Chapter 28 - Its game time

A Quick Note

A lot of you asked about TFS, just wanted to let you know, I will make it available via Amazon at a nominal charge. The proceeds will be donated to a local charity in Chicago called Loaves and Fishes Food Pantry. I hope you wont mind securing a personal copy all the while helping a good cause.

I have an ideation for another Arshi story and will be writing in a couple of months. Please stay tuned to this blog or follow me @serialjunkie1 on Twitter for updates.

Finally, I am so happy and thrilled that many of you enjoyed this story. This was my maiden adventure into thriller genre and I am glad it succeeded in parts to entertain you. Thank you for being a reader, without you, stories do not matter. 

Hugs
SJ

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you ready for this?” Shyam asked with an incredulous expression.

“Yes”

“There will be questions, uncomfortable, annoying questions. Can you handle it?” he repeated his concern.

“I handled you, didn’t I? I can do this.” Khushi rose from her chair and straightened her charcoal grey pencil skirt. She wore a becoming pink silk blouse with boat neck, adorned with a single simple strand of pearls, and simple grey pumps to complete her look. Her hair had grown considerably longer since Zurich, and she had tied it up in a professional looking high pony tail. Nothing ostentatious, nothing garish, paradoxical to what she was about to do.

The double leaf door to the large conference room opened and Khushi stepped onto the plush carpet of the hall. The sea of flashlights and cameras buzzed into action, nearly blinding her for a second. The room was packed to standing room only. A row of seats had been set up on stage with microphones. A suited body guard guided her to the stage as she took the center seat. Gitu and NK followed her to the stage and flanked her on either side, ever the protective friends they’d proven to be. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she only saw strangers. She fought her rising desire to see the familiar caramel brown eyes, melting with love just for her. The room was full of people and yet, she felt awfully lonely. She missed Arnav.

Shyam sensed her discomfort and leaned into whisper into her ears, “You can do this, honey. You are strong and you have chosen the right thing to do. I am with you, all through the way.” He placed a fleeting kiss on top of her head and took his seat. She felt a temporary surge of warmth as she marveled how far Shyam and she had come in mending the untenable mess between them. Her cheeks struggled to hold a smile but she tried anyway.

The crowd settled and a note of silence fell in the room. All eyes were glued to her, press reporters waited with note pads and recording devices to capture every word she had to say. She turned to look at Shyam who was seated two seats away from her. He nodded and winked another vote of confidence.

What a difference a year made - twelve months, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 mins, 31 million seconds and counting. The time she’d carried the gaping hole in her soul, which cried for its soulmate. The time since some old foes had become important to her, like Shyam, who had been deeply penitent and did everything in his power to right the wrong he had done by her. The time when some family turned to foes, like Payal, whose venomous rants had escalated to psychopathic paranoia even as she served time behind bars. The time for her to seek forgiveness and absolution had arrived. She missed Arnav, she needed him and yet she didn’t want to pull him across the morass she had found herself in the year since the deadly shoots in Zurich.

Arnav had been badly hurt. The FBI escorted by Gitu and NK had intervened just in time but not soon enough to stop Arnav from getting shot. Her last memory of him was seeing him covered in blood, laying still on the floor, while a  medical emergency team worked on him. She had passed out.

When she regained her bearings in a hospital, she wanted to know how he was. Gitu had ensured her that Arnav was critical but stable. She wanted to be by him, and by the time she regained her strength to walk and find Arnav in the hospital, he had checked out. Never to be heard from, again.

A lump began forming in her throat as she remembered those first days back from Zurich. She missed him as if a part of her body had been severed.  God knows she’d tried persuading NK, and Kevin to tell her his whereabouts. Neither divulged anything about him, stating only that he was on extended leave and did not wish to be disturbed. The first months were hard on her.

She’d never imagined she’d fall so hopelessly in love with someone. In less than a month since she’d met Arnav, she’d gone from resenting him as her protector to falling in love with him to a point of no return. Although in the last few months, the constant agony of missing him had dulled into a silent throb, ever present and ever reminding her of the place in her heart that will never be filled by another man. She took a breath in and began to speak to the waiting eyes and ears.

“Hello” she began nervously, casting her eyes across the room to find a reassuring pair of eyes to focus. “Thank you for joining me today. My name is Khushi Gupta, I am a doctor at the Northwestern Memorial ER and I have an announcement to make that might be of interest to you, and to many historians who seek information on World War 2, Nazi exploitation of Jews and the Holocaust.”

