Beneath The Lies Read online

  She’s breathless and boneless when I rise to grab a condom from the drawer. But before I don it, I remember something she told me.

  She’s still breathing deeply when I lean over her. Her eyes open and she gives me a soft smile.

  “Aaliya, you’re on the pill, right?”

  She nods.

  “So, I don’t need to…”

  She puts her hand around my neck and lowers my mouth to hers in reply. I kiss her softly, positioning her body below mine. I still as her hands roam freely down my back. Just her touch is enough to get me undone. I enter her in a quick thrust and sink into her. Her legs wrap around my waist drawing me further inside her heat. Fuck! I have died and gone to heaven.

  I stay like that for a second until I can’t hold back any longer. My body takes control of my actions and I thrust harder into her, unable to stop. I meet her wide-eyed gaze and see her shocked surprise as her tremors begin anew and her hips rise to join mine. In seconds, her body shatters. I capture her mouth and then my mind blanks out. I still inside her before collapsing on top of her.

  “Fuck, Aaliya, you destroy me each time we make love,” I finally manage to rasp out as I rest my forehead against hers.

  We’re both panting for breath when I move off her and gather her in my arms. She rests her head on my chest and I close my eyes, my body and mind both at peace.

  Aaliya

  Damien’s fallen asleep by my side, curled into me. I relish the familiarity of the moment and stay like that for a few minutes before heading for the shower again. I step out wrapped in a towel. I find Damien’s dark navy blue shirt from the previous night tossed on a chair and decide to wear it. It falls to my knees and I have to fold the arms several times over to be comfortable, but it’ll do for now. I brush my hair and leave it loose.

  Once I’m sufficiently pleased with my attire, I leave the bedroom to explore. His apartment is a big space with an open kitchen, three big bedrooms with attached bathrooms, a huge drawing room, a dining room, a study and a big terraced garden. The furniture is simple and understated everywhere. All taupe and grey colors with wooden floorings in the bedrooms and granite floors in the main areas. The living room is a contrast of leather and wood. A glassed fireplace lines one wall of the living room. It adds an air of coziness to the space. On the whole the apartment is quite stark. There are no photos and no personal items anywhere. A few abstract paintings are placed here and there, but they too follow the same dark theme.

  I bite my lip thinking of our home in Mumbai, which is filled with color and vibrant artwork. Pictures of Damien and me, and now Rian, are lined on shelves and adorn the walls. Exhaling, I head to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee.

  I smile on seeing the coffee machine; it’s a newer version of the one we have back at home in Mumbai. I make myself a cup, adding cream and sugar to it.

  The sudden sound of a door shutting makes me jump out of my skin. I walk hesitantly to the living room where I see Mike all suited up and standing at attention just inside the hallway.

  “Good Morning, ma’am,” he greets me. His gaze never even flicks over me. It just settles at a corner somewhere above my head.

  “Good Morning, Mike. Where did you come from?”

  I explored the whole house and it was empty. So, how did he enter?

  “I live upstairs, Ma’am,”

  “I didn’t see any stairs!”

  He points at the door in the foyer.

  “Oh!” I had assumed that was a coat holder and didn’t care to look further. “It’s a Sunday. Why are you ready for work?”

  “His Grace works several Sundays. I came to check if he wanted to step out for work this morning as well.”

  “He’s sleeping right now. Shall I ask him to call you when he wakes up?”

  He bows his head and turns to leave, but I call out to him. “Wait, Mike!”

  He faces me again.

  “Please, I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

  He quietly follows me into the kitchen. I bid him a seat at the breakfast bar, opposite me.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  I pour him a cup without waiting for him to reply and hand him the steaming brew. I point at the creamer and sugar. He shakes his head at both.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” I joke and he just gives me a straight look in response.

  Sighing, I start again, “I realize it’s your job to look after the security of Damien.”

  He sits with his hands on the mug, his eyes on me, waiting for me to get to the point.

  “That would also include vetting any new person he comes into contact with?” I ask.

  His eyes widen a fraction before the usual calm, unyielding mask slips back on his face.

  “You’re right, Ma’am.”

  I look in the direction of Damien’s bedroom before asking, “So, I can safely assume that you know about me?”

  He sips from his cup before he replies. “I’ve known about you since the first time Mr. Westcott sent me your picture and asked me to keep an eye out for you. He surmised correctly that you would try to make contact with His Grace. And you did, at the coffee shop.”

  I keep my shoulders straight, trying not to show I’m worried, but he misses nothing.

  He glances down into his mug. “I almost told His Grace about you, in Scotland. I have a complete file on you lying in my room upstairs. I know you’re married to him. I know about your son.” He takes a deep breath and raises his eyes to meet mine. “But then the only time His Grace ever expresses any emotion is when he is around you. Hence, I decided to keep my silence. He’s a good man and if you bring him happiness then I won’t get in your way. But you need to tell him, Ma’am.”

  My breath leaves my lungs in a big swoosh. “Thank you, Mike. I appreciate your discretion. May I request you to keep the file to yourself for some more time? I’m just about back in his life and I need a while to tell him everything.”

