Raizada & Raizada Co. Ltd - Thread 1 (Link to Thrd3 Added)

Chapter 1 - Damndest!

She took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Cindy was in a closed plastic pet basket at her feet. Khushi couldn't leave her in her car in case her kids were coming. She didn't really know how much time was left for the birth as she had found the tabby only two days ago when she had arrived in London.

She had been casually strolling in Central London with her friend, near Thames River, when the meows had caught her attention. She found the enormous pregnant cat on the edge of the steps that fell into the deep green waters and rescued it.

The door was opened by a young woman, around her age brown hair arranged into a bun and held back strictly by a metal hair-band, fair complexion, grey-green eyes, an arrogant pink pout and a mean expression. Khushi tried to smile but the woman narrowed her eyes at her suspisciously.

"Hi, I'm Khushi Raizada," she tried.

Whatever the expression which was pasted on the woman's face, it quickly changed to disgust. She thinned her lips and gestured Khushi to follow her. The girl hastily picked Cindy's basket and hurried behind the woman as she sashayed into the large house. They entered a study and Khushi deposited the basket by the door.

"Darling, your cousin is here," the woman announced.

The black leather chair before them revolved and Khushi was met with another icy cold stare. The dark eyes were like chips of granite. They held so much anger that if they had the power, she would have been reduced to ashes. The man - her cousin, she supposed - stood up tall and walked around the desk to set himself opposite her.

"Arnav," he growled his name. "Arnav Singh Raizada."

He had said it in a way she almost expected him to add a cliche filmy villain-type dialogue. Her brow shot up as her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say her name too but it seemed he had not finished yet.

"This is Sheetal Kapoor, my fiance and future business partner," he went on.

Khushi frowned at glanced at the woman who had 'welcomed' her. "Business partner? Lekin yeh to family business hai, na?" (...But this is family business, isn't it?)

"Tha!" Arnav told her coldly. "We don't want you in the business. Get that in your head. You'll be selling your shares to Sheetal and anyway, she'll be getting married to me and we can take care of the business all by ourselves." (Was!...)

The slap of rejection was hard on her. The smile she had managed to keep on her face all along slid off and the tears came up as a bruise. Was her mother right then? Were they only ever going to get hatred and rejection? Khushi clenched her fists at her sides and she gritted her teeth together. No. She could not give up. She had to forge herself a place and this family as she had promised her father.

"Well, thank you very much for the offer, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada. But I want to be in this business and I will stay in it! The shares are something I got in heritage and I respect my great-uncle's wishes to join the business he had set up," she retorted with equal warmth as he had.

She saw her cousin's eyes darken in black fury and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "Quote your price. We'll pay you double the amount."

"And I am not interested in your money!"

They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes and she noticed Sheetal had paled. Surely her fiance's anger was frightening her but Khushi would not let herself pinned down defencelessly by that. She had a goal to achieve, so she would do it till the end!

"Fine!" her cousin growled fiercely. "Try to! The business will itself drive you away. You know nothing about it. It's worse than hell. We were just trying to help."

"Have you seen hell to compare it with the business?" Khushi scoffed. "And maybe it's hell for you, Mr Raizada. It doesn't apply for everyone."

He could be breathing fire, smoke could be coming out of his ears. Arnav Singh Raizada was turning red. And on the inside, she had started enjoying herself!

"You have a place where you can stay?" he gritted out. This time, his voice was strangely laced with a suspicious tone of dangerous calmness. She shook her head in confusion. An evil sneer appeared on his face. "Fine. Sheetal, that holiday cottage your parents have? It's free right now, isn't it?"

The woman shrugged. "Yeah."

"Okay, so, she'll stay there!" he announced.

For a second there was a flicker of concern on Sheetal's face. "But Arnav, isn't that quite far away? She could stay in your apartment while you shifted home! Dad has always been saying you're the most welcome-"

"Sheetal!" he glared at the poor girl. "Speak to your dad and ask him if it's okay if she stays at the cottage!"

"My name is Khushi! Khushi Raizada!" she interrupted quickly. It was very unnerving to be referred as 'she'. It felt like she was an object or something.

Arnav rewarded her with a stony scowl. Kind of a don't-you-dare-argue look, from which Sheetal benefitted equally. Khushi glared back stubbornly. What did he think? He'd yell at her, insult her, be pessimistic and lodge her somewhere far from town and she'd give up?

Well, no, Mr Raizada! Try however hard you try, Khushi Raizada is not going to lose so easily. It's going to take you more than that!

"What's that basket?" Sheetal yelped, disgust evident on her face. In response, Cindy emitted a painful meow.

"Oh! That's my cat!" Khushi smiled. "Actually, she's pregnant, so I couldn't leave her in the car, you see."

Sheetal winced and sneezed loudly. Arnav shoved a box of tissues in her hands and she left immediately.

"Inhein kya hua?" Khushi thought, her mouth upturned again. (What happened to her?)

"Keep your cat away from her," came a loud bark which made her jump her eyes wide. "She's allergic to animals."

"How come she's with you then?" she muttered under her breath.

"S'cuse me?"

"Nothing."

He grunted and glanced at the basket before continuing to burn a hole in the top of her head with his fiery eyes.

"Get in your car, I'll drive to the cottage."

She scrunched her eyebrows together. "Has Mr Kapoor already-?"

"He can't say no to me. Now, hurry up! I don't have all the day ahead!"

***

Sheetal had been wrong when she had said the cottage was quite far away. Totally wrong. Because the cottage was extremely far away, it took almost a whole hour to reach there by car and they had still not reached the harsh part of winter. Once there was snow fall it would surely be more difficult and judging by the road's condition, Khushi doubted that someone cared to clear the snow up here.

So, her cousin was determined to make her disgusted with this place and the business, wasn't he?

"You'll be staying here," he told her drily. "You have water and electricity facilities and I hope you've got your mobile because there is no landline here. If there's anything you need let Sheetal know. Don't disturb me. And yes! I'll be expecting you to be at the office by eight tomorrow morning."

He tossed the keys at her and drove away without replying to her farewell. He hadn't even gotten down to open the house or help her with her luggage. Mr Royalty Raizada had stayed perched in his SUV. Jerk! Duffer! Laad Governor!

He was definitely not a person who would be difficult to hate!

