Okay, let me just say this. I HATE TECHNOLOGY. AND I HATE AIRPORTS. Okay, rant over. I was able to get done with part 21 so quickly because I was up most of the night, at the airport and then during the flight.
But then I tried sending pms using airport wifi. And let me tell you this. Either India Forums pm system breaks down every time I try to send a pm or the no one should rely on airport wifi ever again. Personally, I think its the first one.
3 times, I have had to copy paste the whole update, fill in the recipients , re-format the whole thing and pressed send only for IF to send me some error message . 😡 Can someone please tell me what is going on? Am I doing it wrong? Is there a word limit to the private messages?
Now, I'm going to have re-align the chapters so that there can be symmetry again. Urghhh. If this pm nonsense happens with the next update, I swear I'm just going to give up on this story. I don't have the patience to deal with error messages.
Anyway, if the update isn't great or you see some mistakes, please ignore. I was thoroughly sleep-deprived by the time I got done with it. But I skimmed through some of the discussion on the forum and it seems that CVs have gone and dug separate holes for each of the characters. Hopefully, this version of Prerna will cheer you guys up.
As always, your comments and reviews and messages are deeply appreciated. And would definitely make up for the horrific day I have had.
PART XXI
Prerna tried to taste the sabzi but it felt like a mouthful of sawdust. She kept her eyes on her plate, resolutely ignoring the entertainment page of Kolkata Times that lay open on the table. Page 3 carried a grainy picture of self-made billionaire Mr. Rishabh Bajaj escorting Varuna Sehgal, the leggy daughter of shipping magnate Viraajmaan Sehgal into a party. The picture was the first glimpse she’d seen of her husband in a week. He’d flown to Delhi after their confrontation and stayed there. He hadn’t even told her he was back.
She growled in frustration, pushing away her plate.
It felt like with every forward step they took, they went ten steps back. This week, they were back to being cordial strangers. She’d started her self-defense classes each morning before going to college and for the most part, avoided Anurag’s calls and presence. She tried to keep herself preoccupied but the complete absence of Rishabh in her life had left her feeling out of sorts. Like a frame tilted to one side. Oh, he’d call every day from Delhi, asking to speak with Kuki. But other than a few nominal exchanges, she’d had no contact with him.
Until today.
In a brief text, he’d informed her that they were invited to Abesh and Bhoomika Banerjee’s annual Christmas bash and that she was to be present at the given address by 9 pm. Short and to the point. No one could ever accuse her husband of being chatty.
She glanced at the tabloid photo again, her foul mood intensifying. Picking up her phone, she dialed the number for Venus salon and spa.
She had a goddamn party to get to.
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It was a tedious passage; everyone wanted to speak to him. Women called his name and gave him slumberous smiles. He shook hands, kissed cheeks, and made graceful escapes, as he worked the large oval room. Prerna, stood near the life-sized flower arrangements, talking to the governor’s wife, trying to stop her gaze from wandering to him. His tall frame cutting an imposing figure as he socialised, dark eyes set on a slant above his exotic cheekbones, the hint of savage in an elegant tuxedo making a devastating combination. Apparently, every woman at the party seemed to be of the same opinion as her because several were staring at him in open appreciation. He had a natural elegance that drew the eye.
As*holery should show on the face, she thought bitterly.
That face turned towards her then. Acknowledging her for the first time that night. He began walking across the artfully decorated hall, eyes intent on her. She hadn't seen him in over a week. She wasn't prepared for the sudden impact of sensation, like a punch in the stomach. All these months he had shielded her from the dangerous allure of his power, she realized, because the full strength of it was blasting at her now.
His gaze swept down on her and she felt as if he had stripped her naked, as if he were about to eat her alive. She felt exposed in her slinky black gown. She tried to look away from him, tried to compose herself, but she couldn't. He was here, and their game had only just begun.
"Prerna." He had reached her, so tall his shoulders blocked out the rest of the room, even though she was wearing heels.
"Rishabh." She could barely speak. Her throat had inexplicably tightened.
"You look beautiful." He said evenly, nodding at the governor’s wife.
"I--I beg your pardon?"
He didn’t repeat himself. Somehow he had her hand, his fingers hard and strong around hers. "Dance with me." It was more command than invitation.
She gave Mrs. Dutta an apologetic look over her shoulder as Rishabh led her onto the dance floor amongst other couples. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close, anchoring her to him. He clasped her hand in his free one, holding it against his chest. He began moving in a smooth rhythm and she had no choice but to follow.
