Kaise yeh Rishtey - 7 & 8

Chapter 7

Khushi looked at the name of the building, and then at the envelope in her hand. Yes, this seemed to be the right place.

Her instructions had been clear – deliver the envelope personally to Mr. Raizada, and wait for an answer. Don’t return without meeting him and making sure he reads the letter. Otherwise, it would be goodbye to her job and house arrest for her. And she knew her brother would carry out his threat, maybe with a beating thrown in for good measure, depending on how drunk or sober he was. He had even rung up the hospital himself, to ask her supervisor for the afternoon off for her. She really had no choice.

She entered the lift and pressed the button for the thirty-first floor, holding the envelope carefully. She looked around her as the lift rose - it had glass walls, and she could see herself rising into the air. It gave her a heady feeling, and she smiled, as she watched the people scurrying around below, looking as small as ants.

She came out of the lift into a plush, carpeted corridor. The whole floor seemed to be occupied by one office, and she entered the glass automatic doors, as they whooshed open for her.

An elegant secretary looked up at her, and she offered the letter hastily, glad she had taken time to look her best. In these pristine surroundings, she felt out of place. How had her ragamuffin brother ever worked here? She wondered, and then remembered that he had been at the factory, not at this plush office. He definitely would have been out of place here, she thought, with an inward chuckle.

The secretary rang an internal number, and then looked at her. "He's busy. You don't have an appointment, do you? You can leave it with me, if you like. I’ll see to it that he gets …”

“No,” said Khushi hastily. “I need to give it personally. If that’s all right,” she added.

The secretary looked at her again, this time more closely. However, she was obviously too well 

trained to show what she thought.

“You'll have to wait, then," was all she said.

Khushi nodded. The secretary nodded to the sofa, and a pile of magazines, and Khushi made good use of both. There was a whole pile of reading material, which was a good thing. Khushi had not had time to read for a long time, and Mr. Raizada was obviously going to make her wait.

She waited for a long time. Nearly four hours. She was getting restless, and trying to decide whether to go home and risk her brother's wrath, when the inner door opened, and another elegant creature, twin to the first emerged.

"Miss Khushi? We're sorry to keep you waiting for so long. You didn't have an appointment, and ASR has been extra busy today. Please come this way. Sara," this to the secretary, "Boss said you may go, but come in early tomorrow. He has an 8 o'clock meeting with the Singapore group."

The other woman nodded, and prepared to leave, as Khushi's escort took her through the inner corridor, into a set of rooms. She knocked at the door of one, and opened it for Khushi.

Khushi entered the office, and looked around her wondering. It was a huge room, fully carpeted in a dark maroon pile, with an oversized sofa and two chairs at one end, and a large desk at the other. Pushed against the wall, near the desk and next to the window, was a beautiful rosewood cabinet, and a man was standing at it, with his back to her, apparently going through some papers.

"ASR, Miss Gupta is here."

"Right, Diana, thank you. You can go home too, but remember we have an early start tomorrow," he replied, without looking around. "Come in, Miss Gupta, and please take a seat. Sorry to keep you waiting. Just give me a minute please," he added.

Diana nodded at Khushi, and went out, closing the door behind her. Khushi went in hesitantly, and stood by the chair.

Arnav Singh Raizada took a long time to turn around, and when he did, he seemed surprised to see her. And puzzled. Not very flattering, thought Khushi, with an inward grimace, considering he had examined her very thoroughly just the previous evening. She waited for a minute or two, as he looked at her, obviously trying to place where he had seen her before.

"Khushi," she said, helpfully. "Shyam's sister. You came to our house yesterday. To threaten Shyam," she added, without emotion.

He looked at her more closely then. His gaze raked her from head to toe, and his eyes narrowed.

"So I did," he said softly. "So I did. Well, well, well. I thought he didn't think himself threatened sufficiently. Apparently, I was wrong. He's scared enough to send his … what was it? … beautiful, young, untouched sister to me. Well, well, well."

She hated the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice when he said that.

"I'm just a messenger," she said, hastily. "He's sent a letter to you. And a message. He asked if you would be satisfied with this as a … deposit, for the time being. Until he can get the money and data back. Please don't start any criminal proceedings yet."

She handed over the thin envelope, hastily. Her fingers touched his, as he took it, and she pulled back her hand, as though the touch had burnt her.

He looked at the letter and then back at her curiously. "Now what does he want to tell me, that he did not tell me yesterday?" he wondered softly.  "If he's begging for more time, he's wasting his time, and mine. And he doesn't have any collateral, at least…," the piercing gaze raked her again, "none that I'm interested in."

He made it sound like an insult.

Khushi shivered, understanding why her brother was so scared of him. She was no guilty party, and she felt terrified.