  He dips his head in agreement and thanks me for the coffee before heading to his room.

  I grab a cookie from the jar on the counter and my eyes are drawn to the sunlight on the terraced garden. I venture outside and wrap my arms around myself against the wind. I lean against the railing to admire the sweeping views of Westminster Abbey, London Eye and the Thames.

  A noise behind me makes me turn and I see Damien standing at the door to the terrace, his arms folded, watching me. He’s wearing a soft grey t-shirt with black cotton pants, his hair wet from the shower.

  “It’s a beautiful view,” I tell him.

  “It sure looks beautiful from where I’m standing,” he says, his eyes locked on me.

  He holds out a hand to me and I go to him. I grasp his hand and we return to the living room and back into the warmth.

  I wave my hand around the apartment. “I like this. You do have beautiful homes indeed.”

  “Wait till you see Heaven’s Gate. You’ll love it. It has acres of forest land, surrounded by hills and a lake so blue it makes your eyes hurt.”

  I’m curious to see his country home, Heaven’s Gate. He speaks of it with so much pride and fondness and now it all belongs to him in every sense of the word. What does he make of it—to know he owns it all?

  “You just returned from there, right?” I ask after a few moments have passed.

  “Yes. You see it’s the only place I thought I could go to escape from a trouble-causing minx. Even that didn’t help my cause, did it? She managed to ensnare me after all.”

  I make a face at him.

  He smiles. “I thought I heard some voices. Was Mike here already?”

  “Yeah, he was. I didn’t know he lived upstairs. I told him you’d call him once you were up. Mike seems to be under the impression that you may go to work today.”

  “I do work many Sundays, not today though.” He holds my waist and pulls me to him. His face dips by the side of my neck and he inhales, breathing my scent. He takes a reluctant step back. “Come on, it’s
the housekeeper’s weekend off, so let’s go out and get something to eat.”

  “Wearing what, your shirt? While this certainly looks fine to lounge around at home, I can’t go out wearing this. And my clothes from last night have disappeared.”

  He gives me a slow lingering look, making me blush. “Well, the shirt sure looks better on you than me. And you’ve plenty of clothes to wear. Didn’t you see inside the wardrobe?”

  I frown. “What are you talking about?”

  He takes my hand once again and leads me to his bedroom. He opens the wardrobe and my brows shoot up to the ceiling as I see dresses, jeans, trousers, jackets, tops and sweaters hanging side by side with his clothes.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know what you’d like so I got a lot. You can return what you don’t want.”

  I check the tags on the clothes and they’re all brand new—and expensive. And they’re all in my size. Before I can digest this, he opens a drawer and there is lingerie in different colors, again designer, and all my size. I don’t think I’ve ever been as speechless as I am right now.

  “How?” I finally stutter out, licking my dry lips. “How did you manage to get all this between last night and this morning?”

  “You forget I did undress you last night. It was easy to get the size from your clothes.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I called my personal shopper and told her to send a few things over. She delivered these in the morning while you were asleep.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  He frowns. “So? Gina’s supposed to be available on all days at all times. No big deal.”

  He speaks of this so casually, as if having a personal shopper is the most natural thing in the world. At times like these, I can’t relate to him at all. No one in my world has a personal shopper on call. And the Damien I knew never showed me in any way that he was entitled enough that people were waiting on him a phone call away, 24/7, just to do his bidding. He was normal. We shopped like normal people did—by ourselves.

  “Are you alright?” Damien asks.

  “Unbelievable! You are quite unbelievable. Why would I need so many clothes?”

  “You think I’m going to let you stay anywhere else now that I’ve finally decided I want to be with you?”

  “What if I don’t want to be with you?” I cock my head to the side.

  His hand twists in the nape of my head and he tugs my face back. His other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “Don’t be defiant just for the sake of it. We both know you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Authoritative much, Damien.”

  “You better get used to me, sweetheart. This is the way I am.”

  Lowering his head, he takes my mouth in a slow kiss, licking my lips and playing with my tongue like he has all the time in the world. My pulse speeds and I try to push closer into him, but his hands at my nape and waist hold me just the way he wishes.

  I’m panting for breath when he finally releases me. His eyes rake over my face and he gives me a smug smile, caressing my lips with his index finger.

  “So, how about food? You want to go out?” he asks.

  “Actually, why don’t I cook us breakfast?”

  “You can cook?” he asks in surprise.

  I laugh. “Of course, I can cook. I make the best Chicken Biryani, remember?”

  “I’d like to be the judge of that one day.”

  “One day, perhaps you will. Well if I can cook that, then the rest is easy.”

  Damien sits at the counter reading the newspaper while I chop onions and mushrooms. I make us omelets and toast and sauté some tomatoes and mushrooms.

  “This was quite good,” he compliments, once he’s done and is sipping his coffee.

  “I’m immensely talented you know,” I remark, waving my fork at him.

  “And I’m learning that.” He toasts me with his mug.

  I pick up my plate and head over to the sink. Damien brings his own vessels over and we wash them together. He washes while I dry. The routine is so normal because it’s something we’ve done together many times.

