Beneath The Lies Read online

  Jonathan breaks the stillness. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” I say.

  We lapse into silence again.

  I clear my throat. “Jonathan, I know I’ve been distant lately. I haven’t accepted any of your invites, but I’m just too darn busy with everything right now.”

  He takes a second to reply, watching me intently. “You haven’t been in touch for five years Damien, so I guess it’s nothing new to me.”

  “Don’t harbor resentment towards me for a circumstance I genuinely can’t recollect. It’s not like I can justify the hows and whys of what I did when I don’t remember it myself.”

  Jonathan crosses his arms in front of him. “You guys were my best friends Damien, you and Gabriel both. And then one day, you disappeared. Just like that! I tried to reach you. I looked everywhere for you. But you were gone. Here I was, petrified that something awful had befallen you, while Gabriel was going on with his life like nothing had happened. And then it struck me—he’d never behave so nonchalant, unless he knew where you were.” He shakes his head. “You both decided to keep me out and let me believe that something terrible had happened to you. You’ve been gone for five years now, so forgive me if any justification you make sounds cold and served too late.”

  A frustrated breath escapes my lips. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

  “Forget it. Just forget the whole damn thing.” Jonathan shakes his head. “I didn’t call you here to resurrect the past. I called you here because I specifically want you to design the new wing of my house.”

  My shoulders slump and I open my mouth to defend myself, but I don’t. I expected some understanding from Jonathan, but listening to him, I get why he is still upset with me. And since he doesn’t want to continue this discussion, I decide to let it be for now. “Fine. Let’s get on then. Isn’t a tour of the new wing on the agenda?”

  Jonathan gives me a wily smile, putting me instantly on alert. My brows shoot up. What is he up to now? Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like whatever it is? He can be utterly devious when he wants to be.

  “The thing is,” he says, “I was waiting for a rather special guest to arrive before I give you the tour. You see…” and before he finishes, I hear noises outside. I turn to the study door and my jaw drops as Aaliya Singh walks in.

  “And there she is,” Jonathan exclaims and rushes towards her. He holds her hands rather longer than needed and plants a kiss on her cheek. He helps her out of her coat, talking to her all the while. I roll my eyes and turn to look outside the window, waiting for Jonathan to finish fussing over her.

  When I turn to them again, Jonathan is leading Aaliya towards me. Her eyes drift to mine. I cross my arms in front of me and stare at her. What is going on and why is she here?

  Jonathan interrupts our staring contest as he jovially says, “Aaliya, of course, you know the Duke of Kittridge, right?”

  “Of course,” she replies, her eyes on me.

  He addresses me. “You see, I spoke to Aaliya at your mother’s gala. It was real good fortune that we were seated together. We spoke a lot about her work and I quite liked some of her ideas.”

  “Hmmm,” I say between clenched teeth, my eyes still on Aaliya. Now I know exactly where this conversation is heading.

  “Yes,” he replies, “we met last evening and discussed several design opportunities in detail and I’m certain she’ll be a great addition to our team to renovate this new wing. You see, her ideas are brilliant. She has so much knowledge on the Indian and Eastern cultures. That knowledge and experience is exactly what I’m looking for.”

  “Is that right?” My voice is clipped and rather sharp, but he’s unperturbed.

  He rubs his hands in delight. “I think we’re going to make a great team, the three of us. I can’t wait for you two to transform the new wing of this house.”

  His cell phone rings before I can form a reply and he excuses himself, leaving Aaliya and me alone.

  Aaliya

  Idrink him in, literally. I run my eyes over every part of him, grateful that he’s in one piece. He’s once again dressed in a three-piece suit, charcoal grey with a white shirt. The bright red pocket square folded sharply in his left pocket stands out vividly. Dark shadows surround his eyes, there is a tick in his jaw visible even from where I’m standing and his lips are set in a sharp straight line. I’ve waited two days to see him, and now I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s fine—angry but fine nonetheless.

  Damien hasn’t stopped staring at me since I’ve entered. His gaze is hard and assessing. I can practically hear the wheels spinning inside his head.

  “Hello, again,” I tell him in a soft voice.

  He takes his own time to reply.

  “Hello…again, Miss Singh!” His tone is brusque, sharp.

  “I saw the news about the shooting. How are you?”

  He waves a hand out. “I’m fine. It’s been a tough time.”

  One thing I did decide after his shooting incident is that I have no choice but to continue down the path Gabe has suggested. I’ve to try and make Damien remember me first, perhaps even fall for me again before I tell him about us. I need to be certain that he won’t reject Rian or me when he finds out the truth; I have to ensure my baby’s safety at all times. Because, if what Gabe says is true and if the people after Damien can risk shooting at him in broad daylight, then I am certain they have enough resources to get to Rian. He is our weakness and at this point, I don’t want Damien to be weak any more than he already is, thanks to his memory loss.

  Jonathan’s call last evening came as a blessing in disguise. It gave me an excuse to stop pacing the house, to stop thinking and get out of my pajamas. And now thanks to him I’m here once again in front of my husband.

  Damien breaks into my train of thoughts. “Did you know I’m working on this project with Sommerfield?”