Chapter 2 - Mahabharat

"Good morning!" she said cheerfully as she walked into the office. She had expected Sheetal to be there too, but she only found her tetchy cousin there.

He didn't bother to respond to her greeting but glared at her with murderous eyes instead. "You are three minutes late!" he bellowed.

Seriously? Did some simple, three minutes matter so greatly right now? What was she supposed to be doing? Save the freaking world?

Khushi sighed derisively. "My cat-"

"I'm not interested in the animal," he countered coldly, his eyes still on her as if he would be gathering enough power to shoot her dead through them. "But if you are interested in this company, you better do as you are told to."

She opened her mouth to protest but Arnav had not finished. "And don't try to argue with me, or you'll be the most sorry. I want you to be here on time, you follow my orders."

"Excuse me? Follow your orders?" Khushi retorted hotly. "Since when are you my boss to give me orders? As far as I know, we both own thirty five percent of the company's shares! That makes us equal!"

Arnav sneered at her in pure devilment as he stood up lazily, then pressed his fists against the desk to lean closer to her. "Maybe, but what you are perhaps forgetting that compared to me, you have absolutely no experience, which gives me a higher standing than you."

She glared at him with disgust. She had hoped that maybe, he was just trying to show himself difficult on the first day, that he was nothing she couldn't bear with but this man was a sadist! And from the vibes he gave off, she was sure he was not sad about it. It would be difficult to work with him, but she would struggle past any hurdle to get her rightful place in this family, like she had promised her Bauji.

"My CV," she told him curtly, slapping the light blue folder on his desk. He sat back in his chair and eyed her with disdain.

"I won't need it," he dismissed her coolly.

"But-"

"Arnav Singh Raizada does not need a CV not recognise people. Your family background tells enough for you."

That stung but Khushi swallowed the hot ball of fury that was rising up her gut. She lifted her chin and steeled herself to indifference. "Where do I start for today?"

"Go to the depot, Mr Mehta is waiting for you there. He'll be briefing you about the work done there," he instructed apathetically.

"Fine!" she took her CV and stomped out of the wretched office.

***

"Hello. Mr Mehta?" she asked the elderly man who stood outside the storehouse.

He smiled at her and shook her hand vigourously. "Manohar Mehta, Arnav's Mamaji. And you must be Khushi?"

"Oh? You know my name?" she raised her brows sardonically. "Because if that monster is really your nephew, he does not seem to know it!"

It was only when the words had left her mouth that she realised she had been rude. This poor man did not deserve her discourteous words simply because his nephew was a first-class jerk. But he took it lightly and laughed.

"I see you've just met him before coming here."

"I'm sorry, uncle. I-"

"I understand, beta. And call me Mamaji. Uncle sounds too old."

Khushi giggled as they walked in the building. He showed her several things, explained about the jobs they did here, introduced some of the workers. She noticed many were Indians and Manohar told her more than half the population of the little town consisted of people from India. After some four hours of touring, he directed her to the cafeteria for a little break.

Meanwhile she had also learnt that Arnav's uncle was a bachelor. He had apparently never found the right girl and had grown old without getting married, but he had told her the loneliness didn't perturb him. If possible, he preferred being alone.

"Manoharji, aaj aap kya lenge?" a woman of around in her early fifties demanded him, fluttering her eyelashes comically at him. Khushi smiled, realising the woman was smitten with him. (Manoharji, what will you have today?)

"Manorama!" he called her casually, barely noticing her advances. "Yeh Khushi Raizada hai, Arnav Bitwa ki rishtedaar. Kal hi company join kiya hai Bitiya ne. Aur Khushi, yeh hain Manorama Dholakia. Yeh canteen sambhaalti hain." (This is Khushi Raizada, Arnav's relative. She has joined the company only yesterday. and Khushi, this is Manorama Dholakia. she handles the canteen.)

The uncle placed the orders and joined Khushi at the table while Manorama went in with a heartbroken face.

Khushi chuckled. "Mamaji, humein lagta hai voh Auntyji aap par lattoo hain!"(Mamaji, I think that Auntyji has a crush on you!)

Manohar's ear went tomato red. "Nahin, nahin! Aisi koyi baat nahin hain!" (No, no! It's nothing like that!)

When Manorama returned this time to give them their coffees, Mr Mehta blushed deeper and Khushi could barely contain her amusement. She hid her smile by raising the mug to her lips.

"Bohot gussevaala hai, na?" Manohar asked offhandedly. (He's really angry, isn't he?)

She frowned. "Kaun?" (Who?)

"Arnav," the old man smiled knowingly. Clearly, he was referring to her reaction earlier. "Bilkul apne baap pe gaya hai yeh ladka." (Arnav. He's just like his father.)

"Sirf gusse aur akkad ke maamle main hi nahin," Khushi grumbled. "Lekin nafrat ke maamle mein bhi." (Not just concerning the arrogance and anger, but also for the hatred.)

He shook his head. "Patience. If you remain patient, he'll soften."

"You think so?" she rejoined, her voice straining with anger. "He never leaves an occasion to insult me or my family. He always looks at me with strong hatred. He... he's so frustrating."

He shook his head with a small laugh. "He might be like his father, but he's also my sister's son. And Khushi, you've known him for hardly more than a day. I know him since he was born. He can he nice... when he wants to."

She clenched her jaws together. "But why so much hatred? Just because my Papa was-"

"That is an old story, Khushi. And I understand you are trying to bridge the gap that was in the family since so many years ago, but old habits are hard to let go of. Arnav was brought up being taught to hate your side of the Raizadas. You'll need to be patient if you want to fill the cracks."

Khushi licked her lips thoughtfully and stared at her coffee. "Papa used to say, in our family, it's like the Mahabharat."

"Let me guess," Manohar sniggered boyishly. "Arnav represents the Kauravs and you the Pandavs?"

She laughed embarrassedly. "Well, when Papa used to say it, it used to be about uncle and him. But... I guess for the current situation, you might be right."

He widened his eyes with another sip. "You think I'm playing Shakuni?"

"No!" Khushi giggled. The uncle was so much more amusing than the nephew.

But he shook his head. "Sorry, beta, I'm not the Shakuni here. But there is one..."

The girl looked at him in astonishment.

