ARYLIE FF: My Everything and Beyond

Chapter 4 - "Sweet and sour, just like tamarind"

A/N - hello lovely readers! I have to start by apologizing for the long break! I was on a long weekend vacation which, while in itself was just what I needed, completely destroyed my plans to write and post. Sorry for the long wait.

Here's Chapter 4 - enjoy reading!!

Love,

AA

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Previously,

Aryan cleared his throat and reminded her, impatience evident in his voice, "The rental agreement."

Imlie was shaken out of her trance, wondering for the first time if she really was here illegally.

"The rental agreement is in my bag downstairs. C...can you give me a moment to dress up and I'll meet you downstairs? We can then decide who needs to stay and who will leave?"

A sneer marred Aryan's face.

"I love how you think you have any room for negotiation here. You have five minutes to come down and show me this agreement or I'm calling the police" he finished and strode past her, leaving the bedroom.

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Aryan paced around the living room. This is so not how he planned to spend this night. Being at the villa after all these years was hard enough. Especially after the day he'd had.

The last thing he needed tonight was to deal with a squatter who claimed to have rented their family villa legitimately. Either she had come up with a very creative lie to cover up her intrusion or this was all a massive confusion.

Whichever it was, this evening was turning out to be an adventure Aryan had not signed up for.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, pressing his palms into the sockets of his eyes, and walked towards the glass doors that opened to the patio. He pulled the sliding door ajar and let the cold mountain air rush over his face, closing his eyes.

He didn't know how long he stood like that, but after what seemed to be several minutes, he heard the tinkle of anklets coming down the stairs. The sound made the hair on the back of his neck stick straight up.

Swiftly recovering from the involuntary reaction, he turned around and dug his hands into his pockets again, his face deadpan.

He observed the squatter as she tentatively walked down the stairs, her palms twisted together.

She wore a plain light pink kurti and leggings, with a sheer dupatta wrapped around her torso and over her left shoulder, tied in a knot at her right hip. Her hair, still somewhat damp from his interruption of her hair drying routine, fell around her face and down her back. Aryan wondered if it were as soft to touch as it looked, his mind drifting to the lavender and coconut fragrance that had wafted from her hair and had made his breath hitch when he had held her close in the bathroom.