Beneath The Lies Read online

  “Bloody hell,” I whisper after a few seconds have passed and my mind has finally accepted what I have just learnt.

  Leading us forward again, Gabe continues, “The Kittridge family has been the pioneer in real estate land deals since the turn of the century and hence, they now have vast holdings of commercial and residential properties in their portfolio—many of them in England’s premier locations. And now Damien owns it all.”

  I gulp in a breath, my mind sifting through all I just learnt. My Internet research showed that Damien’s family owns Annette & Co. They are diamond merchants and own some of the most exclusive jewelry stores across the world. Their jewelry is commissioned by royalty and worn by Hollywood stars at red carpet events. It was started by his great great grandfather and named after the man’s wife. Today, if Harry Winston is the number one jeweler in the world, then Annette & Co. is a close second. But I never imagined more of this staggering amount of wealth.

  Gabe laughs at my stunned expression. “Impressed much?” he asks me.

  I make a face at him.

  “So, you want to be the next Duchess of Kittridge faster now?” He quirks his eyebrows at me.

  “I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

  He barks out a loud laugh. I chuckle alongside him and finally lose some of the tension that has me wound tight. I twist my head to the side and my eyes lock with the cool grey, green gaze of Damien.

  Damien

  “Darling,” Celia gushes. “You aren’t paying me the slightest attention tonight.”

  She’s pretending as if the previous night didn’t happen. As if she didn’t try to trick me into sleeping with her. The woman’s a shark and she’s become way worse than I remember of her. Her hand snakes up my chest again and this time I hold it, squeezing it tightly as I remove it from my person.

  Celia winces and I clasp her hand tighter. “Don’t pretend you have a right over me,” I whisper. “If you want to remain by my side tonight for the sake of propriety then behave yourself; else, I’ll happily remove you from here. Go on, try me if you dare.”

  I release her hand, relishing the frozen look on her face. Celia remains rooted to her spot, staring at me. My lips flatten as the next set of guests reach me. I’m tired already of this long-drawn affair of meeting and greeting so many people. I have to make an effort to wipe out the scowl that keeps threatening to paint itself on my face. I can’t wait to return home and discard the bow tie knotted around my neck.

  I sigh, thinking how much I’ve changed. In the past, I approached these society events as a hunting ground to attract more business. I was always at home amongst the high and mighty of England. Being the son of a Duke afforded me the respect that the title deserved, but being the primary architect and designer for many of the people attending tonight gave me a tremendous amount of power among this lot. Yes, I have designed their homes and estates and know some of their dirtiest secrets like who has a private pleasure dungeon in his home or which of them has a secret chamber behind the mirrors in their bedroom. It’s insane the kind of requests that these rich and privileged people make for their homes. But all their debauchery aside, the combined wealth of most people here would be enough to solve the debt of perhaps three third world nations.

  And now I stand among them as perhaps the most powerful person in the room. Yet, every now and then I have to quietly inhale a large gulp of air to help me breathe better. I have to resist the urge to fidget with my bow tie. I have to force myself to stay in place and not walk away from it all.

  All that I want is to go home and concentrate on finding the person who is after me. I would have preferred that Mike channelize all his efforts in searching for the perpetrator responsible for the accidents and the notes. Instead, he is here wasting time on ensuring my security and those of the people around me. Bloody fucking hell!

  Celia touches my arm bringing me back to the present as the princes and their wives step forward. Plastering a smile on my face, I ease into conversation with them until they step aside and someone else takes their place.

  It’s all getting tedious. So many people, so many familiar faces, but only few can be called as trusted friends. I hear Gabriel’s loud laughter a second before I spot him. I pivot towards him and my eyes zero in on the woman by his side, Aaliya Singh.

  They’re laughing over something. She turns and her dark orbs lock with mine. Once again, her eyes are rimmed with black smoky kohl and I like it, a lot. My mouth curves into a lazy smile, as I take in every inch of Aaliya. Dinner last night with her was so pleasant and I hate that I had to cut it off to go to Celia.

