Three years earlier:
Armaan stood leaning over the bar taking his sixth vodka shot. Manners be damned, he thought sourly. It was his second last day in London, and he had mixed feelings about returning to his homeland. He could not wait to see his mother and sister, but he was the least elated about inheriting an empire he had no idea of. He took another shot, swearing under his breath. He had not planned for his evening to like this, but for some reason he wasn't in his usual self. The swaying bodies and flirtatious invitations were presenting no allure to him, as if he had been frozen in an ice compound.
"Shilps," he turned around annoyed at the disturbingly loud voice, only to follow the gaze of the woman beside him. He stared for a moment, his eyes searing through the woman descending the stairs. She was clad in a satin green gown, falling into flares as it went down her hips. His gaze took in the shape of her body clad behind the gown that stuck to her body like second skin. He let his gaze scan her. His eyes moved over the bare skin that was revealed in her sleeveless gown. The dress was gathered across her breasts, letting the slightest of her cleavage reveal, teasing and inviting, not giving and yet leaving one tempted and needy to see beyond it. Her gleaming milk white skin glowed in the illuminating light of the chandeliers. He could trace every single bone etched over her collar, and the hollow dents in her neck. She had a voluptuous body catching the attention of every single man in the room. His eyes traced every single curve until it disappeared behind veil of promising fantasy, the honey brown curls that fell across her face descending all the way down across her breasts, the curvy delicious mouth, the sway of her hips, sensually enticing as she came down the stairs. He wanted to tear off the mask from her face and stare closely at her.
He begun unfastening the ribbons of his own mask then stopped. Everyone had to have the mask on. It was the damnest rule of the party, and he hated it, however having nowhere else to go he sat there nonetheless. He saw her walking to her friends and gritted his teeth in frustration. His body reacted violently to her presence. Not that he was a man who took interest in every single girl like that but something about her unsettled him, unnerved him. He could feel himself hardening, his eyes not leaving her for a moment.
She's just a girl, he told himself silently, trying in vain to rid himself of the urges that consumed
him. She's a girl like any other. But that wasn't true. The strength of his reaction to her alarmed
and startled him. He would give away everything in his power to have her. He was never vulnerable
to sudden impulses, had never been ruled by anything but logic and reason. It seemed that all the
recklessness he had never allowed himself to feel had come over him in one moment.
Armaan moved around the edge of the crowd with the deliberateness of a predator, his gaze
locked on her. He wasn't certain what he intended to do; only that he had to be near her. He wanted to plunder his hands into the honey soft curls of her hair, let his senses be intoxicated by her presence, touch her, taste her. The shock of the sudden impulse that took over him caused his loins to stir painfully. He had to have her.
Armaan woke up to see a warm body pressed to his. He snorted seeing the girl still there. Who was she? He held his head with a growl. It was hurting like the very devil. Not bothering to move away the comforter and look at her he got out of the bed murmuring drowsily, soft curses as he swayed his way across the washroom. He washed his face trying to remember the chronicles of last night but all that came back was memoirs in pieces, like smeared flashes of reality. He remembered gulping down shots after shots, then seeing a woman asking her for a dance, getting one, then challenging her to a drink and then every moment after that was incoherent a blurry bit smashing across his head in no order. He got out of the washroom to look at the woman but she was gone. He knew he had not had sex with her; they had been fully clothed for that. He let out a frustrated sigh. He did not even remember a thing about the girl who had left such an intense effect on him. He shook his head.
Two days later:
Armaan packed his bags getting late for his flight when a parcel arrived. He signed off and tore it in urgency, his eyes falling on the stamp papers and he stared shocked and bewildered. For moments he kept staring and then he cursed. This could not be, he could not have. He cursed under his breath wanting to break things violently. He was married to a woman he had no idea how he got married to. All he knew was it was a legal marriage with the copy of their registered marriage certificate in the court in his hand.
He let go of his baggage and went to Ball's Avenue of the night before inquiring impatiently but no one had any idea who he was talking about. He then rushed to the registrar's office who told him, he did remember him and a girl coming there and getting married. The manager himself had vague details of her but he gave him the address that she had placed in for her copy to be parceled. He thanked the manager driving impatiently to the girl's house and seeing a lock, the neighbors telling him that the girl left two hours ago. And then he stood there. He was married to a woman he had no idea about, did not know who she was, did not even know where she went. All he knew was he was married, and there was no chance of annulment or divorce, for he did not even know who she was.
Three years later:
Shilpa took the glass of orange juice, gulping it down as she proceeded to read her emails. She stopped staring at her sister's name and growing elated to read an email from her after so long.
Dear Shilpa,
I am sorry, I know in past few days I have not picked your calls or replied to your messages. Certain things had been happening and I was rather too busy. You know how much I miss you. After mom and dad's separation, I came with mum and you went with dad, and both of them had condemned us from meeting each other, but you have always been there for me like a big sister.