He bent his head close to hers. "How are your MMA classes going?"
He wanted to talk about her right-hook now? She quivered as she fought back the urge to stomp on his foot.
“Fantastic. I have mastered the double leg take down.” She said, unable to keep the snark out of her voice.
“Noted. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” His dimple making a rare appearance. She ducked her head against his shoulder to hide her expression. She had been bored, chatting with people with whom she had nothing in common, but now energy was flowing through every cell in her body. Beneath the silk of his tuxedo, his chest was like iron. The heat of his body seeped through the layers of clothing between them, and the scent of him wrapped around her, warm and masculine and flavored with a hint of cigar smoke.
"You're holding me too close," she said, faint panic welling up in her, because the pleasure she felt was far from safe. His arms immediately loosened their hold on her, cold air filling the vacuum.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured stiffly, eyes shuttered. “This was the best way for me to point out some of biggest names in the room to you. We’ll have to spend sometime making small talk with them later.” He guided her in circles, all the while updating her on the who’s who of Kolkata. She tried to pay attention, but his proximity was distracting. As the song tapered to an end, he made a swooping turn and deposited her back to her original place.
“I won’t be coming home, tonight. You’re free to leave as soon as we’re done networking.” That was apparently all that he had to say to her.
He straightened his cuffs and started toward the bar.
Toward a waiting Varuna Sehgal.
Not wanting to see those supermodel legs on display, Prerna forced herself to turn in the opposite direction.
The Basu family was just entering through the double doors of the ballroom.
Yeah, she was definitely going to need something stronger than apple juice to get through the night.
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Two hours and 4 drinks later, Prerna found herself out on the patio. There were a few people sitting at the small tables scattered about the patio, talking and laughing, but the noise level dropped dramatically as she made her way toward the garden.
The sweet, peppery scent of roses filled the air. Small gravel crunched under her heels as she stumbled a little way down one of the paths. She found a stone bench nestled between gigantic rhododendron bushes and plopped down on it without any semblance of dignity.
She was pissed off. And drunk. But more importantly, she was pissed off.
She had spent the last two hours watching some brat try to jump her husband in public and avoiding Anurag’s persistent pursuit of her.
The Cosmopolitans had helped with both. She downed the first two after seeing that malnourished Varuna Sehgal worm her way into Rishabh’s side. What the hell ever happened to discretion?
Was she jealous? Absolutely not. Only her pride was smarting.
He could sleep with the whole cast and crew of Padmaavat for all the figs she gave. For all apples she--
“Hey, you okay?” Anurag’s concerned lilt halted her mental tirade.
Urgh. Man II. She was in this state because of the men in her life and she really didn’t want to see either of their faces. As*holes.
“What? What did you just say?” Anurag bent toward her, the smell of his cologne overpowering.
“Nothing.I said nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Did you drink?”
She shook her head, lying because she was in no mood to listen to his moral policing.
He didn’t seem convinced, “Come, let me take you home.”
She blindly swatted his hand away, her annoyance building. “What will it take for people to just leave me alone? Shooo!” She loudly ordered. “I like this garden and I like this bench. This is where I shall live for the rest of my days. Go awayyyy.” She whined, her head swimming.
‘I think the Banerjees may have a minor issue with a squatter, what with this being their garden and their bench and their house.” Her husband quipped as he came sauntering toward them, one hand in his trouser pocket.
“Urghhh. Not you too.” She groaned. She was done with men, especially that one.
“Prerna, enough. Come, get up!” Anurag cut in, stepping forward to give her a hand.
She squinted upward, her vision blurry. “I’m mad at you.”
“Prerna, I’m just trying to –”
“Not you!” She replied hotly. Why did Anurag keep interrupting?
“You!” She pointed a threatening finger at her husband. “I’m mad at you.”
“You can take it up with the management in the morning.” Rishabh said wryly, as he knelt beside her.
So close. So infuriating.
“Aren’t you funny?” She snapped.
“I have my moments.” His lips quirked in a half smile that made dizzy. “How much have you had to drink, Prerna?’
She held up four fingers, unable to lie this time, “They were yummy.”
“Oh, I just bet they were.” Rishabh snorted, shaking his head. "Come on, you little alcoholic, time to go home.”
“No!” She shook her head vehemently, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I can’t. I can’t get up! The floor is lava.” She whispered, eyes wide with terror.