With each revelation to the press, her chest felt light from one less worry. In the year since her return from Zurich, she’d worked extensively with FBI to give them details and locations of everything she remembered. She wanted the mafia routed and was determined to do her bit. What she didn’t know was what to do with the spoils, the so called inheritance. She needed to find a way to make it public, so that any sleeper cell of mafia with future designs on that money would never dream of touching it. She had to make it public and big. That’s when she’d decided to call the press conference. In a sadistic way, she thought she could erase the past by shaming her bloodied heritage in public. It was beginning to work.  

“I am the bastard child of the Royal Prince of Gwalior, Maharaja Mahinder Singh.” She labored the words, laying special emphasis on the word “bastard”, because that’s how she felt on most days, a fake, and a pretender who was thrust into life without a mooring. A collective murmur engulfed the gathering as many heads nodded in approval while others in disapproval of her confession.

“My mother was Jewish, a commoner, her name was Sara Schwab. My parents had me out of wedlock when my father went seeking the rightful owners of the ill begotten wealth of my ancestors. I regret to say that my great grandfather, a royal of indomitable reputation in India was…a man who made an Unholy Pact with the devil, the Nazis” A furor erupted in the room as the press members shifted and scuttled at the revelation.

It was a long day. Khushi didn’t spare any details of her heritage and how the story had unfolded for her. She spared Shyam and his horrid details as he had done enough and more to atone for his doings. She carefully recounted how her great grandfather colluded with Nazis in a misguided attempt to secure the wealth for his future generations. She allowed as many details as FBI would let her to the press. At the end, when the room was finally settling into understanding the burden and empathized even, with her, she laid her future plan.

“I plan to donate all $15 billion of historical artifacts and jewelry to museums, and charities. Barring one painting done by my great grandfather Jakub Schwab, called The Virgin With Daisies, I am donating the entire $50 million worth of his work to museums in Zurich and Chicago. I feel the need to honor my mother’s memory who had suffered in enough and died young. The cash from government bonds will be used to build Sara Schwab Children’s wing at the hospital.”

“I want to add that I don’t think my father was a culprit, I just think he was a weak man. I cannot accept the title or heritage of his family because it will be a constant reminder to me of the gory past both of my mother and of the war. Therefore, I formally renounce all my royal ties, titles and lineage. My parents are Dr. Sasi Gupta and Mrs. Garima Gupta.” Khushi paused to compose herself and continued, “I miss my parents. So mom and dad, if you are watching this, I want to come home.”

The floor opened for questions and the excitement in the room was out of control. A good time passed before the question and answer session settled into a cadence.

“Do you have a boyfriend? What does he have to say about all this?” a young perky girl asked.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Khushi brushed the question off.

“Did you have one? Did he leave you because of this?” the young one insisted.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She bristled. Then she looked straight at the camera that was focused on her. “I thought I had a soulmate, a man whose memories stay embedded in me. And it does not matter how long it takes, I will wait. After today, I don’t need to carry the weight of my past with me. I am free, free to live and free to love, again.”

A lone tear fell from her right eye. Finding the perfect picture moment to end the story of the century, the cameras clicked away.

****

ASR sunk his head into the pillow and screamed. He had missed her like no man could miss a woman. He knew it was impossible for him to ever fall in love with another woman. There could be no other in his life. He ached for Khushi, body and mind. Her laughter, her cheeriness, her goodness and her ethereal beauty gnawed him and reminded him of his own inadequacy as a man. Why did he let her go?

“Did you see the press conference?” Anjali walked in with a tray of coffee and snacks. He sat up, disheveled and unshaven. He had been visiting his sister’s house for the holidays. He had made sure a security detail was watching Khushi from a distance and reporting to him periodically. But god, did he miss her!

“Yes”

“She misses you, Arnav. I can see it in her eyes. Hell, she even sent an open invitation to you.”

“I can’t.” he contemplated the coffee cup to distract his aching need for Khushi.

“Why not? She is free. She is free to love you. She is not a rich spoilt princess, Arnav. She is a living, breathing human being, who is madly in love with you.” She rose from the bed and cast him a disapproving look.

“Now, Arnav Singh Raizada. I never took you for a loser. But if you lose that girl, all I can say is I’ve never seen a bigger Jack Ass than you!” with that she stomped out of the room

His sister had the uncanny ability to lay the truth like it is. Arnav stared at the screen. The news channels were going bonkers over Khushi’s news. Her pictures were splashed all over the screen, “Billionaire heiress gives it all up. Says she is free to live and love.” Marquees scrolled under the screen.

He sat there glumly watching the screen for a few more minutes. The he threw the comforter off, jumped off the bed, and dashed out like a cheetah on steroids.

