Desert Rose

Chapter 3

ARNAV Singh Raizada stood rooted to the spot seething with rage. How dare she speak to him like that? He would have to figure out what this woman really wanted. Woman? There was definitely something off about her.

She looked different than he had imagined – a little older. She didn't seem to be Akash's type. She wore glasses and had tied up her hair in a severe bun. She wore ordinary clothes and her makeup seemed a little loud.

But as his eyes had moved lower, there was contradiction to his earlier thought. Her clothes had stuck to her body making him aware of the fullness of her breasts, her tiny waist and flare of her hips tapering down to long slim legs.

When he had touched her, he had felt a stirring in his body-----a flash of an elusive memory of a long ago time. But it was gone in a second. He shook his head to clear it.

He would have to go find her, he thought to himself, but he would have to get a quick shower first. It wouldn't be too difficult to find out which hotel she was put up at.

Ten minutes later, as he walked out of the gym, he heard his sister Anjali calling out for Hariprakash. Her voice seemed a little urgent as she asked him to bring her the first aid box. Had something happened to Di? What was the first aid box for?

Then he saw her – again.She was lying on the sofa with his sister hovering over her. He went toward his sister with purposeful strides.

Khushi opened her eyes, wincing with pain as she looked around her. As she lay on the luxurious sofa, she was awestruck. Earlier, when she had seen the haveli from outside, she had the feeling that she was entering the movie Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. Now she was convinced. The décor of the large room was ethnic Rajasthani style. The furniture was dark coloured with intricately carved designs.The sofa cushions covered in orange silk were accompanied by bronze pillows. On one side there was an ornate brass swing and an artistically carved mirror on one of the walls. Bright orange-bronze coloured curtains adorned the arches that separated one area from another.

Exquisitely woven Kashmiri carpets adorned the floor. The parts that were uncarpeted were tiled in creamy marble, with chips of grey and white. The walls had carved wood panelling and were decorated with unique artefacts and paintings that looked original and expensive. Khushi was entranced by one in which there a breathtakingly beautiful dusky woman, decked up in silver jewellery, her almond shaped hazel eyes slightly downcast and looking demure as her maid stood by her side. The designer in Khushi couldn't help noticing the painstaking detail on the costume. It was a deep navy blue lehenga choli with mustard yellow and red thread work.

Some of windows had the typical coloured glass in them while others were plain. A huge chandelier made of glass and antique gold dominated the centre of the ceiling.

Ironically, the one thing Akash Raizada hadn't lied about was his wealth, Khushi thought sourly. She was in the lap of luxury here.

And thens he saw him --- the horrible man was standing a few feet away talking heatedly to the lady whose car had caused all this trouble. A man who appeared to be the driver stood next to her, his head bent as he seemed to be receiving a dressing down by his master – the Laad Governor.

Khushi remembered how she had just started her ride on her junk scooter, and then this car had come at her with full speed. She could have still managed to avoid it if the brakes had worked as they should have. She had manoeuvred the steering so that she could avoid hitting the car. The scooter hit the loose stones on the verge, and went out of control, skidding up the road. Khushi was thrown off, landing painfully on her side. She had gone still for a moment, feeling sick and dizzy with shock.