“I see. If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Basu? As you can see, my wife can’t get up because the floor is lava.” Rishabh said with polished sincerity. He bent down, one hand anchoring her knees as he pulled her up against him. Her head immediately nestled in the crook of his neck, her hand clutching at the lapel of his tuxedo.
She was going home.
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Anurag watched in silent misery as his nemesis carried his Prerna out of the garden. It took everything he had to not go after Bajaj and demand that he release her. He swallowed his hurt, trying to block out their still audible voices.
“I’m going to punch her in the face. And then punch you in the face.” The aggressiveness in Prerna's voice as she spoke to her husband, startled Anurag.
“Easy there, Rambo.” Rishabh Bajaj's baritone carried over the low thrum of the evening's music.
How would you like it if I flirted with Mr. Sehgal in front of you?”
“I say, at this point if you can identify Mr. Sehgal in the crowd, have at it.”
“Pftttt…She does have nice knees.” Anurag heard Prerna say accusingly.
“Very.” Came the dry reply.
“I have knobby knees…”
“Well, what do you know. I actually prefer knobby knees…”
The voices faded, too far for the wind to them carry anymore.
_______________________________________________________________________
She was being carried upstairs. Her heavy head rested on a heated, solid surface. Prerna felt safe, relaxed, and completely at ease.
Rishabh was carrying her.
“I’m still angry with you.” She murmured drowsily into the column of his neck.
“Me? I’m the one who should be mad. You deliberately tripped the daughter of a business associate.”
Shit, yeah. She’d forgotten about that little stunt. That had been after the third drink.
“Fake B**bs had it coming, the skanky b*tch.” Vodka had clearly loosened her tongue.
"Fake--? Prerna..." He chided softly, his body shaking with silent mirth.
She snuggled closer into the sweet-smelling warmth that surrounded her, a contented sigh escaping her lips. She could stay there in the gently rocking, protective cocoon forever.
“Don’t Prerna me. You’re the one whose been parading his mistresses around.” Her fingers danced at the nape of his neck, finding strands of silk. “What if I started roaming the city with my misters?”
She was having trouble forming thoughts. How odd.
“Prerna…” He half groaned as her hands delved deeper into his hair, twisting the silk around her clever fingers. “There are no mistresses. Varuna is her father’s representative. We’re just doing business with them.”
“Mmm.” Prerna hummed, barely making out the words. She nuzzled her face deeper into the exposed collar bone and neck, finding it both unyielding and sinfully soft, like velvet laid over granite. “She wants to do business with no clothes. So you have to keep yours on.”
She felt a soft rumble of laughter build in his chest.
“Okay. Deal. Clothes stay on.”
More stairs. The sound of even breathing. The slow and steady thump of a heartbeat beneath her ear. His voice came again, quieter this time.
“Almost there.”
Prerna nodded, the world spinning unbearably fast. She took a steadying breath, hints of coffee, pine and smoke teasing her. She could recognize that scent anywhere. Her nose chased the fragrance, higher and higher, until it met the unforgiving line of his jaw. She automatically nuzzled it, pressing her lips against the underside of the hard bone, ignoring the low, strained groan that came from him.
“Behave.” He said sternly, kicking open the door to her room. Before she knew it, she was being tucked into her bed and smothered with blankets. Like he needed to put some distance between them.
“I’ll send Neelima to get you changed.” Switching on the table lamp, he made for the door just as she succumbed to the darkness and fell into a dreamless sleep.
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Prerna woke up with her head pounding. She squinted, trying to find her bearings but the percussion ensemble playing in her head was making it hard. And yuck. It felt like something had died in her mouth. She turned to her side and saw a note on the table.
‘You’re going to wake up and experience your first hangover. Drink the juice and take the Advil. I’ve got Kuki for today.’
Prerna slumped back into bed, pulling the covers over her. The pieces of the previous night’s happenings slowly fitting together.
Ohgodohgodohgod.
She’d gotten drunk.
She’d deliberately stepped on Varuna Sehgal’s gown and sent her sprawling on her ass.
She’d yelled at Anurag.
And Rishabh? Holy mother of f*cks.
Rishabh.
She groaned in mortification, hoping the ground would open up and swallow her.
How was she ever going to face him after her shameless behavior? She had practically climbed on to him and…
She buried her face in fistfuls of her night shirt, finding comfort in the familiar smell while drowning in embarrassment.
Wait a minute. She lifted her head and threw back the covers to look at her clothes in mounting horror.
You have got to be effing kidding me.
Neelima had once again, chosen to dress her Memsahib in one of Saahib’s shirts.
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Best,
Sohaa
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