"Sheetal," he explained. "Beta, dekho, main jaanta hoon ke Arnav ko tumhaara yahaan hona achha nahin lagta aur voh yeh bhi chahata hai ke tum apne shares Sheetal ko do. Lekin, please... aisi galti mat karna... tum hum sab ki aakhri ummeed ho." (Beta, look, I know Arnav doesn't want you here and he also wishes you'll sell your shares to Sheetal. But, please... don't do such a mistake... You are our last hope.)

Khushi scrunched her brows together. She could not understand what Manohar could be meaning by this. Weren't Sheetal and Arnav getting married?

"Sheetal can act like a lamb in front of Arnav, but that's not who she is at all. She just thinks that this business is a major waste of time, but for Arnav, and for her. Her father is very rich," Manohar explained in a low voice. "And he owns large industries. They both want Arnav to leave everything and handle the Kapoor Enterprise after marriage. Once you sell your shares to her, she will have the power in her hands. She'll close Raizada & Raizada down. Most of the people in town work for us, beta. We'll lose our jobs, even me... So, please, promise me you'll never let us down?"

Chapter 3 - The Crushed Cherry Heart

"But why would she do something like that?" Khushi gasped in awe. "Doesn't she love him?"

Manohar laughed drily. "They don't love each other. They were classmates during their university years and they dated after that. When your great-uncle, Rishiraj, passed away, we lost many clients. Then Arnav shouldered the responsibilities but the damage was already done. The company had lost a lot of money. Mr Kapoor is very rich. Arnav saw a way to haul the company out of this mess, so he proposed to Sheetal."

Khushi frowned. She still could not understand why two people were getting married if they just intended to use each other. Wasn't love necessary? Didn't it have any value?

"Mr Kapoor was equally worried for his company. Sheetal is his only child and when Arnav decided to marry her, he found his way out too. Arnav is very intelligent. He could be doing anything with that IQ and sharpness he possesses, but that boy is more attached to his family than anything. It's not about the love or anything, he's concerned about the name. He does not want the company his grandfather's brother had strived so hard for crumble in front of him. He is very stubborn."

She sighed. "How come the company is still in this state? If he's so intelligent, things should have gotten better, right?"

"This is antiques business, Khushi," Manohar gave her a strange smile. "Things are not so easy here."

***

She was still wondering about what Mamaji had told her some time ago when she walked up the stairs to Arnav's cabin.

"You'll start at the depot tomorrow."

"Sorry?" she jerked out of her thoughts at his loud order. He was standing right in front of her, as angry as he had been both times she had seen him before.

"Mujhe orders repeat karne ki aadat nahin hai, samjhi tum?" he hissed seethingly. "You'll be working for a week at the depot. Tomorrow you'll start in the packing sector, then you'll climb up eventually. And if you have no questions, you leave!" (I'm not used to repeating orders, you get that?)

Khushi gaped at his audacity. The jerk! How dare he talk like that to her? "Why packaging? I can start in the adminis-"

"Shut. Up." He glared at her darkly. He had spoken with a deathly-dangerous calm that sent a shiver down her spine. "As I told you this morning, you are to obey me."

"But-"

"Don't try to teach me business!"

"Bahar voh laal gaari kiski hai?" a female voice interrupted their argument. Sheetal appeared in the office doorway, making Khushi feel relieved for a second. Thank God she had come, at least the Raakshas would spare her now that his woman was here, dressed in that skimpy nude pink coloured dress. But her relief was to last only a moment. (Who does that red car outside belong to?)

"Ji, humaari hai," she replied. (It's mine.)

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Khushi," Sheetal chirped, as she strode in to smack a kiss on each of Arnav's abrasive jaws, with a mean, not-so-sorry face. "Actually I think you might have parked it wrong because when I was parking my car, it got into the way and..."

"What?" Khushi spluttered. Without waiting for a response, she ran downstairs, out on the street to see her darling gem... ugh! Not such a gem now. She staggered towards her car, what remained of it to be more precise, her hands clapped tight on her mouth to stop the outflow of curses she had only heard but never used. Now, the sight before her made her want to swear and beat the crap out of that-

Arrgh!

It looked like that massive revolting gold SUV of Arnav's fiance had pushed hard into her little cute car's rear end so that more than half of it was crumpled. Her hands balled into fists as she felt her cousin and that ass-wipe-of-a-fiance he had come out behind her. God damned people! They should thank their deities she didn't kill them. Instead, she turned to the couple, firing a 'you-disgusting-piece-of-shit' look at them.

"Don't worry," Sheetal told her unflappably. "I've called the mechanician. They are on their way to pick up your car. They'll do what they can."

"I. Have. No. Means. Of. Transport." Khushi gritted out, trying to swallow her destructive anger. She could keep it aside for later, when they crossed their limits, not now. But crashing her car, her darling car on which she had spent all the money from her part-time job, her cutie pie for which she had nearly broken her bones after school hours.

"I'll drop you home," Sheetal nodded most innocently.

"And how do you expect me to be at work tomorrow morning?" came the screech from a red-faced Khushi.

"Arnav can pick you up!"

The man's head snapped to his fiance. "What the-? Have you gone bonkers?" it was his turn to shout now, but then, Khushi wondered, when did he not shout? "The cottage is not on my way!"

"Look!" Khushi raised her hand to shut them both up and sighed. "Just... just... just get lost both of you!"

***

She was sniffling in homage to her car as she walked back home when a black BMW stopped level with her. She didn't need to look up to know who's it was.

"Get in," came the growl. "I'll drop you home."

She turned a deaf ear to her oh-so-dear cousin and walked ahead, secretly wishing she could disappear into the night or that the pavement would open up beneath her and engulf her.

"Hey! Are you deaf?"

"And do you suffer from short term memory loss?" she finally yelled back. Thank goodness the road was deserted. Khushi picked up speed immediately.

"What the-?" she heard him stop his car and get down. Suddenly, there was an acute pain in her elbow where he had gripped her hard to spin her around. "Don't talk to me like that!" he snarled, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Why should I not?" she countered. She knew very well that her 'adorable' cousin was seething but she could not care the least milligram! She had just seen her car reduced to a... a useless pile of scrunched up metal. She had more rights to be more than seething, hadn't she? All because of that bitchy witch he was getting married to! And that too for money, money he could himself earn if he used his brains!

"Sheetal said she was sorry okay! Itna over-react karne ki koyi zaroorat nahin hai!" (...You don't need to over react so much!)