  Aaliya looks luminous in a stunning soft pink gown. The color looks so fantastic with her complexion that I can’t help but stare at her. She takes her own time assessing me and when her eyes meet mine again, they are sparkling with mischief. Fuck! I do like her sass.

  They reach me a moment later. We continue to stare at one another as Gabriel exchanges pleasantries with my mother and Celia.

  Taking Aaliya’s elbow, Gabriel draws her forward.

  “I’d like you all to meet a dear friend of mine, Aaliya Singh,” he says before turning to her. “Aaliya, this is Lady Emma Talbot, Her Grace, the Duchess of Kittridge and Lady Celia Parker. You know Damien already.”

  Aaliya smiles before addressing my mother. “You have a lovely home, Your Grace.”

  My mother gives her a stiff nod in reply and converses with the person next in the queue.

  Celia looks from Aaliya to me and back to her.

  “How do you know Lord Kittridge?” Celia asks her in a haughty tone.

  It’s quite annoying that Celia is trying to make a point of my title. Either she’s trying to impress Aaliya or intimidate her. If I were to guess, neither would work on the other girl.

  And sure enough, Aaliya doesn’t even cast a glance at Celia. Instead her gaze remains fixed on me.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Damien,” Aaliya says. “I do hope we can spend some time conversing later.”

  “Of course,” I tell her, “You still have to tell me all the things Gabe has told you about me.”

  “Well, talk to me later and find out. Beware though, his version may be colored by my own opinion,” Aaliya replies with a naughty smile.

  My lips arch and I tilt my head to the side to observe her better. “I look forward to that.”

  Celia interrupts our banter. “You’re Indian?” she sneers.

  Aaliya raises her chin. Her eyes narrow, resting on Celia. “Yes, I am.”

  “Aaliya is an interior designer. She owns one of the top design firms in Asia. She works out of Mumbai mostly.” Gabriel interjects from beside her.

  Celia arches her eyebrow. “A successful businesswoman from India? That’s quite a surprise. I was under the impression that most Indian women are raised to stay at home and have kids, isn’t it?”

  Aaliya’s expression hardens instantly and her eyes blaze. I step in to salvage the situation. “What Celia meant is…” I start to say but Aaliya holds her hand up to stop me.

  She addresses Celia directly. “You live in quite an outdated century it seems, although here I thought a titled, rich, educated woman like you would know all about the advancements Indian women have made in technology, business, medicine and whatnot, all while balancing their home lives. Guess I was mistaken in that assumption. Either that or you are just a xenophobe.”

  Celia blinks and my lips quirk as I try hard not to laugh.

  Seeing Celia’s obvious confusion, Aaliya says, “I guess I ought to explain what that means since you so clearly didn’t understand me. A xenophobe is someone who dislikes or is prejudiced against people from other countries—much like a racist. I hope I’ve clarified your question now Lady Celia.”

  Celia’s mouth drops open and she looks as if she’s trying to say something vitriolic but nothing comes out. She’s always been the leader of her pack of females and to see her at a loss for words is rather shocking.

  Gabe and I e
xchange an awkward look while the two women continue to stare daggers at one another. Gabe clears his throat and excuses them.

  “Upon my word,” Celia grumbles. “That woman had the gall to insult me in such a manner.”

  “Well, most people are proud of where they come from and do not tolerate insults. Perhaps you ought to keep that in mind before you pass derogatory remarks on someone’s background,” I tell her, my eyes still following the delightful Miss Singh.

  There is no time for any more conversation as dinner is announced. Aaliya and Gabriel take their seats at their own allotted table and I head to mine, my mind still reeling from Aaliya’s poise and self-confidence.

  Aaliya

  We are seated at a table of ten, surrounded by common acquaintances of Gabriel. He introduces me to all the men and women at the table. Thankfully none of them are the least bit scornful about my heritage like Celia Parker was. I wanted to slap her face when she tried to demean me. Hateful, disgusting, racist woman! These people though are quite warm and pleasant and the conversation flows between us all as the various courses are served.