  “So Aaliya, tell me more about Aaliya Singh,” he says once we are snuggled together on the cozy L-shaped sofa in the drawing room.

  I rest my head on his shoulder, my legs spread out next to his. I suck in a breath, my mind rewinding to five years ago to a similar moment when I’d first told him about myself. I link my hand with his as I start talking. “I’m a single child, not that it makes a difference because I have a huge family of relatives and cousins. It’s crazy, chaotic and sometimes taxing, especially since most of them live in Mumbai and everyone tends to interfere in every else’s business. But on the whole, it’s quite fun. My father was a pilot in the Indian Air Force. He loved to fly and he flew quite a few high-tech jets.”

  His hand plays with mine as I continue, “We moved city to city because my dad’s work required him to relocate often. It was hard for me in terms of school because just when I had adjusted to a new school and new friends, it was time to move again. Then one day, when I was in grade five, I think, I insisted to remain in my current school. I refused to keep relocating and restarting my life. The school I was going to had a boarding as well and Jasmine was there too.”

  “Jasmine?”

  “Oh yeah, Jasmine. She’s my cousin, but more like a sister or a best friend. She was in the same class as me and we refused to be parted because we had grown so close. My mother wanted to stay back with me, but I knew she’d be miserable without Dad. So, I convinced her to go. My parents left for another city and I stayed with Jasmine at the boarding school.”

  He smiles, breathing my hair, kissing the side of my head. “So stubborn even when so young.”

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “Tell me more,” he says.

  “Well, my Dad had an accident in-flight. His jet caught fire but he managed to eject with a parachute. He broke his leg while landing and that was the unfortunate end of his air force career. My parents returned to Mumbai, our home city. My dad’s always enjoyed carving wood and when I was younger, he’d make wooden toys for me in his free time. His love for carving made him start a furniture store in Mumbai. He was one of the first people to liaise with a foreign furniture brand and bring them to India at a time when none existed. My mom helped him out for several years but now she works for an NGO that helps underprivileged women get jobs. Dad still plays a major role in ASD, our furniture store, though.”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  “Yes!” I nod thinking about my parents and Jasmine. They’ve given me their unending support by looking after my son for me while I’m here treading new waters with my husband. “They are quite amazing.”

  “So, you found your love for architecture and design from your Dad?”

  I nod. Damien’s arm snakes around my shoulder. I rub his palm with mine, loving this closeness between us.

  Damien

  Istay silent processing what Aaliya’s shared with me about herself and her life. It just makes me think how different our worlds are and yet here we are, together, as if bound by fate.

  “Damien,” Aaliya soft voice interrupts my thoughts. I link my hand with hers, unable to stop touching her. “Tell me why you pushed me away, why you thought we shouldn’t be together.”

  She gazes at me with eyes that shine with innocence and I begin to speak.

  “My life was completely different from yours. My parents were cold to each other and even colder to me. The greatest joy in their life was my brother, David. They ignored me mostly, while they treated him like a prince. I was born with allergies and my parents hated that I was so unwell most of the time while I was growing up. I was an embarrassment to them, a weakling. I grew up with a succession of nannies, unloved and unattended by my parents. My brother was a pathetic snob, who reveled in my parent’s attention and treated me with disdain all my life. He was a mean and cruel boy who grew up to be a domineering, self-serving arrogant prick. Suffice it to say that with this background,
I grew up rebellious and quite wild.”

  Aaliya’s fingers tighten around mine. I stare at our joined hands. “I’d do anything to annoy them and I did several crazy things. Extreme sports, endless partying, drinking, women, you name it, I did it all. And they hated me more for it. You see, my wild escapades made me a media darling and that stole the attention from their precious David. Fuck! It was fun to infuriate them,” I reminisce, smiling at my notorious past.

  Aaliya punches my shoulder. “And that is why you became the Devil Lord? Just to annoy them? With not a single care to your own well-being?”

  I erase the worry lines from her forehead with my fingers. “I’m fine. Nothing happened to me, Aaliya.”

  I kiss the side of her neck, playfully.

  “So foolish!” She moves away from me, her lips pouting and then pursing in anger. “How could you risk your life so many times like that? I hate your family already. If your father and brother were alive, I would give them a piece of my mind.”

  I draw her back to me and rest my chin on her head.

  “Well, you don’t need to worry about them. It’s just my mother now and she I can handle. Luckily for me, I was never dependent on their wealth. My aunt, Sylvie, left me a fortune so they could never control me. I found a way to fully escape them once I started the business with Gabe. They resented my success. Resented the fact I’d never bow down to David, the future Duke. And look what fate did? I became the Duke instead of him. It’s ironical and still unbelievable at times.”

  Aaliya turns to face me. “Why did you leave it all behind?”

  I think back, pushing my mind to remember something. But as usual, my head starts to hurt when I put too much pressure on my brain. So, I quit that futile exercise. Immediately, the pressure on my brain dissipates.

  “I don’t remember. Gabe says something happened between David and me five years back and that’s why I decided to leave everything behind and move away from London. Gabe doesn’t know what it was, but I’m pretty certain it must have been something drastic because I was never afraid of David.”