"Let me tell you why gold diggers are assholes", she said, the click clack of her heals commanding the attention of everyone in the room. "They are public shamed, berated, put down, put up for sale like sellable things until they become sellable things. It takes a certain kind of arrogance, a dash of beauty, an overboost of confidence and plenty of thick skin to walk through life like you own that bitch, and do it in a mini skirt and Jimmy Choo's at that. In other words, this woman you is an asshole". She was talking about herself.
Madhubala Malik had been in civil union with the only son of Shamsher Malik and heir to Malik enterprises for two years. This arrangement came with its benefits of course, but more importantly, it came with the never ending accusations of being a money hungry bitch.
Strangely enough, she never denied such claims. In fact, she embraced them as a part of her image.
"I am a gold digger living with a hot rich man ten years my junior. Bite me!" she openly declared to her disapproving father in law. She'd never been much of a rule follower and her extended rebellion from her in-laws' family ties had only earned her the title of a "the eye candy wife", "dumb keeper", and the like.
So when she said "Malik Sahib don't deny it. I know you want to be with me and Mrs. Malik you are just jealous because you want to BE me. Admit it to yourselves you envious bitches!" in a drunken stupor, it only earned her a week in house arrest and a perpetually present bodyguard to monitor the rest of her partying life.
Her husband had not been around much and when he did come home extended trips abroad, they both perched up in their love nest for days without contact with the outside world. Rumor has it some pretty strange shit goes down there.
Thankfully, when Rishabh Kundra was hired on for the job of safeguarding Mrs. Sameer Malik, the two lovebirds had long flown out of the nest for winter migration.
"Listen buddy", Rishabh was told. "Miss Madhubala Malik is not your average gold digger. She does not have a prototype or a blueprint so drop your assumptions when you go in. She is as weird as they come, alright? Actually, let me tell you about her. She started out as a commercial pilot. Then, she enlisted for the marines. Two years later, she was bored out of her mind and studied corporate law. Just when we thought she would settle peacefully into her husband's company, she decide it was time to take Wall Street. Of course, that wasn't going to last either. And for the past nine months, she just been playing around spending her man's money. God she is hopeless. And shameless. And has no shame about being either hopeless or shameless. In three words, A LOST CAUSE".
Rishabh was attentive on the surface but these empty facts didn't matter much when he had far more important matters on his mind like bringing down the Malik house, or paying Shamsher Malik ten times forward for all the atrocities he'd committed against Rishabh's family thirty years ago.
"I have been waiting for you", Madhubala copied a line from some famous movie and turned her chair around for dramatic effect. Then, she clung to Rishabh elbow and called his name with the most mesmerizing crystal eyes he'd ever seen in this lifetime. "Nice name boy".
Boy? Boy!
With one word she'd disregarded his years of hard work and achievement as a bodyguard. Then again, he should have expected this with little miss spoiled rotten. Moving on, she said the painfully familiar "let's go shopping" with a smile and wink and Rishabh knew a disaster was on the way.
She drove, no flew her convertible Bentley into the midtown shopping district and loudly declared, "the queen is here. Bow down bitches" to dozens of unsuspecting minimum wage retail workers. Then, she pointed her finger to racks full of designer clothing, emptied said racks, and flew back to the mansion, all in a matter of two hours.
"Let's eat kid", she said soon after and dragged Rishabh down to a posh looking fine dining establishment that served well-done skirt steaks for the little miss. And any meat eater knows skirt steaks cannot be eaten raw. She understandably got bored chewing on the rubbered texture of the meat and demanded Rishabh finish the rest. He did so with much hidden scorn and visible anguish.
Following this, it was time to hit the nightclubs and get drunk out of her mind. Bar hopping was essential of course, it had to be if she were to pick some hot guys.
"Only kissing", she confided in him. "My guy gets mad if I take on of them home".
"So have you done it?" was the burning question in Rishabh's head but he barely contained himself in fear of losing his job.
Hold on, if thought you'd seen it all, you ain't seen nothing yet. She even did the ceremonial puking and the vomit landed straight on Rishabh's newly dry cleaned suit-shoe combo. The woman was kind enough to slip three hundred dollar bills under the table for the damages.
Rishabh knew this initiation was nothing if not unforgettable but he was not one to give up if he'd come this far. She could be hated on another time. For now, his sole focus was on breaching the enemy gates and Madhu's erratic behavior could be his one foolproof source of getting in.
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