FF collaboration: IPK.2.0-Doing it right, ch6-p136 - Page 20

Chapter 2:

Arnav Singh Raizada should have dropped the girl to the ground the moment she had landed in his arms. Like he normally would have with someone who had all but ruined his show.

Except he didn't.

For some strange reason despite the gasps from the audience, the stuttering - insulting Aman, the sudden disruption of what should have been THE most finely executed event sponsored by AR Designs; all he could do was stare at the hazel eye that tried to peek out of eye lids squeezed shut and eyelashes curled to perfection that no mascara available in the market could come close to achieving.

And the shining nose ring that glittered like a diamond under the bright yellow lights.

And the moist pink lips that fluttered nervously, mumbling some incantation. If he didn't know better, he would think she was a witch casting a spell on him.

Dammit. This was bad.

And yet, he could feel a sense of anticipation rush though his veins. A small smile made its way to his lips.

"I guess they were right. Bhagwan jab deta hai, toh chappar phaad ke deta hai!" He was proud of the mocking voice he was able to manage despite being stumped just as he was sure his sister and grandmother would be if they heard him use the right proverb at the right time. And in Hindi.

"Kya kaha aapne? Are you saying I'm fat?" The hazel eyes were wide open now, staring right back at him even as a whiff of fresh flowers filled his lungs.

It was enough for him to come reeling back to his senses. For a second he was tempted to smile at the ridiculous of her statement. And he might have if the situation had been any less precarious as it was going to be as soon as the moment passed and the lights came on. Crushing the urge to let his facial muscles relax, Arnav clenched his jaw and tightened his grasp on the woman, to scare, to jolt her out of her shock and the seemingly complete indifference to the havoc she had caused.

"Let me go." She squirmed, her eyes nervous as the strength of his vice-like grip dawned on her. "Put me down this instant. How dare you..."

He released her, causing the lower half of her body to hit the ground with a jerk even as he held one hand firmly on her waist. He took the minute that it took her to straighten herself to bark a few instructions into the bluetooth attached to his ear.

"Akash, use the teleprompter to tell Aman to wing it, tell a joke, sing a song, anything. Get someone to make sure no pictures of me holding this," He glanced at the woman who was straightening her shining dupatta, "this..woman make it to the papers." He disconnected the call without giving Akash a chance to respond. When he heard Aman saying something about the intrusion being a chance for the audience to gather their wits after that stunning display of beauty, he knew things were on their way back to normal. Except, it wasn't normal. Miss India 2012 was the most prestigious event on AR's calendar for the year and this, woman with bewitching eyes and a mouth so tempting - Lucknow's homage to the Indian village belle, had tarnished it.

"Devi Maiyya. Help."

He heard the silent prayer even as the contestants resumed their feline walks across the ramp. And just like that his anger returned, blazing in all its glory. He pulled her closer, ignoring the way her petite waist molded itself against his body.

"What are you doing? Let me go. They are waiting for me." She tried to pry his hands off her waist, only forcing him to hold her tighter.

"Well, they will have to wait longer. You are going nowhere at the moment. Not till I'm done with you. And that has to be later when I can deal with you properly. For now you've done enough damage to my show. Stay put." He bit out, angry with himself for still wondering what she would look like in the bikini even though women far more beautiful, far sexier than her sashayed in front of him, the invitation in their eyes clearer than words could be.  Even Lavanya's lithe, honeyed form, sexy long legs prowling the ramp like a tigress on the hunt couldn't distract him tonight.

So he did what he had too. He all but dragged her out of the aisle by the ramp as soon as the swimsuit round gave way to a thirty minute Bollywood-musical.

She blabbered all the way to the small makeshift office that had been created especially for him. "Listen Mr. Whoever-You-Are, you are getting it all wrong. It was a mistake. You know those unexpected things that happen when you don't want or intend them to? You are being rude. Really, really ru..."

He stopped suddenly pulling her by her arm with one strong jerk, forcing her to whirl around, her long braid wrapping itself around her as she stumbled and came to a twirling stop right in front of him.

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Khushi felt a shiver run up her spine as she saw the chill in those molten, caramel eyes. It was unnerving how one man, one look could silence her when hundred before him had failed. If she'd be honest to herself, she'd admit that he had finally succeeded in scaring her. When she had opened her eyes after that fall, his eyes were the first thing she had seen. And strangely the one emotion she didn't feel at the time was fear.

Now, her heart beat loudly, thumping so hard in her chest she was sure he could hear it. Maybe that was why he had this inexplicable power over her. Maybe that was why she hadn't kicked and screamed her way out of this mess. Because she would have done that in any other situation. Her family would testify in court against that claim if needed.

"How much are they paying you?"

She scrunched her face in confusion at the question. "Paying? What are you..." And then it struck her.  Maybe this man was the boss, the rakshas everyone kept talking about at AR. Maybe this wasn't as bad as she thought it was. Maybe he was ready to forget about the ramp fiasco after the stunning gota work he saw on the models. "Sixty thousand rupees. But I hear the usual payment for such work is a lot higher. Could you talk to them? Maybe..."

"Sixty thousand? That's it? That's the price of your ..erm..talent?" He let out a short laugh. "You've been duped, sweetheart. Because for the risk you've taken, even sixty lakhs would have been little compensation."

"What?" Something was not right. What was he talking about? Had she made a mistake? Was this not the boss-man?

"Oh you do well, Miss...?" The man paused.