  The place on my right remains vacant until the third course when a tall, striking man approaches our table. He looks to be in his early thirties and has dark brown hair. He’s dressed to the nines in a dashing tuxedo and has an air of mischief surrounding him. The conversation halts and everyone turns to look at him.

  “Apologies for being late,” he announces in a tone that doesn’t sound apologetic to me at all. “I hope I haven’t missed much.”

  He greets everyone at our table and a few of them make teasing remarks to his usual and well-known tardiness. He takes the seat next to mine, turning to me immediately.

  “Hello there, beautiful! I’m Jonathan Wright, Earl of Sommerfield.” He extends his hand out to me, his blue eyes sparkling.

  I take it and smile. “Aaliya Singh.”

  “Indian?” he asks, summoning a waiter to serve him champagne.

  I nod.

  “Nice, I’d like to visit your country one day. I believe it’s lovely.”

  “Thank you, it is.”

  “Beautiful women too,” he says leaning closer to me.

  “You won’t find any argument from me on that,” I reply back, warming to him.

  Gabe speaks forward from my other side, “Making a dramatic entry as usual, Jonathan?”

  “Of course! You know me,” he says with a cheerful raise of his brows.

  Gabriel points to me. “You met my friend Aaliya? She’s visiting from India.”

  “I just did. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Jonathan gives me a charming smile. “By the way, I’m the more interesting one,” he says with an absolutely serious expression, making me laugh aloud.

  Gabriel sighs, shaking his head. “Ignore him, Aaliya. I usually do.”

  Jonathan takes a sip of his champagne. “Damien and you ignoring me is nothing new, isn’t it?”

  His tone is dismissive but his smile falters for a second and a sad expression crosses his face. But almost immediately his face clears, his lips purse and he stares at Gabe. I make a mental note to ask Gabe about this at a later time.

  Gabe clears his throat. “Er…Jonathan, you know it’s not like that.”

  “I say it as it is, Gabriel.” Jonathan continues to stare at him and they have some sort of nonverbal conversation, which I can’t understand.

  Finally, Gabe breaks the agonizingly awkward moment. “Jonathan has recently hired our firm to design the new wing of his Scottish estate. But for some reason, he has rejected all the designs we’ve shown him. He keeps saying he wants something more, something exceptional and out of the ordinary.”

  Jonathan shakes his head. “Not the time for business, Gabriel. Especially when we have a beautiful lady seated between us.” He winks at me over his wine glass, the naughty grin back on his face.

  “I’m an interior designer,” I inform him, “so by all means, please carry on the conversation, My Lord.” Gabe has been subtly instructing me on the delicacies of addressing British peers and I hope I’m addressing this Earl correctly.

  “Please call me Jonathan,” he says.

  “OK, Jonathan. What’s missing from these designs?”

  He gives a half shrug. “They’re all quite blah…the same chandeliers, the same lighting, the same flooring, the typical colors. Rather boring, the lot of it…I want Damien to personally design this new wing of my estate. Either that or I will go to someone else.”

  Gabriel mumbles a swear word from my side. And once again, I’m caught in a staring contest between the two men. I sip my champagne while waiting for them to finish wordlessly communicating whatever the hell they’re trying to tell each other.

  Jonathan finally turns to me and begins a conversation on a recent painting he bought of a now deceased Indian artist. The topic is engaging and we spend a long time engrossed in discussion. He asks me several questions on my work and asks about the architectural concepts that are being currently employed in Asia. He queries me on the houses I’ve designed, about Indian antiques and artifacts and in the end exchanges numbers with me with a promise to call soon and continue this discussion. Talking to him leaves me entertained and engaged.

  When the person opposite us asks Jonathan a question, I subtly touch Gabriel’s arm, drawing his attention.

  “What was Jonathan’s comment earlier about you and Damien ignoring him?” I ask him in a soft whisper.

