you don't want it badly enough, and you sure as Hell don't want it as badly as I do," he said.
"You're wrong." She tried to make him understand, if only a little. "Actually, you're right. I don't want it as badly as you. I want it more than you. It's complicated."
"So you've said," he told her.
"I don't want to keep fighting with you," she said. "I would rather not be with you than argue with you about this all the time."
Armaan studied her for a moment and replied, "Fine."
"Fine?" She was wringing her hands.
"If you're not going to fight then neither am I," he said.
"You're just going to give up?" She asked, thinking she had absolutely no business saying that. She knew better.
"Oh," he replied coming to his own realization. "I see. You like the pursuit. That's it, isn't it?"
She was mortified and her expression showed it. "No, I do not like being pursued. What exactly are you suggesting?"
"You know … I don't even know." He shrugged. "And I don't know because I don't know anything about you, and apparently that's the way it's always going to be, so … I guess it shouldn't matter, and I shouldn't care, so I'm not going to."
"You're not going to what?" She asked.
"I'm not going to care," he said. "I'm done caring, Shilpa."
There it was again. Shilpa. Every time he said Shilpa she wondered if she'd ever hear him say Shilpa again.
She was a Malhotra, and she was not going to accept this. "Armaan," she began.
"No." He cut her off. Whatever it was, he didn't want to hear it. He'd heard more than enough. It seemed he wasn't as strong as he'd previously believed, rather, convinced himself.
"What happens now?" She asked.
"I don't know," he said, "but it doesn't matter."
"Stop saying that!" She snapped. "It does matter."
"The plane isn't scheduled to go back until late this evening," he informed her, "but you could probably catch an earlier flight … or I'm sure there's a ferry."
"You want me to leave?" Her voice cracked.
"You can do whatever you want," he said. "You're only here because I brought you here."
"Are you staying here?" She asked as tears flooded her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she wanted her mother.
"I don't know," he told her. "I don't know what I'm doing, but that's no longer any of your business, is it?" His voice was quiet, but not angry. Armaan wondered if she felt as badly as he did in this moment. This day that he'd been sure would be magical, was turning out to be anything but.
"Please don't leave me here," she quietly sobbed as she turned her attention to the ground she stood upon.
"If you want to go back, I'll take you to the airport," he offered, "or to the ferry."
"Please don't do this," she pleaded.
"It's already done," he said. "Decide where you want to go, and I'll take you there."
"Excuse me, sir," a woman spoke to Armaan who turned his attention towards her. "Would you mind taking a picture of my husband and I, please?"
"Sure," Armaan replied, as he quickly glanced at Shilpa who looked positively miserable. Too bad he didn't believe she actually felt that way. He then focused the camera on the couple and snapped a couple pictures.
"Thank you," both the woman and man said.
"You're welcome," Armaan forced a small smile before turning back towards Shilpa, who was nowhere to be found.
Part 10
Armaan quickly scanned the area for Shilpa, but when he didn't see her anywhere, he began asking people who were standing nearby. None of them had seen her.
"Damn it, Shilpa," he murmured with his hands on his hips. "Where did you go?" He stroked his scruff a few times as he pondered where she could have gone, hoping like Hell she'd gone of her own accord. "Shit."
None of the people standing around had seen her, but if she'd been taken by force, surely, they would have noticed that. He calmed himself a little and decided to just start looking himself, before even thinking about involving the local police. Armaan began walking along the street, entering every shop and gallery as he went.
While he was exiting one of the shops, his cell rang. Maybe it was Shilpa!
"Shilpa?" He answered, but then remembered he'd never given her his cell number.
"Who's Shilpa?"
"Hunt?" Armaan asked, recognizing his friend's voice.
"Yes, and again I have to ask," Owen replied. "Who is Shilpa … because I know Shilpa can't be a woman after listening to you go on and on about how you weren't involving yourself in any way, shape, or form with a woman while you were on vacation. That was you, wasn't it?"
"My intentions were good," Armaan sighed, and then said, "Listen. Maybe you can help me."
"That depends," Owen told him. "What did you do this time?"
"Long story," Armaan replied.
"I have time," Owen smirked, though Armaan couldn't see it.
"I don't have time," Armaan said. "Shilpa is a woman, but I've lost her."
"Already?" Owen asked. "You haven't even been there a week."