Shilpa last night I was engaged to Armaan Malik. I know the news must come to you as a complete shock, but it was as startling to me. Mom said she and the Maliks had a betrothal agreement and think it's in all our best benefits if I get married to Armaan Malik. He is really rich, and you know what our mother thinks of such people. I miss you dearly. Everything happened in such haste. I hope you were here, I hope you come here.
Your little sister,
Muskaan.
Shilpa read and reread the email. Her fists tightened at her sides. Her parents were absolute animals. They were selfish and greedy, and all in all, their life's biggest mistake had been marriage to each other and producing two daughters named Shilpa and Muskaan. They had suffered due to their parents all their life. Shilpa had been too rebellious to be patted and used by them. She had rebelled and gone out to live with her uncle who adored her very much. But Muskaan was unlike her. Muskaan was a very humble, tamed traditional girl. Shilpa had gone to live with her father after their separation since her mother and she never really got along. Shilpa was exactly the opposite of everything Muskaan was. She was not shy. She was spirited, young, wild and reckless. She was a book worm too, weaving a beautiful world of hope around her. She loved animals, and did everything they said girls could not or should not do. And Muskaan was a fragile flower, and Shilpa had always taken care of her. Her parents despised her because of her nature but her mother had managed to cower and make Muskaan exactly what she wanted. A dummy in her play. Both her parents wanted to best each other, and they'd used their children, when Shilpa's father had betrothed her to Abhimanyu Modhi, the CEO of one of the leading steel corporations, and she had no choice but to accept it. She had to do it for her father, who unlike her mother at some point had shown a care for her, had left his money over her expense, and he told her he wanted payback in this form and she had thought so be it sourly after useless quarrels with him. She knew exactly what her mother was doing. She was giving Muskaan to this man, who was even more accomplished than Modhi, to best her father, to beat him, chide him. But Muskaan loved Rahul Garewal. He was a school friend of hers, and she had told Shilpa the day they'd confessed to each other.
Muskaan was too obedient to ever go against her mother's wishes. She knew she would have by now cut all contacts with Rahul and there was no way in hell would she let Armaan Malik marry her sister. She'd have enough with men. Vaguely Shilpa thought of that night in London. She was married to some stranger she had no idea of. Her life was a complicated tangled mess. She did not believe in that marriage, and how could she? It was unreal; she did not even know who her husband was. And it was damn likely he did not even remember. Pushing aside the disturbing thoughts she pondered on forming a plan carefully. Of two things she was absolutely certain. Armaan Malik whoever he was, would not get married to her sister whatever she had to do and second she'd not miss the look of defeat on her mother's face for the world.
Armaan poured himself another drink. His life was in the hoes of destruction and he was the one fueling the fire. He was engaged to a woman he had no feelings for, and was to marry her. She was too sweet for him, to a point where her reluctance and shyness irritated him. It was beyond reasoning, but he was to marry the girl. He gave an ironical smile at the mockery of life. He was married to a woman he didn't even know and he was again marrying another he did not want to know. Business association that had been what his mother called it. She was his mother's best friends daughter and her mother expected her to give away her properties and business corporations to Armaan once they were married. His mother had refused to listen to him. She had been adamant that he marry the girl, and later looking at through a business perspective he had given his approval. It was who he was now. A business man. He'd been reduced to an angry, arrogant man from a cheerful reckless boy. He had lost all the looks of the boy he once was. Rough stubble and rugged features highlighted his countenance. He had almost dark shades under his eyes due to excessive work and lack of sleep. His hair had been uncut for long, growing around his neck. They weren't really long, however had grown enough to crowd his nape. He poured himself another glass imagining how life with Muskaan would be, and could not bring himself to think of it.
"Sir there is a lady here expecting to see you. She does not have an appointment however is very persistent on seeing you."
Armaan growled couching over the seat angrily. He was in no mood to meet anyone.
"Tell her to go the hell away." He turned back to the bar.
"Sir she says she is Miss Muskaan's sister and needs to meet you right now."
Armaan lifted his head. Muskaan's damnable sister here? From all he had heard from her mother, they had disowned her because she was a disgrace to them, unlike Muskaan. They'd said so many things about her, but he hadn't paid an ounce of attention.
"Send her in." Armaan got off the bar, adjusting his tie and going into the adjoining room that was his cabin.
Armaan lounged over his seat taking in the woman's presence as she filled the room. He stared at her through veiled inspection. His face remained expressionless as she confidently walked across his room and stood, bending over his table. Her hair were tied behind in a straight back to back pony against her neck, letting a tress loose as it fell against her face. Her eyes were sharp and a colour of emerald green. They were beautiful he thought as he stared at her. She was clad in a casual formal jeans and shirt, with the sleeves folded back and the first button of her shirt undone. He tried not looking at her, he tried not staring into her beautiful eyes but he could not stop it more than he could have stopped his own breathing. Something about her pulled him in. he took in her sweet and spicy scent, something of a combination of sandalwood and lavender and the earthly feminine scent, hiking up his senses. He searched maddeningly through his memory to remember where he had seen her, but there was nothing but a formidable tingling feeling of recognition heightening his senses. He felt his whole body jerking in response to her presence.
