Beneath The Lies Read online

  It’s been two months, ten days and nine hours since I lost my husband. I say lost because I do not recognize the man I’ve been observing for the last half an hour.

  “So, you’re actually going behind Gabe’s back and introducing yourself to Damien?” my cousin Jasmine asks me.

  A weary sigh escapes my lips. “Gabe’s not given me much of a choice. He doesn’t know I’m here. I tricked him into telling me where he would be meeting Damien next. I’m just waiting for Gabe to arrive. He’ll have no choice but to back me up when I tell Damien about me…about us.” I lick my lips. “I can no longer stay away from him, Jas. It’s been two whole months since he screamed and lost consciousness when I stood in front of him. Our son turned one and his father wasn’t there.”

  My gaze shifts back to Damien drinking him in once again. He’s fiddling with his phone, a finger rubbing up and down his right temple, that all too familiar gesture making my heart ache. Arriving in the café, I literally halted in my tracks on seeing him seated alone at that corner table. Forcing my legs to move and not run to him was a challenge—a true test of my resolve to wait for the right time to bring him to me. God! Love is hard; singers write songs about it, poets have written odes to it, but only now I truly know how hard it really is.

  “You know,” Jasmine says, “I would’ve never recognized him had I seen him alone somewhere. He looks so different, like he’s shed a skin.”

  She’s right. Damien looks different from the man I fell in love with and married. Gone are the glasses and the stylish beard that my husband always wore. Now he’s shaved clean, with only slight stubble and no glasses. My Damien laughed easily, looked relaxed and had a twinkle in his eye that made him so very approachable. This man, on the other hand, has a carved, severe expression on his face that says, ‘Don’t you dare come closer if you want to live’. Every time he raises his eyes to scan the door, the walls around him raise a notch higher. He looks like he owns the world and he knows it.

  Those beautiful grey green eyes look striking against the sharp planes of his aristocratic face. His straight patrician nose, high cheekbones and chiseled jaw—everything about him—screams wealth and privilege. His honey blonde hair is cut short, cropped close to his head, perhaps because of the accident and the subsequent surgery he has gone through. His dark three-piece suit is a far cry from the casual and relaxed pants and shirts he wore while working back home in Mumbai. Of course, I’ve seen him in a suit before, but nothing as formal and perfectly fit as this. He carries this attire with so much elegance and grace, like he was born to dress like this. And he was, only I didn’t know it.

  Tears prick behind my eyes, a constant reminder of the nightmare I’ve been through. But I refuse to let them fall. I promised myself I would be strong and see this through until the end. I promised my one-year old son when I left him behind in Mumbai with my parents that I would bring his father back to him.

  Turning my gaze away from Damien, I check the time on my phone. Where is Gabe? Why is he late?

  “Did you know that the media have nicknamed him The Devil Duke?” Jasmine pulls me out my thoughts. She has been busy updating herself on the latest news on Damien ever since she landed in London this morning.

  She works as a personal stylist to several celebrities in India and is returning from Italy where she attended the wedding of a famous movie star couple, one of which is her client. Jasmine only has a few hours free before she flies to Mumbai to attend the reception of the same couple.

  “Shit! Aaliya,” Jasmine exclaims scrolling through her phone, her eyes narrowing or widening, depending on what she is reading. “How could we have not known about his earlier life? I still can’t believe he’s a Duke like Prince Harry except that Harry is a royal.”

  “Damn, he was wild,” she continues. “Bungee jumping in Macau, base jumping in Norway, skydiving, snowboarding down dangerous slopes, motor bike racing, he’s done it all. No wonder he was called the Devil Lord back then.”

  Once again, my gaze lands on Damien. How could the same person have two such contrasting personalities? I had never pegged the Damien I knew to be an adrenalin junkie. The most daredevil thing I’ve seen him do was take a ride on the most thrilling roller coasters when we visited the Six Flags theme park in California.

  Now, after spending days stalking Damien on the Internet, I have learnt several hitherto unknown details about him. His love for extreme sports was insane, as if he had a death wish. The Devil Lord has become the Devil Duke and the whole of England seems to wait with bated breath to see what he does next.