"Lost, as in physically lost," Armaan clarified. "She was just standing here with me when this woman asked me to take a picture of her and her husband, which I did. When I turned around, Shilpa was gone. You're good with computers. Isn't there something you can do to help me?"
"What … like tracking her?" Owen shook his head, amused. Armaan Mallik was never dull.
"Yeah," Armaan said. "Can you do that?"
"No, Mallik," Owen replied. "I can't do that. If you're really worried, notify the police."
"I don't want to involve the police," Armaan told him. "I just need to find her and beg forgiveness."
"You, beg?" Owen asked. "What did you do?"
"I'm not really sure," Armaan said, "but when I find her, I'm going to apologize first, and worry about what I did after."
"You're not going to need me to bail you out of jail over there, are you?" Owen wanted to know. "I've got a pretty heavy schedule this week."
"You're not helping," Armaan told him.
"I can't help you from here," Owen replied. "Do you at least know what she's wearing so you can ask around?"
"She's wearing a white dress with purple butterflies," Armaan immediately replied.
"Wow. You actually know what she's wearing. I'm impressed."
"I need to look for her," Armaan told him.
"Let me know when you find her," Owen replied.
"If I find her," Armaan sighed.
"You'll find her," Owen said, hearing the blatant concern in Armaan's voice. "Go on. Bye." He hung up.
Armaan lowered his phone from his ear and ended the call, before continuing his search for Shilpa.
Meanwhile, Shilpa had entered the art gallery of a French artist. She'd been raised with the highest appreciation for art and, as a result, she loved looking at paintings, photographs, and sculptures.
"Hello," a thirty-something man spoke to her with a smile.
"Hello," Shilpa replied, hoping she didn't look as miserable as she felt. If he'd noticed, he wasn't saying anything. "Are you Oliver Maslin?"
"I am," he smiled.
"You're the artist then," she stated.
"I am indeed the artist," Oliver replied, "and you look very familiar."
"I probably just resemble someone you've seen before," she told him.
"Or you're here on vacation, and trying to keep a low profile," he smiled.
Something about the way he was smiling at her put her at ease. "Yes," she said. "That's exactly what I'm doing."
"Well, I am honored that you would come here to look at my paintings," he pressed the palm of his hand to his chest.
"I loved what I saw in your windows," she replied. "I adore bright colors."
"You're in the right place then because bright colors are my signature," he told her. "Bright colors make happy people. Why don't you have a look around? I have a few paintings out back that I'd be happy to show you as well."
"The painting of the fish hanging," Shilpa said. "Do you think a man would like it?"
"A man painted it," he quietly laughed. "You're looking for a gift then?"
She thought about that for a moment, and then replied, "Yes. I think I am, and I'd like to buy that one, please."
"Wonderful," Oliver smiled as he removed it from the easel which held it. "I'll wrap it for you."
"Thank you," she told him.
"Might I ask a favor of you?" He inquired.
She looked at him with great curiosity in her eyes.
"Would you sign something for my daughter?" He asked.
"Of course," Shilpa smiled.
"Thank you so much," he replied as he gave her a postcard with his artwork on one side, one of the pictures being of the painting she was purchasing.
"What's her name?" Shilpa asked.
"Muskaan," he told her.
While Oliver proceeded to wrap her painting, she signed the postcard for Muskaan.
"I can have this couriered to your hotel if you'd like, so you don't have to carry it around," Oliver offered.
"I'm not staying on this island," she informed him.
"That doesn't matter," he said. "I can have someone take it via ferry or plane."
"I'm actually going back today, but if you wouldn't mind holding it here while I'm shopping…" she began.
"I can do that," he said, giving her one of his cards. "If you don't make it back while the shop is open, call me, and I'll meet you here."
"I don't want to trouble you," she told him.
"It's no trouble," he smiled and then asked, "Are you shopping for anything in particular? I could suggest some shops."
"Right now, I'd really like a glass of wine," she replied. "Where would you recommend I go?"
"I know just the place," he said.
Just over two hours passed when Armaan wandered into one of the restaurants. Despite it being early afternoon, the mood in this restaurant was already set for evening or so it seemed … but it was quiet, and quiet was good.
"Would you like a table, sir, or would you prefer to sit at the bar?" The hostess asked him.
"The bar," Armaan replied. He wasn't hungry. He just needed a drink.
"This way, please," she said as she guided him around the corner to the bar.