He ripped open the letter, and read it. She saw a mixture of emotions chase across his face. There was a long silence, and then he looked at her. His caramel brown eyes held an oddly speculative expression as they raked her face, and Khushi shivered again.

"Dear me," he said, softly, silkily. "The innocent little sister is not so innocent after all, is she?"

His words surprised her, jerked her out of her nervousness into blank query. She stared at him, completely lost.

"I beg your pardon?"

He tapped the letter with one lean finger, and looked at her quizzically.

"I presume that this proposal has your approval?"

It was the last comment she expected, and she gaped at him, even more mystified.

He looked at her, impatient at her silence. "Well?"

"Nothing my father or brother do, needs my approval, or my permission," she managed to say, with a faint attempt at maintaining a semblance of poise. "I take their permission, not the other way around."

"This does," he replied, coolly, strolling towards her. "You see, I don't go in for rape."

Her jaw dropped.

He looked at her closely, and came close enough to take her by the shoulders. She twisted out of his grasp, her mind working furiously. What on earth did he mean? What was in that letter?!

"Please," she said, desperately. "Please. I have no idea what you're talking about. I was told to deliver this letter, and wait for an answer, that's all."

"Oh, this is the answer, that I'm giving you," he replied, silkily, and lifting his hand, he ran it lightly, delicately down her cheek. It was a soft touch, but there was nothing remotely gentle or loving about it. It was a calculated insult, the action of a man stamping his seal on a new possession.

Khushi jerked away, her heart beating too fast for comfort. Her eyes were wide, shocked.

He followed her, and grasped her by the upper arms. She stood still, not knowing what to expect. His hand went up to her face again, cupping her jaw. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were watching, observing her narrowly, and she flinched, as much from his touch as from the look in those hard eyes. Suddenly she was very aware that it was late, and they were alone in his office. A chill of fear, stark and icy cold, crept through her.

******

"Mr. Raizada," she said, and she hated the trembling note in her own voice. 

"Please, sir, don't do this. I'll just take the answer to the letter, and go. If you don't give me an answer, they'll beat me. Please, sir …” she tailed off into a whisper, her tone now pleading.

Her tone, more than her words, seemed to reach him. He let her go, and looked at her narrowly, sensing her reluctance, her shame at her situation.

"You really have no idea what's in the letter, do you?" he asked, slowly, watching her face.

She shook her head. "They never tell me anything," she said, flatly, emotionlessly.

He looked at her curiously.

"Khushi? That's your name, isn't it? Tell me something. Are they your real father and brother, or are you a stepchild or adopted or something?"

It was such an unexpected question that she gaped at him dumbly.

He looked at her intently again, and then wordlessly passed her the letter. She took it like an automaton, and started reading it.

Halfway through reading, she looked up in horror at him, and backed away further.

"No!" she whispered, her eyes glazed with shock and horror. How could they do this to her?! How could they?!

ASR smiled at her, but it was not a kind smile.

"So? I asked you a question.  Are they your real brother and father? Do fathers and brothers do this kind of thing in your class of people? I know of people who do this, but we call them something else."

She turned away from that cold face, her hands crumpling the letter in them. For a long moment, she couldn't even answer him, her voice seemed choked in her throat. At last, she spoke, and her voice was thick with unshed tears.

"I've often wondered that myself," Khushi said, huskily. "Now there doesn't seem to be much doubt, does there?"

She wasn't looking at him, so she didn't see his face change. The harsh expression left it, to be replaced by a much gentler look. He said nothing, just waited.

 For a long time, she didn't say anything either. Then, suddenly, as though she couldn't bear it any more, she sank down on the plush carpet, her hands still holding the crumpled letter. She whispered, "What do I do? Oh, god, what do I do? How can he do this?! How can they do this? Do they hate me so much?!"

One solitary tear escaped from her eye, and trickled down her cheek. She held the rest back by sheer force of will. She would not cry in front of him, she would not!

At last, when she felt able to, she looked at him. Her hands crushed the damning letter between them, her knuckles white. She looked at him wordlessly, her face pale and tense with the effort of holding back her emotions. All she wanted to  do was curl herslef up in aball, and cry her heart out. Or run away where no one could reach her ... least of all, Shyam bhaiya and Baba. But she had to deal with this man first ... and the mess she was in. 

ASR cocked an eyebrow at her. His initial scorn and disgust seemed to have faded slightly in the face of her evident distress and shock. Yet there was no trace of softness on that handsome face.

"Well?"

 She couldn't say anything. Hands twisting, mangling the paper they held, she looked at him, silently, beseechingly, but no words came.

He looked at her closely. His expression became ugly.

"How many times have you done this before? How many times has he got out of trouble by using you? Tell me the truth!" he rapped out, and Khushi gasped.

"Never!!! Shyam's never been in trouble like this before! Oh, he's a bully and he's weak, but he's never done something wrong before! And even if he had, I would never…!"