  When I remain silent, Jasmine touches my hand. “All this is hard to take in for me, I can barely imagine what you’re going through.”

  I finally look at her. “It is hard. Apart from his love for extreme sports, I’ve seen pictures of him with a multitude of beautiful women—actresses, models and even European royalty. It boggles my mind that he fell for me. Me! I’m just an average Indian girl.”

  I cluck my tongue. “And now, to know that he is this powerful aristocrat, completely out of my league.”

  She squeezes my hand. “Don’t underestimate yourself ever, Aaliya. You are gorgeous, intelligent and successful. He left this life for a reason, one that you don’t know. He escaped to India to disappear obviously and he found you instead. You! I’ve seen you two together. He was crazy about you. So, do not for one minute, think any less of yourself. You are special.”

  She gives me an encouraging nod. Jasmine’s been there with me throughout my brief affair and subsequent marriage to Damien. My family is huge and super conservative. Me wanting to marry a ‘foreigner’, a ‘gora’, had raised so many eyebrows. It was the biggest controversy to hit my family in probably forever and was the family gossip for days.

  My attention shifts to Damien. He stands and greets a woman in front of him. My jaw clenches as Celia Parker kisses my husband’s cheek. He pulls a chair for her and she seats herself opposite him.

  “Why is she here? That woman…I hate her!” I comment, my lips twisting in anger. I explain who she is to Jasmine and we watch them both interact.

  Seeing Celia reminds me of her mouth on Damien’s and although I know the truth now, I doubt I can forget that image anytime soon. Damien, however, is conversing with her as if he’s forgiven her, as if it was perfectly normal that she falsely claimed to be his wife.

  “It’s time, Aaliya. I have to go,” Jasmine says several minutes later. “Are you sure you will manage alone? The last week must have been hard for you. You’ve never lived in a new city, never been alone. Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

  “I'll be fine,” I state, my voice thick with conviction.

  I’m no longer that alone frightened girl, out of her depth in a new city, especially one like London. With its wide diaspora of people, places I have only read of in books and seen on TV, a wide network of metros and diversity of cultures, London is quite overwhelming, especially to someone like me who’s never lived alone in another city.

  But this last week I’ve stepped out and learned to navigate the metros and familiarized myself with my surroundings. The Internet is my best friend these days and, thus so far, I’ve managed my way around. I was even able to rent a quaint apartment right next to Hyde Park thanks to some fantastic websites.

  “I need you to return home to Mumbai and help my mom take care of my son. Look after my boy, Jasmine. He needs you right now. So please be there for him. He needs familiar faces around and he adores you.”

  I check the time once again and we both stand up. Jasmine gives me a quick hug and leaves to catch her flight.

  I order a refill of my coffee and keep my eyes on Damien. Rolling my shoulders, I sit up straight in my chair and take a deep breath. I’ve waited and waited for my lost husband to find himself back. I’m done waiting now. I am going to bring Damien back. I am going to make him remember us, Rian and me. I’ll do whatever it takes; I’ll brave any odds that are thrown my way. I will make him remember. My boy�
�s father is going to come back to us.

  Damien

  “Thank you for meeting me, Damien,” Celia says.

  I dip my head in acknowledgement and order tea for her while she chatters on about mundane things. Celia’s been hounding me for days now to take her out. After that fiasco in the hospital, she’s called and apologized numerous times and so, I finally gave in and agreed to meet up with her.

  I sip my coffee as she drones on about our common acquaintances and what they’ve been up to in the last five years. I let her talk, leaning back in my chair. I bob my head here and there when needed and resist the urge to check emails on my phone. After a few minutes of listening to her talk about people I’m least interested in, I cut in with a pertinent question of my own.

  “Why didn’t you and David get married? Weren’t you engaged for more than five years?”

  A strange emotion crosses her face but it’s gone before I can blink.

  “David wasn’t ready and I guess neither was I.” She fiddles with her cup before raising her eyes to meet mine.