He thought that was odd since most bars always seemed to be out in the open. What wasn't odd, but instead more like a relief, was the white dress with purple butterflies that immediately caught his eye. Just when he'd been prepared to go to the police, he'd found her sitting at the end of the bar. The urge to run over and shake some sense into her for the way she'd taken off was strong; however, he didn't want to upset or anger her anymore than he already had. Still, he needed to make sure he wasn't imagining her there, so Armaan slowly made his way over to where she was sitting, her back to him.
Once there, he didn't know what to say so he gently laid his hand upon her shoulder. Shilpa didn't bother to turn around. The tiny bumps had begun to form on her skin before he'd touched her. Somehow, she'd sensed his presence, and her response was to lay her hand on top of his.
Armaan leaned down and kissed the top of her head before whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Shilpa."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she told him.
"I went too far," he replied.
"I know this isn't easy for you," she said. "It wouldn't be easy for anyone."
"That doesn't make my manic behavior okay," he stated.
"Strange as it may seem, I like your manic behavior," she told him as he moved to sit down next to her.
"Please don't ever do that again," he blurted out.
"Could you be more specific?"
"Don't ever take off like that without telling me … or taking me with you," he said. "You scared the shit out of me. I didn't know if you'd left on your own, or if someone had grabbed you. I've been looking for you for hours. Promise me you won't do that again."
"I promise I won't do that again," she said, thinking she'd promise him anything if she could.
"Good," he said. "You should also know I've made a decision."
"What decision?" She asked.
"I don't care who you are," he told her. "I don't need to know what your last name is. I don't need to know where you live. I don't need all the details. I just need you, so I was hoping that I could be Armaan, and you could be Shilpa, and to Hell the rest of it. There will be no more inquisitions about anything. You have my word."
"Okay," she agreed, "because there's no one I'd rather be than Shilpa … with Armaan, and I mean that."
"That's good enough for me," he said. "Oh, and I'm officially taking any possibility of a sexual relationship off the table, so you can relax. I can't promise there won't be innuendoes, because it's just what I do, and I've been doing it too long to change now."
"I wasn't worried," she told him. "I trust you."
"I feel the need to inform you that you trusting me makes you certifiable," he slightly smiled.
She merely shrugged and then leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry that I worried you."
Armaan glanced at her glass and then back at her. "Are you drinking scotch?"
"I tried," she told him. "It was positively awful."
"You always drink wine or champagne," he said. "Why would you drink scotch?"
"Scotch reminds me of you," she explained.
"I'm going to give you some free advice," he smirked. "Just because something reminds you of me, doesn't mean you should do it."
"I don't like the taste of it, but its scent isn't too bad as long as I don't get too close," she replied.
Armaan was about to say something relevant to tasting, smelling, and getting too close but instead, he ordered her a glass of red wine and a Chivas for himself.
"Don't let me forget," she began. "Before we go back tonight, I have to pick up a painting I bought from an art gallery."
"You bought a painting?" He asked.
"I did," she replied.
"A painting of what?"
"I can't tell you," she said.
"I don't suppose it's a painting of you, naked."
She tilted her head a bit to the side.
"I told you I couldn't help it," he replied. "It's a genetic defect or something."
"It's not a painting of me in any form, but it is a gift for you," she informed him.
"For me?" He asked.
"I seem to think of you more when I'm not with you," she said.
"You didn't have to buy anything for me," he replied.
"I wanted to give you something that you'd see every day to ensure you'll never forget me," she confessed.
"Impossible," he told her. "That'll never happen." He smiled. "You can't forget someone who's always going to be in your life."
"You've promised no more inquisitions, but you're clearly not giving up." She was smiling as well.
"Clearly," he said before kissing her again. "Are you mad? Disappointed?"
She caressed his jaw with her fingers and replied, "I'm not sure I could ever truly be mad at you."
"It's easy … so I've been told." He covered her hand with his, enveloping it in hers as he gently lowered it from his face.
"Time is too precious to spend it being mad," she said.
The bartender set a goblet of wine and glass of scotch down in front of them.
"I do love wine," Shilpa smiled as she picked up the goblet. "A toast."
"We do like to toast, don't we?" Armaan picked up his glass.
"To Armaan and Shilpa," she said.
"To Armaan and Shilpa," he repeated.
Their eyes never wavered from each other's as they sipped their drinks.
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