"Over-react? You bloody blasted empty head!" she yelled at him, losing it. "You know how hard I had worked for that car? That..." Don't say bitch, don't say bitch!"That... that woman of yours ruined it completely!"

Arnav's eyes hardened with icy loathing. "Get in the car silently!"

"Hey, hello? Didn't I tell you just a while ago to get lost, you and that cow?"

"How dare you talk to me like that? Just get in the car, dammit!" he roared, though without having any of the desired effects on his 'very-abiding-by-the-orders' cousin.

"I won't! What will you do? Aur aapko itna bhi kyun farak padta? Hum jaise bhi jaayein, jahaan bhi jaayein, usse aapka koyi matlab nahin!" (...Why do you care? I go wherever I want, however I want, it means nothing to you!)

He clenched her upper arms hard, so hard she wouldn't be surprised to wake up with purple marks on them the next morning. "Vaise to mujhe farak nahin padta ke mere aage peechhe kya hota hai," he rejoined icily. "But right now, I do care for the simple reason that you own thirty-five percent of the shares of my company! Once you've sold them to Sheetal, I don't care whether you live or die. You get that?" (Normally I don't give a shit to what happens around me...)

She felt herself being pushed away roughly. He reeked of revulsion for her. Khushi tried to keep the hurt at bay but it managed to bolt in and rub pointy crystals of salt on her wounds. Tears pricked at her eyes, disarming her pride at once. Arnav had stomped to the other side of the car and held the door open for her silently. Sensing that she had no other way, she gulped down her self-respect and got in.

Chapter 4 - The Golden Revenge

"I really am sorry again," Sheetal shrugged while trying to get her over-sized vehicle out of the cottage's narrow driveway.

Khushi stared out of the window in silence. She didn't want to listen to this woman, forget acknowledging her apologies. She had been sure that after their fight on the streets the previous night, Arnav wouldn't come to pick her up for office. Well, in any case, he wouldn't have cared more. But she was surprised to see his fiance at her doorstep this morning, saying that he had told her to drop his cousin at the depot.

"So, you're going to use my car," Sheetal went on, regret heavy in her voice but Khushi knew it wasn't regret for bumping her car.

Khushi ogled at her in surprise. "And you?"

"Oh, Arnav hai, na? I'll take a lift from him!" (Oh, Arnav's there, right?...)

***

"How dare you?" he roared the moment she stepped inside his office that afternoon. She jumped despite herself, eyes wide.

Arnav advanced on her, fury emanating profusely through his eyes. "Maine tumse kaha tha kaam karne ko! Not to take over the depot, dammit! How dare you order my workers?" (I told you to work!...)

She steeled herself and set her lips in a thin line. "Haan, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada! humne yeh jurrat ki hai! Toh? Kya karleinge aap? Yeh company sirf aapki nahin, humaari bhi hai. Iss company ki co-owner hone ke saath saath, humein yeh bhi hak milta hai ke hum voh karein jo iss company ke faayde mein ho!" (Yes, Mr ASR! I dared to! So? What will you do? This company is not just yours, but mine too. Being the co-owner, I also have the right to do what I want for the company's progress!)

He stared back at her seething. "Listen, you," he spoke with deadly calm. "I don't give a damn about you, your ideas and anything else. You are just doing what I want you to. Tomorrow morning, I want everything back as I had set it and you working like I told you to. And this is not a request. It's an order."

If he had meant to scare Khushi, he just had to try harder because she squared her shoulders firmly and made eye contact with those smouldering eyes without flinching. "I'm sorry. But it's not going to work that way. I have a plan in mind. Let me work it out. I know you want to take this company back to where it was, or possibly higher. Just let your arrogance down and let me help."

"I don't need your God damned help, you understand?" he snarled, take a step forward.

Khushi didn't back out. She only crossed her arms on her chest and stared at him indifferently. "Just like I don't need your orders."

"Bloody hell!" Arnav yelled, his calm posture snapping. "I won't let an under-qualified girl like you to take charge of my company!"

She raised her brows in mock astonishment. "And you think you are better qualified than me for handling this company?"

Shaking his head, he sneered down at her. "MBA ki hai. Harvard se." (I have an MBA. From Harvard.)

He had been expecting her to blanch but to his surprise, his cousin merely sniggered behind her hand before straightening herself with full dignity.

"Humne bhi MBA ki hai. Cambride University se," she told him in a sickly sweet voice. "To iss liye, humaare paas ek aisa advantage hai, jo aapke paas nahin hai. Humne British economy aur business seekha hai, aapne American. Aur aapki jaan kaari ke liye, abhi hum aur yeh company, teenon England mein hi hain." (And I have an MBA too. From Cambridge University. So, I have a better advantage over you. I studied in terms of British economy and business, you in terms of the American system. And for your information, right now, both of us and this company, all three are in England!)

She audaciously threw a file on his desk. "Yeh aaj ki report hai. Humne jo bhi kiya, jo bhi desicions liye, iss mein hain. Padhlijiyega," she smiled triumphantly at the slightly discomfited, more furious look on his reddened face before walking out of the door. (This is today's report. Whatever I did, the decision taken and all, are in here. Do read them.)

Arnav didn't realise how much time he had stood there, fuming with her honeyed insults reverberating in his ears, until his uncle tapped at his shoulder.

"Kya hua, Arnav?" Manohar asked his nephew with a kind grin. "Sab theek to hai?" (What happened, Arnav? Everything okay?)

Only then, he got back to reality. "Mamaji, aapne uss ladki ko aisa kaise karne diya?" he gritted out his anger. (How could you let that girl do this?)

"Arnav-" Manohar started, placing his hand on his nephew's arm but the latter shook it away angrily and walked a few steps away. The older man sighed. "Dekho, beta, Khushi jo bhi kar rahin hai, voh R&R ki bhalaayi ke liye hi to hai."(Look, son, Khushi is doing her best for R&R's progress.)

"I. Don't. Care."

"She's got brilliant ideas, beta. I think you should cool down and listen to them at least."

Arnav swivelled violently on his feet to face his Mamaji. "I said, I don't care! How the hell could you let the daughter of that-"

"Enough!" Manohar shouted, knowing what would follow. "This is not you speaking, it's your father. Don't prejudice that girl like your father did hers," he lifted his hand firmly as the young man opened his mouth to protest. "She has got real talent, fantastic ideas and if she wants to implement it in the business, there is no one who has the right to stop her. It belongs to her as much as to you."