  “What does that even mean?” I ask because her answer makes zero sense to me.

  She waves a hand out in dismissal. “Please Damien, I’d rather not talk about it. He was…difficult to be with. But he’s gone now and I have a whole future ahead of me to look forward to.”

  Her acceptance of the situation is easy and she sounds like she’s relieved that he’s gone. Not that I blame her for her reaction because something twisted and irreparable was rooted deep inside my brother’s psyche and if my suspicions are correct then she’d have had a difficult time with him. I’m certain that David was probably too busy whoring around on the side to actually commit to her. The selfish, disgusting, bastard! I’m happy for her sake that she’s rid of him.

  Celia is as elegant and poised as I have known her to be. I remember her as an opportunist and that has not changed. Money, title and status still top her priority list and hence she’s trying to reel me in. She’s been trained since birth to seek a title and what bigger title than that of a Duchess. And, of course, I’m the obvious and better choice now. Besides, my mother has told me more than once that Celia will make an excellent bride as she’s already trained to be a Duchess. That thought is bloody damn revolting and turns my blood cold.

  Fuck no, no, no!

  With her lips painted a deep red, her blonde hair styled in an upswept knot, that tight burgundy dress that molds her generous curves and showcases her deep cleavage, I recognize the signs of a woman trying to attract me. On any other man, it may have even worked. Celia has fantastic breasts and she knows it. Unfortunately for her, I’m not interested in anything she has to offer me. Even though she is gorgeous and I was attracted to her once, now I’m absolutely uninterested.

  I sigh! For all I know the accident may have caused me impotency because there seems to be no woman who attracts me. It is quite frustrating.

  Celia takes a sip of her tea, her eyes continuously assessing me. “I haven’t seen you around the social circuit. Rumor has it that the Devil Duke has become a recluse.”

  My chest tightens immediately, but I force myself to relax and not react to the ridiculous title and the careless comment. I raise the coffee mug to my lips instead.

  She tilts her head, observing me. “You’ve changed, you know. You’re colder than before, quieter and more aloof. You used to be a lot more fun.”

  “I guess a life-threatening accident changes your own perception of life,” I grit the words out through my teeth.

  Of course I was wild earlier. I worked hard and I partied harder. I was the life of every party and had a reputation of living a fast life. Everything came fast to me, whether it was money or women. And that is how Celia and most others remember me. They expect me to behave the same way and do the same things I did. But I have changed, simmered down and I quite like this new version of me. In my mind, it is like one minute I was this wild, carefree, devil of a person and now I am different.

  Celia twirls a strand of her hair that has fallen on her face. “You’ve been gone five years, Damien. Why did you leave? And Scotland? You were so close and yet you never visited? I tried calling, but your number was dead.”

  Again, I do not know what to reply to her because I don’t know the answer myself. But I make an attempt. “I don’t know what to say Celia. When I woke up in the hospital, I had no memory of leaving London for five years. Gabe told me I had chosen to disappear to Edinburgh and I have lived there since. Although I did visit my office and apartment in Scotland, nothing comes to mind.”

  Why Scotland? Why did I take that drastic step to disappear? I don’t know and neither does Gabe. The only plausible reason is that perhaps I wanted to leave my horribly dysfunctional family behind. But then, why disappear on everyone?

  I rub a finger down my temple. “Apparently, Gabe is the only one I kept in touch with. You know, each time I pressurize my brain to give me answers I get a whole lot of nothing in return other than a huge headache. I guess it will come to me with time.”

  “Why were you only in touch with Gabe? Why not Jonathan? Weren’t you three closer than brothers?”

  Jonathan! I sigh, thinking about him. Jonathan Wright, the Earl of Sommerfield, is one of my closest friends. Gabe, he and I are, in fact, best friends. While my brain remembers the situation as exactly that, in reality, it is far from the same and a lot has changed between us in the last five years.

  Celia nudges me when I’m silent for long. I reply honestly to her. “Gabe told me I refused to tell Jonathan when I disappeared five years ago. For some reason known only to me, I didn’t want him to know and he’s not forgiven either Gabe or me for that.”