"Khushi Kumari Gupta" She offered and immediately regretted it. She shouldn't have given out her name. She didn't even know who he was. "And you are..?" Khushi asked gingerly, letting her mouth curve into a smile. A nervous smile that died the moment she it met narrowed, annoyed caramel brown ones.

"Do you think this is a social meet and greet event?" He stepped forward, making her strain her neck to continue looking at his face. He was tall. Why were all men tall? It made it so difficult to look them in the eye. And there was the added complexity of the illusion of power that came with height.

"Did you think you could sabotage an AR event and blink your large doe eyes out to safety?" His voice was cold, sneering as he looked down at her, her wrist still encased in his death-like grip.

"Sabotage? Me?" He may be the boss man but he was obviously also crazy. Why would she sabotage an event that paid her good money? "Are you insane?" She tried to wriggle her wrist out of his grasp. In vain.

"I thought there might be some grey matter in that head." He shook his head. "Looks like I may have to resort to unpleasant-ness after all. Pity."

Khushi stared in confusion as he fished out a phone from his jacket and dialed a number. It was only then that she noticed the strange device plugged in his ear. It made him look like a creature from outer space. A giggle burst forth as she imagined small antennae on his head to go with the device with a blinking blue light.

"Akash, get the police. I'm in the office with the gatecrasher." The man dictated in clipped tones, his eyes steeled on her in disapproval at her ill-timed laugh.

Her laughter evaporated as she heard the words. Police? "No, Sir, please. You don't understand. I am not here to sabotage the AR event. Why would I when they are paying me so well?" She clutched at the sleeve of his very expensive jacket and tugged at it to draw his attention.

"What the..." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you crazy? Get your hands of.." He looked down at her hand, making her retract it hastily. "Not you, Akash. This woman,,,Khushi..something..."

"Khushi Kumari Gupta, sir."

"Whatever" The man waved his hand irritably. "Akash, I am not talking to you. Stop..stop...Send in security. Now." He disconnected the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"Sir, I am not a spy." She bent a little and leaned in to direct his attention towards her as she held up the one thin piece of gota that she had been clutching at in her right hand. "Gotas. I am the gota seamstress for AR." She explained in a rush before he misunderstood her any further. This was getting way out of hand even for her.

"What?" He barked. "What the hell is Gota?"

She wanted to punch him in the face. How dare he dismiss her work, her beloved cloth, her livelihood, her passion? She took a deep breath and smiled. This was not the time to take offense for things far less serious than cops and the promise of imprisonment. Or worse. "Sir, Gota - from the depths of the rich Rajasthani tradition, the beautiful golden embellishment that AR is using in its designer swimwear, the ones the contestants are wearing. I won the bid to design the ethnic bikins for this year's Miss India. I even beat the Kanjeevaram thread work. Can you believe it?" A look of pure disbelief and skepticism stopped her rant midway. She'd gotten carried away. Again. Devi Maiyya! What is wrong with me? "I was fixing Pam-ji's bikini-top when she stumbled against me, pushing me on to the stage. And..."

"So you are the-erm-Gota seamstress?" He asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. Sarcasm she didn't care for but had no choice but to ignore. "And you are designing the classy, trendy, AR bikinis for this year's contestants?" His eyes were now openly mocking her, the derision more evident than the small scar above his right eye. "Somehow it is hard to believe you are the bikini designer for AR." He let his eyes roam over her, taking his own sweet time to travel from her deep red mojaris with golden thread work up her bright pink salwar and brighter green kurta, all the way to the small silver jhumkis hanging in her ears.

Khushi felt blood rush to her cheeks in embarrassment. She hated this guy. Him with his accented Hindi, arrogant eyes and a general disdain for all things not as sophisticated as he was.

"Yes." She raised her chin slightly, forcing herself to keep her confidence. She didn't have to be scared. He wasn't going to..."You can ask your design team. You can ask the contestants - Lavanya-ji, Sim-ji, Pam-ji..anyone." She pulled her hand away, this time succeeding in securing her release from his hold.

"Tell you what, Miss..Whatever-Your-Name is. I'll let you stay here and take some time to flesh out that story with more detail while I go and see to how best I can deal with someone like you."

Khushi stared at the man in front of her in sheer disbelief. "You don't believe me? I am telling you I have references. I promise..."

"Save it. I have an important event going on which you clearly haven't noticed. So I don't have the time to play these games with you. Whatever your motive was to walk on to that ramp, I am sure by tomorrow morning, you are going to regret it. If you want to avoid all that, there is a simple way out." He let the statement hang.

And like a fool, she fell for it.

"And that is?"

"Plead guilty."

Of course she wouldn't. Why should she? She'd done no wrong. No one had. If Pam-ji hadn't been nervous, she would have never pushed Khushi on to the ramp. It was a mistake. If this excuse of a human being didn't understand human error, he was not worth her time. Or effort. So she stayed silent, using the uncharacteristic weapon to register her protest. As a result, here she was, fifteen minutes later - locked in the small but richly decorated, efficiently equipped makeshift office.

It was incredible even for someone with Khushi's track record or royal screw-ups. She was locked on the premises of the Miss India 2012 event in Lucknow. When she should have been finished with the contestants and should have been heading back home by now. When she should have been basking in the glory of her brilliance. For a brief minute, Khushi felt a stab of tears prick at the back of her eyes. No! She wouldn't. Khushi took a deep breath and looked around her.

She saw the wooden door leading to what was presumably a bathroom. She felt a surge of hope as she rushed towards the door and pushed it open to see the small window stacked with glass panes - the answer to her problems.

Khushi Kumari Gupta smiled, clapping her hands together in barely concealed glee.

CHAPTER 3