Wrecked Souls

Chapter 1- Aarav

I groan with frustration as I hang up the call with my father. I light a cigarette and lean back on my chair as I take a hit. Instantly feeling the stress leave my body by an inch, I close eyes my wondering why on hell am I the only heir of my father to handle the business after him.

I open my eyes and pace around my office, my footsteps echoing in the mostly vacant room with white marbled floor, book shelf with barely any book I haven't read and a black sofa, big enough that even I can sleep on it comfortably with my six feet two inch. A mini fridge is set beside it which scarcely contain anything other than beer and whiskey. Puffing the stick in my hand as I run a hand through my already messed hair I look around my office to break something and release some of the rage building inside of me. I tap my fingers on the ebony on chery desk upon which moments ago I had my feet rested.

I recall the conversation with my father as I dial his friend's number, who happens to my soon-to-be-businesspartner because that fucker couldn't handle his job well and is in desperate need of our alliance. If it wasn't for my dearest father, I would have happily ignored this shit but my father is probably the only family member I respect not just because of his fatherhood but because I seriously look up him.

My father, Yash Malhotra is one hell of an intelligent and sophisticated human. He knows when to strike and when to hold back. No wonder he has built such a huge empire with his bare hands but never once let his hands get dirty. I have followed his lead since the moment I graduated and helped him expand his business and become one of the richest billionaires in the country. He retired two years ago and the moment he left his office I have done every fucking thing to expand our business and reach the peak we are at today.

The phone rings as I wait impatiently for my damn to-be-partner to pick up. He picks up after a few ring and says, "Kunal Saxena."

"Aarav Malhotra." And that's fucking enough to alert him. I hear shuffles on the other side followed by some shush and more shuffling.

"Aarav, how you doing, son?"

I suppress my irritation as I crush the cigarette with my shoes I had been holding but hardly took hits of it. Why the fuck does he think he can call me that? I let it go deciding I would point it out if he happens again.

"How about we cut the slack and get to business? I'm pretty sure my father already gave you words, didn't he?" I say calmly.

"Yes, that he did and I think you're willing to oblige him and be my allie?" He questions and I scoff.

"Listen up old man, I don't know what you think of your business but I know, so let me tell you. It's shit and you're the one in need to help. So how about we talk about how I'm willing to strike a deal with you for the sake of your deadly crises?"

"Fine by me. I see, why your father warned me about your behaviour." He says bitterly yet calmly.

I try to contain myself as I tug at my hair harshly reminding myself it's for the sake of my dad or else Saxena would have been six feet under the ground by now.

Ignoring his attitude I come straight to the point, "Meet me tomorrow."

"You'll have to come to my house for that matter or else you'll be meeting my son if you decide on office."

I make a mental note to google how the fuck can we choke someone to death without actually moving finger.

I grit my teeth, containing myself with the same shit I had been thinking through this phonecall, "Your house. I would rather meet the original version of you than your 2.0."

I hear him chuckle, fucking chuckle before he says, "Fine. When?"

"11:00 am."

"Actually if you ca-"

I cut him off, "That wasn't a question."

"Okay, okay."

I hang up before another word is spoken. Shoving my phone in my three piece suit pant's pocket as I walk to my fridge and I gulp down a bottle of beer in one go.

Just as I throw the bottle in trash, a knock alerts my attention to my office's door. When the door creaks open before my response I clench my jaw with frustration. My assistant walks in a black skirt that stops just above her bruised knees, and I deliberately don't intend to let the thought cross my mind how she got those bruises. She wears a white shirt tugged inside her skirt at her waist and has first two buttons undone of it.

I fix my gaze to her as she tugs a strand of open hair behind her ear with a smile.

"What would you take to wait for my response before barging in on your own?"

I walk to my desk and lean against it as I cross my arms over my chest and lock my gaze with her, "Um, I'm sorry. Would remember the next time."

"Heard it before, to be specific it was just yesterday." I say with a poker face.

"Sorry sir." She looks down before

"Whatever Alya. What's the schedule?" I dismisses her apology as I take a seat on my chair while she trails off with the whole day's meetings and conference calls. She glances up a few times to assure I'm listening to which I nod a few times while going through my phone.
I search for Kunal Saxena on Google though I already happen to know enough, we should gather as much knowledge as possible, just to be safe of course.

A forty-seven year old business man just like my dad, who grew his empire rapidly in a short period of time in the market until the company faced depression which collapsed the company from its foundation and it has been miserable since his son took over.

His son Harsh Saxena, a twenty-six year lad, a year younger to me, whose drug smuggling and black marketing did nothing but tremble their terrible business and now remains only the left overs.

Kunal Saxena's wife died ten years ago, that's my personal knowledge because I happen to have been at the funeral. She left behind a daughter and a son who were barely fourteen and sixteen at that time. I remember his daughter sobbing hard for her dead mother as she fisted her father's shirt who didn't bother shed a tear on his wife's loss. I know he is a kind of man who knows the trick to conceal their emotions but even my father might tremble at the sight of my mother lifeless.

I turn of the screen as Alya finishes with her talk of the day. I give her a final nod before she heads out of my office. I take out a cigarette and light it with my zippo as I walk to glance outside through my floor to ceiling window. From my view, from the twentieth floor of my building, the world seems small and easy to crush. But I know better to see the reality from the depth than to assume from the afar.

People see me as nothing but a ruthless and a cold human who gives zero fucks about the world. But I know to hide better than to show the cruel creation how much I feel and pity for the poor who do everything in their ability to just survive a day in this fast world. I constantly donate to orphanages, do charity which people assume to be smart business and I let them. But little do they know, I know the value of money and hunger. My father wasn't always the rich and wealthy man. There used to be days when we starved and slept empty stomach.

I sigh closing my eyes as I take a hit of the stick and tilt my head to release the smoke to the ceiling.
Seconds later, my assistant reminds me of the meeting in five minutes and I walk out buttoning my suit jacket.

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