Chapter 3

There it was, the most awaited email. In front of it sat Tara unsure how to feel about it.

She had managed to get an interview after months of hardwork but not only did her husband had made it clear that she wouldn't work but the interview had been arranged on her wedding day.

She scoffed at the irony, at the cruel fate of life that probably laughed viciously on Tara.

I shouldn't have hoped

It had been 3 days since she had met the nameless man. Her bags had been packed by her dutiful maids, her father busy in the wedding preparations due in two days.

All she was told to do was sit in her room and look pretty as maids took care of her. She was convinced no matter what beauticians tried to do, they'd never even come closer to make her stand-able next to him. He was out of this world. His curly stiff hair, sharp gaze and chiseled tall physique was made for a women entirely different than her. Even if she was to convince him to let her work, seduction was out of the question.

Not only was she completely devoid of the experience but he must had seen far better than to be falling for her.

She closed the laptop with a sigh.

There is no way

Although both interview and job was online, she knew the answer would be anything but yes.

Is there really no way?

She took a deep breathe and thought it through.

To be able to convince him, she had to meet him, they had to talk, how? 

That... she did not know.

Her head throbbed in pain, she refused to accept her fate - the bitter truth that this is what her life was going to be, devoid of joy and goal. She rested her head on the table with thud, closing her eyes, unable to control the turmoil of her flooding emotions.

When the pulse became too much, she clutched her hair in frustration, pulling them to relieve the pain. Her orbs brimmed with tears, worried for her foreseeable future. 

The more she thought, severely it hurt. 

Amid her inner battle with grief, hatred, tears and exasperation, she heard the melodic tune of her favourite composition, it played like a salve on her burning uproar, silencing the clamour within, for a second. 

It took her seconds to realise that her phone was ringing with Beethoven's mellifluous Fur Elise. It was unusual, no one had her number except for her father and she was sure her father wouldn't ever call at this hour. Who could be calli-

It's him

It dawned a little too fast, a little more intensely.

Her mouth went dry.

She knew the caller even before she reached for her cell. Her heart beat escalated wildly before she picked it up, letting it touch her ear. The hair near her ear stood in anticipation, expecting his voice to echo through her senses any moment now, but all she heard was silence.

She strained her ears to pick up any speck of noise and then she heard it...his sharp inhale. 

He couldn't believe he had made decisions at this rate. Sure he had to nail the deal with Indians at any cost, but never had he thought the old man would ask for a hand in his daughter's marriage for signing the contract. 

He had agreed in less than a minute, knowing how with Indian or not, his marriage was anyways going to be part of the deal. He was too presumptuous to waste the privilege of marriage for love, especially if he could use it for gains in important matters. 

Meeting was only supposed to be a trivial formality, unimportant and useless. He had already formed assumptions. Born rich, no mother, single daughter, zero friends, ofcourse she had to be a cherished spoilt princess in the typical loaded palace.

Much to his surprise, she had come out as anything but that. The sight of her cherubic features and shy demeanor had caught him off guard as much as it had intrigued his insides. 

She seemed to be an odd fit to be anywhere in his life and yet she had captured his eye. After not being able to process what witchcraft she had been performing on him, he had called, unaware of his own intentions.

She didn't say anything, growing skeptical of the strange phone call, waiting patiently.

As the time passed she found herself lying down on the bed on her stomach.  Her phone still clutched to her ear while he all but breathed.

What is the meaning of this?

Before she could assume the call was a mistake and cut it off, she heard the two unmistakable words, hitching her breathe, 

 "I'm coming" 

Her will to inquire frantically was met with a frightening beep, he had hanged up. 

She was flabbergasted, baffled, everything and anything that meant she was panicking. First he breathed through the phone now, out of nowhere he is coming. Just when she started to get worried it struck her...

He's meeting me, I can talk to him now

This was probably the last opportunity to confront him again, to give it a shot. For whatever reason he was paying a visit, she decided to turn it into her favor. 

Her panic settled slowly, calming down to let her see the positive side of dreadful forthcomings. She strolled back and forth her room, going over the scenarios, practicing how she'd talk, what she'd say. Her ragged breathe morphed into a strange excitement of hope.

Little did she know the cost of her wishes would be too much, that at stakes was a price she could never fully pay, that her little moment of joy was all but little.

Heroically oblivious to her destiny, she did what lamb never did for the lion, 

She waited. 

After 15 minutes of going through the email again she smiled with a newly found hope to linger on.

If he gets convinced, this could work

She stood up from her table, walking to the window to gaze through moonlight, sighing at the sight of gibbous, bright moon.

As she rested her head on the frame of window, her thoughts traveled to imagining her life in Italy.

Would it make any difference? 

The question never had any positive answer. After seeing the man, she knew it would be worse. The only mystery was how worse, how much worse.

A screeching of wheels caught her attention when a shining sports car entered their premise. She didn't had to guess who it was. He got out of the car, entering the mansion like man on a mission. And just like that she lost her breathe again. Why did he have this effect on her?

Should I lock the door? I don't want to see him

Why was he coming anyways?

The destructive thoughts crowded her mind, forcing adrenalin in her veins, telling her to either run out the door or jump off the window. 

When her thoughts began to roll downhill she forced herself to calm down, focusing on how she would convince him. 

If you want a career, you have to do this.

She repeated the mantra, taking deep breaths, pulling herself together.

She noticed that there wasn't a knock before he pushed the door open, letting it close behind him, entering as if he owned the damn thing. She stood by her window staring at him wide eyed as he blessed the air with his distinct cologne, letting the sip of masculinity dip in her feminine room, his white shirt sharply contrasting his dark suit. 

The air thickened as he inhaled his share of oxygen. Ever so slowly as he watched her, with a soft click he locked the door, laying his intentions down once and for all. 

She realised the trap when she was already caught, in her own house, in her own room. 

How could I be so stupid

She had kept her room's lights off, knowing the moonlight was enough to lit every part of her room. He admired the darkness, moreover he was about to exploit it.

Shadows engulfed him in a devilish embrace, his face nothing less than a mesmerizing angel reeking deletarious danger. 

It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of situation descended like a boltening thunder on a sunny day. Even then she couldn't but shake in fear. He had skillfully blocked the door, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her even more, tears gathered in her orbs with horrific anticipation. 

With his each deliberate step nearer, she gripped the frame of her window tighter, afraid of losing her balance.

It took him three steps to be inches apart from her. He watched her shaken face with incomprehensible expression, taking his suit jacket off, slowly to extend the joy of seeing her rabbit eyes full of regret and fear.

She felt foolish to think that came to talk when in all he wished was to do.

She moved her eyes away, unable to meet his diabolical green gaze. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her teary glance to his.

His eyes slipped from the grip of her eyes to her lips in a second.

She grew self conscious all over again. He watched his possession with subtle interest, taking his time in enjoying the quiver of her full lips. 

In the moment of bewilderment and growing self awareness her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet, the simple act bursting his thinning control as his mouth descended on her lips with hunger.

He took her gently, stroking her lips tenderly, trying different angles, faltering her any attempt to get away by tightening his hold on her neck. Giving her a moment in between to breathe, enjoying her feeble struggles bit by bit.

And just when he thought it wasn't enough, he picked her up effortlessly, ignoring her shocked gasp before throwing her on bed.