"Mr. Malik," her voice laced with sweet menace reverberated through his ears calling him back from his fog, "I am Shilpa Malhotra, Muskaan's sister"
"I know." He scoffed, moving back in his chair to stare at her.
"Good then, I may aswell be blunt. I want you to back from this marriage."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she stopped for a moment taking in his reaction, when his remained impassive she continued, "leave my sister and go find someone else. She won't marry you."
"Excuse me?"
"Are you a fool? You are not going to marry my sister you pompous ass. I WON'T LET THIS WEDDING HAPPEN. You don't deserve her."
"For one, I do not take anybody's orders, for second, I deserve a hell a lot better but your sister will do and third, get out of my office." His voice was stern and his eyes were pools of unfathomable black.
"Alright. I took measures to warn you beforehand. I won't let this marriage happen. Mark my words. You'd rather be happier to back off. I take nasty measures to get what I want Malik."
"The door is behind you." He clipped her.
"Very well." Their gazes clashed and held for an unspeakable moment and then she turned around proceeding out whilst Armaan watched the sway of her hips. He tightened his fists at his side. Celibacy was driving him mad he thought banging his hands over the table.
Muskaan sat with her mother in the parlor of Malik house reading a magazine when suddenly chirping she ran across the room to hug her sister whilst her mother went frozen with a sour twist of her mouth.
"Muski"
"Shilpu."
"I-I thought I'd never see you, I," her sister burst into overwhelming tears while Shilpa rubbed her back hugging her.
"I'd never leave you, not for hell." Shilpa assured her softly, her gaze at complete odds with her voice, piercing sharply through her mother's.
Muskaan's happiness haze was broken by her mother's cold voice.
"What are you doing here? Does your good for nothing father know? Or has he sent you to see how big of a catch Muskaan has got hold of, richer than your Modhi."
Muskaan's hold tightened over Shilpa who gave her mother a mocking smile, "Of course dear mother, that is the only thing you can think about, catches and money. After all all of this is nothing but a competition, and my sister is a pawn in your game."
"Mind your language."
"How about you mind yours, and I'll try not speaking the truth."
"Muskaan tell her to leave right now!"
"Mother, please let her stay. She is here to be a part of my happiness. Surely you can allow me that. I promise I'd ask for nothing more, just let Shilpa stay with me until the wedding. This is my earnest request."
"What the hell," Armaan begun cursing angrily then checked himself when he saw the two other ladies with Shilpa in the parlor.
"Hello to you too Mr. Malik."
"You know him?" Muskaan looked back and forth between Armaan and Shilpa.
"No, his manners depicted he must be the chap mother chose for you, after all I trust her taste enough to know she'd chose the worst man alive for you." Muskaan covered her mouth while her mother and Armaan stared at her incredulously.
"I am sorry Mr. Malik she is not my daughter but an ill-tempered girl. I apologize on her behalf. She has always put the family to shame."
Shilpa gave a mocking smile whilst her eyes locked into Armaan's and the searing sense of familiarity with an underlying current lanced through again. Where had she met him?
"Mr. Malik please don't be offended, my sister always only wishes for my wellbeing. I hope you won't deny her staying here until the wedding; she is very dear to me. I won't stay without her.
"But ofcourse hospitality is a rare virtue nowadays. Its okay. It doesn't matter that I am your only sister and how much you love me, Mr. Malik would not let me stay here since its his house. I understand."
"Armaan please. Let shilpa di stay here." Muskaan was now begging him. He gritted his teeth in frustration at her game. She gave him an innocent victimized look sending shots of anger through him.
"Fine. She'll stay. I am tired and I need you all to leave here." Even though displeased Shilpa's mother was the first one to proceed out with Muskaan following. Shilpa took a step when her wrist was snatched by Armaan.
"Just because you got into my house, does not mean you'll do as you please. One wrong move and it'll be enough to throw you out." He turned her around, pulling her closer to face him. Her scent plundered his mind, the soft silk like skin throbbing with a pulse beneath his fingers, tempting him beyond reason. He'd never wanted a girl the way he seemed to want her. And the fact that he hated her all the much. She was so familiar he could almost sense a dejavu, but ever flicker of his memory was a blur.
"My darling Malik. Wait and watch. Will you?"
"Gladly." And he let go off her wrists. She rubbed them softly when his hand took hers back rubbing it and she snatched it back as if his touch burned through her skin.
Her fiery eyes met his and then she left and for an insane unbelievably ridiculous moment he wished he was getting married to her instead of her sister.
phew. I'll post the second chappy in two days lol. Promise.
TADAAA<<<<
Rida :P
Index
Chapter 1: Page 1
Chapter 2: Page 12
Promo 1 : Page 17
Chapter 3: Page 22
Note : page 31
Chapter 4:page 32
chapter 5: page 46
Chapter 6 page 48
chapter 8 page 56
Chapter 9 (LAST) Page 57
Epilogue page 60
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