  “Jonathan did mention it when we met for dinner last night.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Jonathan is it?”

  I shrug my shoulders.

  “I don’t like surprises, Miss Singh and I don’t like being played.”

  “Why do you think that you’re being played? I understood from Jonathan that your team hasn’t been able to give him what he wants whereas with my background and experience I probably can. So why not make the most of this arrangement? You may be amazed and may learn something in the process.”

  “Cocky aren’t you, Miss Singh?”

  “Not cocky, confident. And besides after that evening spent in your library, I quite think that we have moved way beyond formality, so call me Aaliya like you did before. I sure as hell am going to call you Damien, no matter what your title is.”

  Heat stirs in his eyes at my words reminding me of what transpired between us in the library during the gala. His eyes wander over me in that all too familiar way and my skin sighs in delight. Damn! Being intimate with him has always clouded my brain and I need all my wits around me to deal with him because he’s different now from before. He’s just more of everything. He’s more certain of himself and so much more controlling. Even his aura exudes power. He’s totally unlike the gentle and calm man I fell in love with.

  I remind myself that I have to stay in control of all our interactions. I can’t let what happened in the library repeat no matter how much I want him because he has to fall in love with me first. I refuse to be just another woman he slept with.

  Damien

  Aaliya has been on my mind ever since the gala. I was determined to make her acquaintance again, but then the shooting happened and everything else took a backseat. Involving her in my life is definitely not safe for her; still, my body and brain don’t get that memo because now that she’s here, thrown in my path once more, I’m not sure I want to let her be.

  She speaks of our dalliance in the library so casually as if she were impervious to it, when I know she was anything but. She screamed for me that night and she will scr
eam for me again and again when I plunder that delicious body of hers. Every part of me welcomes that thought as I run my eyes over her.

  The cream shift dress she’s wearing looks soft. It has a turtleneck with long sleeves and fits her chest snugly. It tapers on her narrow waist and then falls to just above her knees. Her perfectly shaped legs are tucked into brown thigh length boots, which give a glimpse of her thigh as she walks. I like the hint of pink on her lips and I love that her eyes are dark lined as usual. This morning her hair is tied up in a twist at her nape.

  The same red shawl I’ve seen her in before is draped loosely around her neck. It fires my imagination with images of the red silk bound around her wrists. She’s gorgeous and I want her. But that has no standing on our current situation because I will never jeopardize my work over a woman.

  “I don’t know you, Aaliya and I don’t work with strangers,” I tell her as politely as I can because none of this is her fault.

  A flicker of some emotion crosses her face at my words but she blinks it away. She takes a step towards me. “Then perhaps you need to get to know me. Give me a chance, Damien. I am good at what I do. Spend this day with me, hear my ideas, see my work and at the end of today if you still think we’re not a right fit together, I will bow out.”

  Her words sound sincere.

  “Fine, let’s see how today goes. You’re already here and if you are as talented as you claim to be then who knows, perhaps we can make this project a success together. However, I’ll evaluate that only after I assess more of your work.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I ask,” she responds.

  Jonathan’s loud footsteps echo in the background. Entering the room, he looks from me to Aaliya and back at me before he asks, “Well, everything in order between you two?”

  “Miss Singh and I understand each other perfectly,” I tell him. “However, if you threaten me once more to give the project to another firm or if you pull a stunt like this and hire someone without my knowledge or permission then, by all means, go ahead and do find yourself another firm to work with. Are we clear?”

  His expression hardens as he gives me an angry glare. But he sighs and relents with a bow of his head.

  “Crystal clear!”

  “Well then,” I say. “We’re ready for the tour.”

  Aaliya

  Jonathan’s Scottish estate is far removed from civilization and stretches over acres of land. The new wing extends perpendicular to the existing house making the mansion into an L shaped edifice. It’s devoid of any furnishings and is just a massive empty space of rooms and corridors. I can already think of several ideas that I’d like to implement here and I keep noting them on my phone. I snap several pictures of the rooms, the doors, the ceiling beams etc., while Jonathan guides us through it.

  I’ve spoken a lot, asked plenty of questions while Damien’s just been brooding in that typical manner I’ve now come to associate with him—the new him or rather the post-accident him. He’s hardly spoken, letting me carry the reins of the conversation. He just asks a few pointed questions here and there, and goes back to brooding by my side. Why is he so quiet? What are his ideas for this project? Why does he not bring them forth?

  Our earlier argument is still playing at the back of my mind, adding to my disappointment. I didn’t expect him to retaliate as angrily as he did. It’s just not like him at all. The fact that he so outright told me that he doesn’t work with strangers hurt. When he told me that he doesn’t know me, his words pinched something in my chest. Thinking about it even now pains me. I bite my lower lip so hard I taste blood. I swipe it away with my tongue. No matter how many conversations I’ve had with myself about taking this situation calmly, I’m human and I’m angry and hurt. We’ve been a team for so long and now I have to prove myself to him.

  I take a deep breath and stop the pity party going on in my mind. I have to get my head back in this game, which starts with me getting my husband to work with me. As we reach the end of the wing, an idea takes shape in my mind.