The uncle left the office without another word more and now, Arnav was even more irate than before. That girl would pay for defying him. It was an oath he had made to himself. He took his phone and called his secretary, but not after he had flung the file Khushi had given him to analyse in a corneer of the room.

"Himani? Yes, when are the French clients coming to finalise the deal? Okay, thank you. Now please, call Khushi... Yes, my new business partner. You call her and tell her to come to my office directly tomorrow morning."

With a victorious smirk he put the phone away. She had been bragging about her qualities and talents hadn't she? She had taken his uncle on her side, snatched the depot from his grip, and started working by her methods because she believed she was better than him? And what had she said? She had an advantage on him?

Well he would show her what having an advantage over someone really was...

***

Khushi parked Sheetal's horrible car in front of the cottage, disgust clearly written on her face. What kind of person liked such a crude shade of gold? Ugh! She was just turning to go inside the house when something hit her and she looked back at the vehicle. Horrible but perfect!

Now, why perfect, you ask? This gross vehicle would become the perfect weapon for revenge. Grinning, she lay a hand on the driver's door.

"Sheetalji ka swarn vaahan," she snickered devilishly. "Aapko Khushi Raizada ka aadarniya pranaam. Vaise to humein aapse koyi ziaakti dushmani to nahin, lekin aapki maalkin ne humaare vaahan ka itna boora haal kiya hai ke hum kya kahein? Ab to sazaa aap hi ko bhugatni padegi, na? Lekin ziaada chinta mat kijye, swarn vaahanji, hum hissaab chukaane mein ziaada jaldi nahin kareinge. Ek ek paayi, ek ek baari. Aur aapki maalkin ki phattegi hi!" (Sheetalji's golden chariot. Khushi Raizada gives you her most respectful salutations. I don't really have anything against you, but your dear mistress put my chariot in such a pitiful state. Now you'll have to pay for that, right? Don't worry too much, golden chariot, I'll settle the accounts very slowly. One piece, one time. And your mistress will tear apart for sure!)

She jutted her lower lip innocently before bursting into helpless giggles, already imagining the woman's face. Sheetalji, something vengeful your way comes... Be ready, it's payback time!

***

"Himani said you wanted me at the office?" Khushi asked as she knocked at the door.

To her pure amazement, Arnav lifted his head off the catalogue he had been studying and beamed cheerfully. Taken aback, she looked over her shoulder to check but she was the only person there. Strange. Why was he appearing so nice today?

"Khushi," he gestured one of the chairs before him, his smile still intact. "Please have a seat."

Smile, politeness, gentle words... Okay, this was getting creepier and creepier. She gulped, sinking herself in one of the chairs. What did he want from her? His hatred could not have dissipated so easily, could it? Something smelt fishy around here. Cherry on top of cake: he had used her name! He had actually used her name! That was it! He had some devilment planned and stocked to shock her with in the coming minutes. She knew it!

"Yesterday, Mamaji and you had been able to convince me that you are indeed a beneficial asset for R&R. So-"

A loud scream coming from outside interrupted him. "What the-?" Arnav frowned, turning his head in the direction the sound had come from before he got up and walked out. Khushi chuckled, then hid her humour before following him.

Chapter 5 - Revenge #2 A La Francaise

"What did you do to my car, you crazy bitch?" Sheetal yelled as Khushi came out of the building right behind Arnav.

The girl looked at the irate woman with wide innocent eyes. "What did I do?"

"You- You want revenge, didn't you? For what I did to your car? I told you it was an accident!"

"But what exactly did I do?" Khushi shrugged calmly.

Fuming Sheetal pointed at the back left corner of the car and Arnav could not help his eyebrows from raising. The gold paint looked like it had been grated off the surface. Personally, he had never really like that color, he absolutely detested the model, but those scratches only enhanced the ugly monstrosity of the car.

"Oh? That?" Khushi acted surprised and shook her head sorrily. "I'm so sorry. I was about to tell you about it when I saw you but you saw it first. Actually, what happened is, your car is really a big butt and the driveway too narrow. So when I tried to get out of there, it got scratched. By the way, Sheetal, I think you should get someone to cut those bushes along the driveway down. they are really thorny. Someone might get hurt one day. Like your poor... car..."

Sheetal opened her mouth to spit something angry at Khushi but Arnav stopped her promptly. Had he not intervened, this argument would have surely gone on till the end of the day, and he had sworn that the sun would set only after he had completed his vengeance.

"Sheetal, calm down! I'll inform Aftab, he'll re-do the paint. And you," he barked, turning to Khushi, his initially calm demeanour evaporated. "I have not finished with you yet. In my office, now!"

Khushi watched him storm back into the office and soon afterwards his fiance stomped past her scornfully. She bit down the laughter which threatened to bubble out of her lips and composed herself before she jogged inside the lion's den too.

***

"So... Khushi," his voice was dripping with disgust when he took her name so that she had to swallow her pride and look back into his face with as much indifference as she could gather. "MBA from Cambridge University? I hope that will come of use to you today, because you will have to handle one of my clients."

Her jaw fell open and she gaped at him in utter disbelief for five whole minutes - or was it longer - before she got a grip on herself. "What?" she choked.

Arnav sneered at her arrogantly. "Darr gayi?" (Scared?)

"No!" she squeaked. "Of course not... it's just... Aren't you supposed to loath me and degrade me to a level lower than the dust of your feet?" Khushi winced. This guy was definitely sick. She was sure of it now. He was some kind of witch - or was it warlock? wizard? - and if someone raided this room, they would most certainly find a gigantic cauldron where Arnav Singh Raizada was brewing a really smelly plot.

Instead of faltering, his smirk widened with even more bitterness. "That's exactly why you are getting this assignment."

She lifted her brows thoughtfully as he strode behind his desk and sat there like a king on his throne.

"They will be at the depot in one hour," he informed her smoothly. "You had better hurry and get things ready."

Khushi saw Sheetal flash a triumphant glare towards her and she shrugged. Handling a clients couldn't be so hard could it?

***

"What? Arnav, how could you do that?" Sheetal shouted as she paced the length of his cabin.

He swivelled his chair towards her calmly with his cool expression. "I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Are you mad? You let that stupid girl handle your prospective client? And on top of that he is French and the most lucrative one you could ever get!"