  She puts her cup down. “I met him the other day. He mentioned that you refuse the invites he’s been sending your way. You refuse to party, refuse to indulge in any extreme sports.”

  Thinking of Jonathan makes me smile. Our mutual love for death defying sports is what got us together in the first place. That and the fact that Jonathan liked to party like crazy. Gabe was always a reluctant participant in our trio. Although he came with us, he refused to attempt anything extreme. He has an obsessive fear of heights, which is why he just watched from the sidelines as Jonathan and I tried repeatedly to cheat death. Gabe, him and I were inseparable at one time.

  Our relationship, sadly, is quite different from what I remember. Jonathan has been cold the few times I met him and each time I refuse his invites, he becomes more distant.

  Celia nudges me again. “Damien, why are you ignoring Jonathan’s invites?”

  I huff out a breath. “My love for extreme sports has died down and I definitely do not wish to risk my life again. That fire inside me has been extinguished, forever maybe. In my mind, it was only yesterday I was this daredevil party animal and suddenly I’m not that person. I can’t explain it. This is how it is now, Celia.”

  “Apologies for being insensitive and asking so many probing questions.”

  I shrug. It’s not surprising that she’s curious; most people are. Thanks to the intense media scrutiny into my life, everyone knows exactly what I have gone through and everyone has an opinion or wants to know more. I thank my stars that no one other than Gabe knows about my voice message to him. He’s the only one I trust at this point and if it ever came out that I suspect a conspiracy behind the accidents, then it would be all over the news. As it is, I’ve had little time to delve more into this issue. I’m already up to my ears in handling my father’s will, the jewelry business, our design firm and the bloody vast Kittridge estates. But someday, soon, I’ll have to remove time to get to the bottom of this issue.

  Celia sniffs and I tune back to hear what she’s saying. “Damien, did you know my parents have been ensconced in the country for several years now? My Dad refuses to visit London any more after his surgery.”

  “How is he?” I ask her. I honestly have no clue what’s wrong with her father or what surgery he underwent.

  “He’s
better on most days. But living with one kidney is not easy.”

  I look away from her. It’s not like I remember any of what she is talking about, so I have nothing to offer.

  “I simply hate living alone in that big house all by myself. Besides, your mother too is so lonely. The poor woman has suffered such a great loss. You know, I spend most of my day at Kittridge House with her. It feels so good to not be alone.”

  She licks her lips and gives me a coy look. Celia always knew how to steer a conversation exactly down the road she wanted. And I wait for her to come to the crux of this particular exchange.

  “Your mother insists I move in with her at Kittridge House. In fact, she mentioned that perhaps you’d also consider living there now that it’s…yours.”

  And this was exactly why she started this talk of her ailing father and her living alone. My mother and Celia think that moving her into our family residence will be the first step towards moving her there permanently. I could laugh at their feeble attempt to try and manipulate me. Celia can stay as long as she fucking wants with my mother. I sure as hell am not going to be living there in the near future.

  “Do as you wish, Celia. I couldn’t care any which way. I don’t intend to move in at Kittridge House…ever if it was up to me,” I tell her.

  Her eyes flash before she gives me a tight-lipped smile and changes the subject. “I hope you’re at least attending the charity gala that your mother is hosting tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  The last thing I’d like to do is attend a charity gala hosted to honor my father and brother’s contribution towards the underprivileged. It’s such a joke. My father and brother were the least generous people I knew of. But I’m a Duke now and appearances have to be maintained, and hence I have to attend that damn gala.

  I signal for the bill putting an end to my meeting with Celia.

  As I stand, I flick my head to my neighboring table where my bodyguard Mike is seated. He stands up immediately and steps in front of me. He’s been my shadow ever since I left the hospital. After hearing my own voice tell Gabe that my father and brother were murdered, I allowed Gabe to hire Mike. He’s a man of few words but is extremely capable, ex-MI6, ex-military, several badges of honor, multiple accolades, and so on.