  Gabe puts his glass down before speaking to me in a low tone. “Damien, Jonathan and I have been friends for a long time. He was Damien’s willing partner in every ridiculously dangerous activity they undertook. I’ve watched on the side as the two of them dived in shark-infested waters, base-jumped from the Nordic Fjords and so many other unbelievable things. There has always been a rivalry between them, with Jonathan always wanting to better Damien. We ignored it always and continued together, partying and carousing because we were all close friends. But then Damien left everything and moved to India. He never told Jonathan anything. I was the only one who knew.”

  Gabe sneaks a quick peek at Jonathan before continuing, “Jonathan was lost when Damien left. He even tried looking for him. But when he couldn’t find him, he kind of guessed that Damien had disappeared and that I knew where he was—obviously, because I knew where he was and my pretense of a worried friend was faltered. He took that as a betrayal and my friendship with him has never been the same. And now…”

  “And now Damien’s back,” I complete his unfinished sentence.

  “Yes, Damien’s back and has changed. He’s no longer interested in any of the activities that excited him earlier. And to my knowledge, he’s refused every invite Jonathan has extended to him, be it a party or a sporting activity. So, you can see why Jonathan is sore about this entire thing.”

  “He lost a friend, Gabe, for five years and now that his friend is back, he’s behaving different. Obviously, Jonathan is hurt and confused.”

  Gabriel starts to say something, but is interrupted by the woman on his right. He responds to her and is soon engaged in conversation with her.

  My eyes rest on Damien as I process this new information. I was so naively in love with Damien that I never quite probed into his life before he met me. He told me Gabriel was his closest friend and that no one else in his past mattered, and I accepted that. I accepted every lie he fed me. A loose strand of hair falls on my face and I shove it away with an exasperated sigh.

  Damien’s seated a few tables ahead of us, sandwiched between his mother and Celia Parker who, every now and then, whispers in his ear. My blood boils each time I see her move closer to him.

  I’m itching to remove her from Damien’s side. But since I can’t do that, I busy myself looking at one of the jewelry catalogs I find on the table. I realize that an auction is going to be held tonight and this catalog shows a detailed listing of all the jewelry pieces that are going to be available for the auction. All of them have been donated and seve
ral of them are vintage Annette & Co. pieces. The proceeds of every sale will go towards the charities favored by the Kittridge family.

  “There’s going to be a jewelry auction, right?” I ask Gabriel.

  “Yes!”

  “So, where is the jewelry displayed?”

  “They’re all wearing it.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.

  “You see that lady on our right in the green gown?” Gabriel points at a tall woman, who looks in her early fifties and then points at the catalog. “She’s wearing the necklace shown in this picture.”

  “Oh!” I finally understand now.

  He flips through more pages. “Most of these are family heirlooms passed down through generations. The owners are donating it for a better cause.”

  Gabriel turns to the last page, which shows a picture of a stunning necklace of heart shaped diamonds. “This necklace, for example, once belonged to Damien’s mother. It was passed down through generations of Duchesses. A year back, David lost it to the Count of Farleigh while gambling. His mother was furious, his father more so to lose such an important piece of their family history. But they were forced to honor David’s word.”

  Gabe points to an old lady wearing that necklace. “The Countess of Farleigh has decided to place that necklace on auction tonight. Damien is expected to outbid anyone who bids for it because this is his family heirloom. Everyone knows that his mother wants that necklace back at any cost. A lot of people want what the Duke of Kittridge wants so that bid will be outrageous indeed.”

  I don’t get a chance to comment as the auction begins. It staggers me to see how so many of these people are quick to spend hundreds of thousands of pounds, albeit in the name of charity. It’s unbelievable and so above every facet of my life.

  I’m a single child to working parents. We are an upper middle-class family and we’re well off in the sense that I have enjoyed a decently good life. My first encounter with real wealth, however, came after I married Damien. But I never let him over spend or over indulge me until Alpha Arc started flourishing. I still remember fighting with him when he bought first class tickets for our honeymoon to Bali. He found it endearing that I wanted to save money.