Arnav rolled his eyes. "I'll leave soon, Sheetal, and she won't get the chance to screw things up that bad. It's my plan. First, I give her a responsibility, a huge one. Then because she can't speak French, she will mess up some things and I will reach there in the nick of time and save the deal from sinking. That way, she'll be embarrassed in front of me. She'll understand that she doesn't have the status to cross paths with me. If my plan works as I want it to, she might even leave out of shame!"

Sheetal gazed at him expressionlessly. Sometimes, his perspective of see things, his obsession with making the world go his way would drive her crazy, this guy had a mind that went as fast as light and truthfully, she never could understand him. She just endured him for her father's business. Mr Kapoor had told her firmly that no other than Arnav Singh Raizada could handle the enterprise. He had even already stated it in his will, careless about the amount of scratchy irritation it had poured on his only child.

The only thing she could hope for was that Arnav's plan would work. If Khushi left and gave her all her shares, the total would give Sheetal the upper hand. She would then have the right to auction R&R so that Arnav's full attention would turn to the Kapoor Enterprise and after her father had died, she could easily trick him into giving her the company back. Then? Getting a divorce from him wouldn't be that difficult. She would cleanly jilt him away...

***

Arnav counted till five before pushing the door open. He spotted Didier Dupont and his assistant, Jeanne de la Croix standing in a far corner of the massive R&R showroom with Khushi and his confidence boosted up. He had reached just in time.

But suddenly, he saw something that relented his stance, as well as Sheetal's behind him.

The trio was smiling as Monsieur Dupont was talking animatedly. It made Arnav frown. What had happened? As far as he knew, Dupont did not speak English at all and here no one seemed the least bit irritated. How had that girl pulled off with it?

He increased the speed of his feet as he neared them, feeling Sheetal close behind. What the hell was going on?

"Ah!" Didier exclaimed upon noticing Arnav. "Voila, Arnav." (... Here's Arnav.)

Khushi turned to him with a revoltingly sweet smile that made him sick in the gut. Did she-?

"Monsieur Dupont a accepte notre proposition!" she told him cheerfully. (Mr Dupont has accepted our proposal.)

Was that defiance in her eyes? Anyway, Arnav's spirits plummeted to the ground with a thud and smashed to smithereens. Damn the girl! Where the f**k had she learnt French? How the heck had she-? Damn her! Damn her to hell!

"Kooshie! Je vous ai dit de m'appeler Didier. Il n'y a pas lieu d'etre si formelle." (... I have told you to call me Didier. There's no need to be so formal.)

All of a sudden, Arnav was flaring up even more as he watched Khushi smile shyly at Dupont. What the hell? So he also was flirting with her now? Where the f**k had he gotten the permission to? And why was she being so shy and blushing, by the way?

Didier Dupont was sure a handsome young man, very rich and influential, but that didn't mean she had to act this way. She was just encouraging his advances. How could she be that stupid? He was just going to add a gruff comment to signal Dupont to stop playing his Casanova game around here when what the latter said next floored both him and his dear little cousin.

"Je dois l'admettre, Arnav," Didier smirked. "Ta femme est tres douee. Elle est un veritable atout pour ta compagnie. Ne la laisse jamais filer!" (I must admit, Arnav, your wife is really gifted. She's an asset for your company. Don't ever let go of her!)

For a second there was a heavy silence in the showroom as Arnav and Khushi glanced at each other, both bewildered. Arnav felt as though his tongue had been tied into an excruciatingly complicated knot. His eyes were popping out of his orbits while his mind felt numb and rusted. He could simply not bring himself to formulate the correct words to contradict Didier, tell him Khushi was not his wife. It seemed that the same expression was mirrored on her face but she recovered faster.

"Je ne suis pas sa femme!" she blurted out hastily, as if the words had a burning power. "Je suis sa cousine!" (I'm not his wife! I'm his cousin!)

Her words merely made the mask slip of Didier's face to reveal that dangerous, wolfish grin he had been hiding all along. The man grabbed Khushi hand to press a loud kiss there and he leaned closer to her.

"Voila qui est encore plus ravissant. Vous voudrez peut-etre me rejondre pour le dejeuner?" he whispered in a husky voice that caused Khushi to gulp nervously. (And that is even better. You will perhaps want to join me for lunch?)

The proposal hit Arnav's head with a pang and he saw red. "Khushi, I need to talk to you now!" he growled, throwing a warning stare at Dupont. "Desole, Didier." (... Sorry, Didier.)

"Ca va," Didier shrugged nonchalantly. "Je serai la pendant trois jours donc nous pourront signer l'accord demain? Et j'espere aussi profiter de votre compagnie," he winked flirtatiously at Khushi before marching out flanked by his middle-aged assistant. (It's okay. I'll be here for another three days so we can sigh the contract tomorrow? And I hope I can benefit from your company.)

Chapter 6 - The Degeneration

"How. Dare. You?" he growled, punctuating each word with a step closer to her, in a feral tone as soon as Didier was out of earshot.

Khushi looked at him wide innocent eyes. "What did I do?"

He was towering over her by then, his features crisp with fury as he glared her down. Those icy but burning eyes sent a shudder down her spine and she felt her confidence waver. It looked like she had stretched him too far this time, but how? What had she done so wrong?

"How dare you say that you are my cousin?" Arnav snarled, as though he had heard her question.

She gulped even as her confidence started steeping down and she lifted her chin high. "Because I am?" she retorted, defiance ringing aloud.

"No, you are not!"

Khushi jumped at the loud roar. Her heart had almost stopped. She could feel her eyes nearly bulge out while he ground his teeth together. He barely gave her time to recover and moved in on her.

"You're not even a f**king Raizada! You are not, you get that?"

"Look-" she lifted her hand to try stop him even as she retreated into the wall behind her, her heart beating miles per hour with fear of him. She noticed how pale Sheetal had gone over his shoulder. So this temper of his was really very dangerous?

"If it had not been for Maneesh Dada, you would have been scum!" Arnav spat viciously, making her own anger take over her.

She gritted her teeth. Anger was not good. You couldn't solve anything with that, right? "Ar-"

"Had Maneesh Dada not picked your f**king father from the f**king streets, you and your whole family would be rotting in some slum! You should be-"

Sheetal gasped out loud as Arnav's voice died suddenly. He held his cheek, the sound of the slap resounding throughout the showroom.