  “Can we take this wall down?” I ask Jonathan, pointing towards the last wall that marks the end of the entire wing. It has huge glass doors that open into the garden.

  Damien looks at me with his arms folded in front of him. “What do you have in mind?”

  I step towards the glass doors and open them. “I think we should take down this wall and these doors and extend this room with a complete glass enclosure so you can feel the sun on your face on a bright summer day and see the stars on a clear night. It’ll be like a room within a room. We can have one of those hanging fire places here,” I say pointing to a far corner. “And a cozy seating here.” I point to where I am standing. “I can just imagine extending the walls of this room to glass walls on three sides, plus a glass ceiling. Better yet, a domed ceiling. It will look spectacular and will make a lovely lounge to relax in.”

  I turn to both the men in front of me. Jonathan walks towards the glass doors and looks around. “Yes! I like it,” he says. “We can do this. What do you say, Damien?”

  Damien slowly nods his head and asks me a couple of quick questions which I answer in a firm voice. This is what I’m good at and it’s time to prove it. We volley back and forth for a few minutes until he says, “I think this idea has merit.”

  A warm glow lights up inside me as I do a victory dance in my head. Perhaps I can convince him to work with me after all.

  We return to the main house and I stop at the double doors that connect the two wings. A sudden idea pops up in my mind for these doors and I flick through the photos on my phone as I look for a picture of something I’m certain will fit beautifully here. I walk in and out of the doors in delight as more images click in place inside my head.

  Damien

  Aaliya keeps returning to the entrance of the new wing. She’s clicked pictures of it, measured it with a tape and made several notes on her phone. I don’t understand her fascination. But, her idea of the glass enclosure attached to the lounging room is exceptional. It is interesting and will add more character to this wing, which is just a bunch of boring walls as of now.

  She’s asked many questions to Jonathan and now we know that he wants this wing to comprise of a den, a lounge, a sound-proof party room and two guest bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms. He does want a lot of Indian and Eastern elements in this side of the house and that’s probably where Aaliya comes in. So far, she seems to be pretty confident and competent.

  Throughout the tour, she’s remained by my side, casting surreptitious glances my way. Her eyes flitter away the moment I catch her staring. She returns to stand by my side and I inhale her delicious scent. It wraps around my senses, teasing me once again. My body literally aches to move closer to her. I can no longer ignore this pull between us. It’s like an invisible lasso around us, pulling us towards one another, the loop tightening and tightening around us with every passing second.

  Ever since I received the note and then the shooting episode, my mind has been going in circles trying to figure out what is going on, trying to remember what my father or brother have done that was so vile that someone wants us all dead. The only time my mind is at ease is when she’s around. It makes no fucking sense, none at all. Perhaps the combination of intelligence and those striking exotic looks is what captivates me, I think.

  Jonathan’s voice reverberates in the empty space, bringing me back to the present. We walk back towards the main house as he explains the history of his estate to Aaliya.

  Thunder booms in the distance. I squint to look outside the window and find a white blanket of snow covering everything.

  “Apologies, Jonathan,” I interrupt his conversation with Aaliya, “we’ll have to cut short this meeting. I need to return to London before the weather takes a turn for the worse.”

  Aaliya looks outside the window and then at the time on her watch.

  “If what Damien says is true then I need to get to the airport too,” she says.

  “Nonsense
,” Jonathan waves his hand, “there is no need to be overly cautious. This is Scotland—one minute it’s snowing, then its clear skies. Please allow me to invite you both to stay for lunch.”

  I shake my head in a definitive no. I know these highlands like the back of my hand and I’m sure that there’s a storm brewing. Jonathan too knows that, yet he persists.

  “Then, Aaliya, why don’t you stay back,” he tells her. He touches her elbow in a familiar gesture that makes me want to slap his hand away from her.

  “I will ensure you get to the airport post lunch, don’t worry Aaliya,” Jonathan suggests.

  “I’m sorry, but I should be going too, Jonathan. I need to get a flight back before the weather worsens,” she tells him politely. “Please, could you call a cab for me?”

  Before Jonathan can say anything, I interject, “My jet’s waiting at a private air field close by. Why don’t you just fly back with me?”

  Her eyes widen as they rest on me. “Your jet?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. There is plenty of space.”

  “Thank you. That’s kind of you to offer.” She turns to Jonathan. “I will call you and be in touch.”

  We don our coats and I lead her out of the house to where Mike is waiting with the car.

  “So, what do you think?” Aaliya asks me as soon as we’re seated inside the Range Rover.

  “About what? The project or about us working together?” My tone is sharp.

  Her mouth sets in a straight line.

  “Both,” she replies, her chin jutting out.

  “The project doesn’t concern me much because Jonathan’s estate is just one of the many I’ve worked on. As far as working with you goes, I still need to assess how competent you are. Spending a few hours roaming an estate doesn’t give me an insight to whether you’re good enough to work with me.”

  I’m being hard on her but before discussing more of her work and experience, there’s no chance I’ll bring her into the project, whether I’m attracted to her or not.