*****

 

The front door bell rang with demanding insistence. Set in a handsome neighborhood of Andersonville, Khushi’s modest town-home was an upgrade from her apartment . The neighborhood consisted of rows of town-homes occupied by hip yuppies and young families. She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and shoved the cake pan into the oven. A bit of cake dough remained stuck to her chin.

Baking was a new hobby she’d picked to keep her mind occupied. She set the oven to bake and rushed to the front door. She was enjoying the relative ease of a lazy Saturday afternoon. She went about barefoot and braless, while her pale pink PJs with spaghetti strap tank top did nothing to protect her from the cold outside, but she preferred them to warm clothes. Her hair was rolling in tendrils out of a rough bun she’d put up. She strode to the door and customarily peeked through the peep hole.

If there was a moment of freaking out, this was it. Outside the door, she saw a sight for her sore eyes, a sight she had waited months to see.  There he was. More handsome than she remembered, clean shaven, with a short crew cut that gave him a school boyish charm. She could sense the devilish smirk through the door. She clutched her chest to calm her thumping heart.

She couldn’t be seen like this. Oh God! She peeked at the console mirror and made a face. Oh God, what now.

The door bell rang again followed by loud thumping.

“Khushi, I know you are in there. Open up. I can hear you.”

Oh Jesus, that deep baritone. Her stomach did a somersault at that voice. She had forgotten what it felt to be with a real man, a sexy man like Arnav, and then the memory of their first kiss flashed through her mind. She missed him, she needed him.

Dammit!

She flung the door open and stood with hands on her hips, shoring as much nonchalance as she could muster. Inside, her heart raced wildly and her legs shook with excitement.

“Now, don’t go breaking my door. Isn’t it enough you broke my heart?”

Arnav turned and dropped his jaws open. She was beautiful. He didn’t hear anything she said, none of the accusations, anger, protests registered with him. He simply stepped forward and followed her into the house, as she jabbered away a litany of complaints and wrongs he did.

He pulled her by the waist, roughly turned her around lifting her by her waist and planted a kiss on her soft lips. The words stopped. A silence fell in the room, only punctuated by breathless whispers and whimpers of two frayed souls who had stayed away from their salves for too long. The stirring kiss brought back all the memories Khushi had tried to bury, unsuccessfully

"God! I've wanted to do that for so many months." he gushed with satisfaction/

She pulled away to catch her breath.”Why did you leave me?” It was a simple question, yet the pain behind it was immense.

“I am sorry, Khushi. I really am. But you must know, I never left you.” He answered earnestly. “I was always there, watching you from a distance. I had been assigned to your security detail. But I had to be invisible to make sure you and the remainder of mafia never suspected it.” He rattled off and tightened his arms around her waist. She braced her hands against his chest defensively, still not ready to accept his explanations. He inhaled the mild vanilla odors on her skin from her baking and in an impulsive move, licked the dough stuck on her chin. She turned her face away, still resisting his advances.

“You mean, you knew what I was doing, where I was all this time? And not once did you want to talk to me?” she held his shoulders away from her, as her dangling feet struggled to find firm ground. 

He cupped the back of her head and pulled her face to his. The spicy musk of his aftershave and the vanilla on her skin created a heady concoction. Khushi looked away and involuntarily stretched her neck giving him access to her soft skin. He didn’t miss the invitation and lowered his mouth to nibble the sensitive spot, nuzzling her with his rough jaw. She shivered at the unexpected burn on her skin.

“I cried for you, Arnav and it didn't bother you, why?” she complained, as he drew circles on her clavicle with his tongue.

“I couldn’t” he laid another hot kiss on the side of her neck and trailed down to the thin strap of her top. “I had to protect you, I couldn’t have us both vulnerable. If the mafia knew you were helping the FBI, your life could have been in danger. Most of them know me, I would have brought danger right to your doorstep.” He moved the strap with his teeth revealing a creamy shoulder. He bit down on it hungrily, sucking in the smooth feel of her skin.

“Oh!” she blurted, both accepting his explanation and soaking in his attention to her.

He pushed down the other strap too, revealing the top flesh of her breasts. He found her even more toned and fit than he remembered and a deep pang of desire shot through him. She clutched the lapels of his jacket and laid feathery kisses on his jaw, giving in to his musky odors. His calloused caresses brought back the glorious times they had spent together. She whimpered and pressed closer to him, declaring to him that there was no turning back.

“Khushi?”

“Yes.”

The words weren’t completed. They didn’t need to be completed. She knew what he was asking and she gave him her simple answer, readily. He lifted her and carried her further into the house to her bedroom, striding with the confidence of a man who just won over the world. The lovers knew it would be months before they'd emerge for sunlight and it was just as well.

 

The End