"Mind your language when you speak of my Bauji, understand?" Khushi hissed, her voice trembling. Her hand, with which she had just smacked his face, was pounding. She must have hit very hard. It was not usually how she reacted to harsh words but it was also not usual for someone to insult her family in this way.

Yes, her father was an orphan, an adopted child, but that did not mean that whoever wanted could say anything about him. She was definitely not going to accept it, especially since he was now dead. No one, absolutely no one had the right to denigrate Khushal Raizada, irrespective of his background. Had Maneesh Dada not said so many times that blood and status were meaningless? It was just feelings and ties of the heart that made relationships. The rest were just formalities. For her grandfather, Khushal had been his son and no one could change that.

Who were Arnav Singh Raizada and his father to judge that?

He snapped his head back to her, after a few minutes of being frozen with shock. He had never been slapped before. His ire went a notch higher before crumbling down to his feet when he clashed with her tearful but determined stare.

"Don't you ever, ever insult him again," she whispered, looking at him square in the eye. And for the first time in his life, Arnav felt himself humiliated, low, and mostly guilty. Of all the people he had insulted in his life, knowingly or not, why was this classless girl giving him this regret of saying hurtful things like these?

She stormed away before he could figure himself out. And mysteriously enough, he felt even more deeply guilty about what he had just said.

***

Maneesh was the second of the three Raizada brothers. He had married his childhood sweetheart, but they had never been able to have a child. His elder brother, Gajendra, had a son, Amrish, while the last brother, Nitin, was a whole fifteen years smaller. He would be the one to leave India first and open his antiques business in England with a lot of help from his father. And it was that company, that after his death, Arnav and Khushi had received as legacy; Nitin had never married, he had not heir.

It was some of those stormy day in the middle of the monsoon, more than seven years after marrying Prateeksha, when Maneesh was returning home from home. He had found a little boy of around ten, huddled under a wet newspaper so worn out that it was tearing apart. The boy had been shivering and burning with fever. Maneesh had brought him to his wife out of pity and they had nursed the boy.

Prateeksha had wanted to adopt him, so they had. They had named the boy Khushal and raised him with outmost love. But Amrish had never seemed to accept his new cousin. He had not been able to digest the fact that he would no longer be the only child to be pampered.

The bitterness had only blossomed with the years and the only idea that Amrish could have of Khushal was that the boy was nothing but a gold-digger. And it was the same bitterness which had been carried through the genes, into their respective children...

***

"You shouldn't have said that."

Arnav inhaled sharply, his eyes shut tight. How many times more was his uncle going to remind him of that? As if the lingering sting of her slap was not enough?

"Tumhein usse maafi maangni chaahiye, Arnav," Manohar spoke calmly. His nephew turned on his heels so abruptly to shoot a deadly glare that he was startled. (You have to apologise, Arnav.)

"I just told her the truth!" Arnav spat. "Arnav Singh Raizada kissi se bhi maafi nahin maangta!" (...ASR does not apologise!)

The older man's expression hardened immediately, and at once, the younger one realised that he had uttered the wrong words again. But before he could rectify anything, his uncle had already left. Arnav let himself fall into the armchair behind his desk and rotated it to face the wall. Damn his father's arrogance and temper! Of everything, why were these two the ones he had had to inherit?

***

"Haan, Ma! I'm fine! No, I'm not crying... and I haven't cried either. Stop grilling me! See- Achha! Hum phone hi rakkh dete hain!"

Khushi angrily jabbed at the screen to end the call and pocketed it. Damn the motherly instincts! How could her mother know that she was upset, when the lady was miles away in Rome, holidaying with her friends from the desi community of Birmingham?

The phone gave a shrill ring inside her bag. It better not be her again, or Khushi would just kill her phone. She answered it without looking at the caller ID.

"Ma, I told you I'm fine! Quit harassing me!"

"Ouch!" Her jaw dropped open at the male voice that answered her with a throaty chuckle. "I am not shiure 'ow to anser vat."

She flinched at the heavily French-accented voice. How she hated it when French people tried speaking English! Urgh! They just trampled over the words recklessly. And it was the same for the English who defiled French, and... Well, never mind!

"Didier?" she tried sounding normal.

There was a short laugh. "Vous l'avez devine si vite?" (You guessed so quickly?)

Well, that would not be so difficult considering the way you disfigure English, she thought, rolling her eyes. She was not that sardonic usually. But right now, Arnav Singh Raizada - the 'true-blooded' Raizada - had managed to piss her off completely. "Que puis-je faire pour vous?" (What can I do for you?)

"Ca vous dirait de boire un verre avec moi, demain soir?" (What about having a drink with me, tomorrow night?)

She felt her eyes widen. Had Didier Dupont just asked her out? Crap! She froze for an instant before clearing her voice. "Uhh... je ne bois pas..." (Uhh... I don't drink...)

"Allez... vous pourrez boire un jus de pomme ou quelque chose! Tenez moi compagnie! Ecoutez, demain, je signe l'accord avec Arnav. Nous pourrons nous rencontrer au Blue Salt a dix-huit heures?" (Come on... you can drink apple juice or something! Keep me company! Listen, I'm signing the deal with Arnav tomorrow. We can meet at the Blue Salt at six in the evening?)

Khushi sighed. She wan't used to saying no to people. And that was a great weakness of hers. She considered the proposal thoughtfully. Didier seemed to be nice. And it wasn't like she was dating him, right? They would just simply have a drink, be friends... Yeah, she could use a friend.

"D'acccord! On se voit demain, alors?" she grinned into the phone. (Fine! I'll see you tomorrow, then?)

Chapter 7 - A Real Drink!

She nervously balanced herself on her ridiculously high heels as she elbowed her way across the dance floor to reach the bar. She mentally checked her outfit again. Nothing too suggestive, right?

She scanned the room and saw a hand waving at her. That hand was attached to Didier Dupont. Khushi smiled and waved back before striding towards him.

"Bonsoir!" he exclaimed, getting off the high stool to kiss her on both cheeks. "Vous etes ravissante!" (Good evening! You're looking gorgeous!)

"Merci," she blushed slightly and climbed on the vacant stool beside him. (Thanks.)

