"Remember, you were the one who called this marriage a hoax, so you have no business poking your nose in my matters. I am holding up my side of the contract, I expect you to do the same", she says conscious of his hands on her waist as he presses he...
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The dark club tainted by the neon lights bustles with the richer class today. Men and women in sophisticated outfits move about flaunting the finery of their lifestyle at each others faces, yet keeping their identity hidden under the mercy of masks and veils. On the outside they are kings and queens, but within the confines of this room they are mere humans falling prey to their carnal desires and twisted fantasies. Sofa's litter with half naked bodies alive and thrumming with lust, craving to satiate the thirst for pleasure in their own wicked ways. Vulgar sounds wreck the hallway as Dhruv Rajawat and his accomplice moves closer to a doorway guarded by two armed men.
"Identity?", one of the two asks his assessing eyes already taking in their form while the other one runs a check on the card slapped so lethally on his chest.
"Adrien Silva, Ivor Castello", tonight they are just names with a hunger for power walking into the liar of a black market tycoon bidding his greatest jewel.
There's a nod of approval, before the door is opened. Dhruv lets the old man enter first, following him into the dark room, barely illuminated by glittering lamps. Masked men and women hold hushed conversations, a desperate attempt at friendliness before they go at each other's throats once the bidder announces his presence. It almost looks like a masquerade on the outside but that was exactly the theme they were opting for. There had only been two rules, come masked with a code name. Dhruv had scoffed first at the childishness of it all but his years in business had taught him how the rich valued secrecy. Once there identity was known to the world, their polished image and castle of lies would crumble before the rose tinted glasses of the public.
The old man accompanying him moves towards the wine stall and Dhruv has no choice but to follow. Lalit Agnihotri hadn't expressed any distaste for the vulgar activities going on around them and Dhruv had often marveled at the old man's lack of reaction to the eccentricities of the younger beings of the rich class. A man of his generation should have at least scrunched his nose in disgust at the naked bodies lining the hallway, but he had simply walked forward as if the whole sight was nothing new to him.
"A Rosita for me and a Moscow mule for my friend here", Lalit says to the bartender who rushes to prepare his order.
A woman walks up to the counter, a red dress hugging her frame, the slits on her thigh leaving very little to the imagination, "A Negroni for me", she says with a fleeting glance at him, a suggestive smile taking over her painted lips. He wouldn't mind falling prey to his desires but tonight he can't afford distractions so he turns his head, not bothering to acknowledge her presence. As if on taking cue the woman collects her drink and moves away, the sway of her hips casting the ghost of a pull on him. Shaking his head, he turns to his companion, "Lalit, what's with Mr Rai's obsession with the jewel", Blood boon, the jewel that was to be bid today ones belonged to the Indian royals before it was stolen by a French merchant. Through the twisted path of trade, it had ended up in the black market and eventually into the hands of the illicit artifacts dealer, Icarus, the same man who was going to bid it to the best buyer today.