"Shyam has done a lot of things you obviously don't know about," ASR interrupted her, ruthlessly. "It’s just that he got caught this time. I've been on the lookout, but he's been very careful till now. He was obviously getting over-confident. Probably because he felt his sister, his sweet, innocent, young sister…" his gaze raked her as he spoke, "…would get him out of trouble, by seducing his boss."

He pulled her to her feet, and deliberately, slowly, pulled her close, and then, suddenly, jerked her into his arms. His hand came up and traced the outline of her mouth. It was not a loving gesture. It was a slow, deliberate staking of possession.

Khushi gasped at the deliberate insult, and her hand flew out at his cheek. He caught it easily, and held her gaze, shaking his head, mockingly.

"Oh, no, you don't, my dear! You can stay and make good on the promise your brother made! Let me see if you're worth it or not."

His hand held her arm in an iron grip, and she twisted her hand in a futile attempt, to get free, hating the coldly mocking gaze.

"Let me go! I don't care what promises he's made to you! I don't care! They can go to hell! I hate them! And I hate you! Let me go!"

He held her easily, tightly, watching her closely, as she twisted her hand in his grasp, fighting with all her strength, enraged that it took him almost no effort to hold her down. She twisted her hand again, and he held it tighter and pushed it behind her back, bringing her up against him. She gasped, this time with pain, as a piercing agony shot through her arm. Her hand went limp, with the pain, and she sagged. His expression changed.

"What is it? What happened?"

"I think I've twisted something," she moaned out, and he released her. The pain eased slightly as he let her go, but only slightly. She sank down on the floor again, holding her injured hand, tears springing to her eyes. Tears that she valiantly tried to hide, as he knelt down beside her.

"Show me," he said, imperatively, and she shrank from him.

"No! Stay away from me!"

"Don't be silly!" he said, brusquely, and took her hand. Fear of pain kept her still. "I'm not likely to rape you if you're injured, am I?"

He felt along her arm expertly, and Khushi winced. "Ouch!"

He looked at her briefly as he felt her arm. "The pain is here," she muttered, pointing with her other hand to her elbow. "I think I might have pulled a ligament, or something."

“I’ll give you something … a painkiller,” he said. his face was calmer, less harsh suddenly. His voice too, was gentler. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

She shook her head. “I have something at home,” she said almost inaudibly. “I’ll put some anti-inflamm … some gel. It’ll be okay.”

ASR looked at her. "You seem to know what you’re talking about," he commented. It was a question more than a statement. The hardness had left his face slightly and Khushi looked at him directly, somehow not so fearful now.

"I work in a hospital," she said, with some of her usual calm nature. "I deal with accident and injury victims everyday."

He released her and stood up.

"Then what the hell…" he said, reasonably, "are you doing, making offers to seduce your brother's boss, to keep him out of jail? You’re not really the type, are you? And neither am I the kind of person to get carried away that easily, if a pretty girl falls at my feet. Or into my bed," he added.

Khushi's tears were gone now, and subdued fury showed in her face and voice, as it sunk in as to what exactly her brother had offered as 'compensation'.

"I didn't know what was in the letter," she said, equally evenly. "otherwise, I would have walked through hell, rather than carry it here. I'm not like them. Sometimes I wonder….," her voice broke a little, and she stood, too, and turned away, "… if I really am part of the same family. They certainly don't treat me like one of their own."

His gaze was quiet, reflective, as he looked at her. 

"Your mother ...?" he asked, briefly, his tone questioning.

Khushi looked back at him, and somehow she wasn’t so afraid any more. His face was cool, but his eyes held … sympathy?

"My mother died when I was very small," she said reluctantly. "I don't even remember her. My father ran away with her. She was from a rich family. They cut her off, when she ran away, and my father was very upset about that. He had thought that they would forgive her, and him, and he would be rich. But they never did accept either of them. Not even when she tried to take me to them. She died when I was about two years old. Maybe my father’s never forgiven me for that."

ASR nodded, his face blank. Khushi had no clue as to what he was thinking.

"So what will you do now?" he asked her. "Will you go back home and tell them, that you refused to make good on the 'services' Shyam promised to deliver? Or do you want to accept?" he added, almost as an afterthought, and Khushi shuddered.

"No!" she said, hotly. "I…I …." She looked at him, and then looked away from what she saw in his eyes. Was it pity? She didn't know, but at the moment she was past caring. She walked slowly to the window, and gazed blankly out at the bright night lights outside. He mind was in turmoil. What could she do? Where could she go? If she went home and told Shyam that she refused to do what he wanted her to do …. She shuddered at the thought of his reaction, but she knew one thing – she could never do what he wanted her to do. She could not accept to be in this man's hold, at his mercy, as his … she blanched at the thought …till whatever time Shyam decided to return his money and information. She could not. 

But if she did not, then … what? What was she to do?