"I'm not late, I hope?" an all too familiar voice spoke from behind her right as Didier leaned forward to order the drinks. Khushi felt a chill. They both turned around to see Arnav Singh Raizada standing there, his face expressionless. Her jaw tightened immediately, remembering his words from the previous day and she looked away from him to the dancing people so that her ire did not rise again.

For some unknown reason, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He shook hands with Didier and sat down on the other side of her while his client ordered the drinks. And he was still gazing at her without realizing. And her blatant ignorance of his presence was not that very pleasant. He knew he had perhaps said too much the previous day. Both to her and to his uncle.

That was why he had scheduled the meeting with Didier so late in the day. He had planned everything. First, Arnav Singh Raizada had spent the day with Manohar to gain his apology. It had taken some time but he had gotten it. He had to admit, apologising to his uncle was easier than what he was going to do next. Because his uncle was the father figure to him. But this girl who sat right next to him but refused to acknowledge him? What was she really? Did he really need to do this?

Arnav sighed at glared at the sparkling surface of the electric blue surface of the bar, even if it hurt his eyes. He had thought it would be manageable. What was difficult in it? He just needed to say one simple word: Sorry.

He had learnt, during the meeting with Didier this afternoon, that he would be meeting Khushi that evening for a drink, so, Arnav had invited himself. He had already decided on how he would proceed to tactfully, subtly tell her he should not have said those things to her, and without tarnishing the discomfort he felt for her, of course.

He was ready, he knew the words to use, then why was he delaying it? It would be better for him to get over with it and leave as soon as possible, right? Yeah, he was going to tell her whatever he had planned to and go. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and swivelled on the stool to speak to her but Didier was already sliding a tall glass towards him.

"The Sidecar, French classic," Didier grinned. "Et pour vous, Kooshie, un jus."(...And for you, Khushi, juice.)

Arnav's mouth shut itself in disappointment. He watched her lift the drink to her nose while shooting a suspicious glance at the Frenchman and sniff it just to make sure. He must have been speaking the truth for he saw her break into a smile and take a sip. His jaw tight, he took a large gulp, glaring at his client and 'cousin' as they smiled at each other.

"Vous allez manger quelque chose?" Didier abruptly stood up and started walking away. "J'arrive dans une minute." (Want to eat something? I'll be right back.)

Khushi grimaced, trying to stop him but it was too late. She was already left alone with that monster. She clenched her jaws together, letting her eyes shut tight.

"Listen," she heard him say hoarsely.

Her eyelids flew open and her dark gaze snapped onto him before she could stop them. He was sitting there, his back taut with apprehension. He was staring ahead as if he had been talking to no one in particular but she knew it was her.

"What I... what happened yesterday," he fumbled, the words he had mapped out lost somewhere in an abyss of his brain. "Maybe I should not have said that..."

"Maybe? Maybe?" she gasped, making his turn his head sharply to her.

Arnav felt his irritation climb up its ladder. "Well, I didn't said anything that is not true," he growled. "It was just... wrong, maybe..."

"Maybe?" she repeated, that dark fringe of her lashes narrowing to slits so that he could no longer see those fantastic dark caramel eyes anymore.

"Look," he tried leaning a little closer to her as his temper rose to dizzying heights because of her dismissive reaction. "I'm trying to-"

"Trying to what?" she snarled back with equal spite. "Say sorry? If that's what you are trying to do then I give you two options, Mr Raizada. Either you learn how to say it properly and you mean it, with I'm pretty sure is not in your power, or you just go to hell."

He glared back at her, locking her gaze with his. His irises had darkened to a colour near to black, she noticed. He was angry then. Well, she wasn't the one who cared. Defiantly, she held his eyes. Khushi Raizada was not going to back off. He was the bad person here. He ought to apologise properly. Not lace his non-existent regret with 'maybe'. They were still battling silently with their eyes when Didier returned. He eyed them curiously.

" 'Aving a petition, guys?" he asked, trampling over the English.

Arnav and Khushi both snapped their attention to him and simultaneously corrected his mistake, "Competition!"

They heated gazes clashed again and Khushi turned back to Didier who was holding out packets of pretzels. She shook her head.

"I'll have a drink," she announced decisively. Didier's eyes momentarily flicked on her glass of juice which was still full. "A real drink," she explained, causing Arnav's eyes to widen in disbelief.

Either he had gotten it wrong, or the girl had finally lost it. From what he had understood of her, she never touched alcoholic drinks. What was wrong with her? Then, he shrugged and lifted his Sidecar to his lips. He didn't care.

"Shots," he heard her tell the bartender.

"Mais-" a bewildered Didier gaped at her, then at the other man beside her, mutely begging him to stop his cousin. (But-)

"The strongest you have!" Khushi gritted out menacingly, leaving the poor man with no other choice.

***

"I think I should leave now," she slurred. Her vision had gotten horribly blurred. She hoped she would safely reach her, sorry, Sheetal's car and get back home without smashing it into something. The idea was fun though, she giggled. She tried getting off the stool but lost her balance and held onto the counter.

Didier caught her arm, completely shocked by the unexpected turn of events. Something had obviously irritated her and made her down all of the four glasses of shots the bartender had offered. And she had swallowed them back-to-back, while he had been too stupefied to react. Arnav on the other hand had watched her sardonically, and was that amusement he had seen glinting in those dark eyes?

He helped Khushi to her feet. She blinked with a goofy smile printed on her face and leaned against him. Didier looked in horror from her to her cousin.

"Qu'est-ce qu'elle a?" he whimpered. (What's with her?)

Arnav sneered pitifully. "Elle n'a jamais bu avant," he drawled, getting to his feet. "En voila une qui aura une sacree guele de bois demain." (She hasn't drunk before. She's gonna get a damn hangover tomorrow.)

She giggled again. Didier's lips twisted into a smile. "Cute," he grinned.

Arnav's scowl returned as if on cue and he folded his hand around Khushi's other arm to pull her against him. "I'll drop her home," he told Didier, already dragging the girl to the exit.

But she wouldn't let herself be manhandled like that. Khushi tried to free herself. "Chhodo!" she kept whining. Arnav pursed his lips and glared at her for a full minute before hauling her onto his shoulder, right in front of a most shocked Didier, and he walked out of the bar, her tiny fists attempting to drill holes into his broad back. (Leave me!)

This is so bloody wonderful. Cant wait for you to repost the whole thing