17. OS 19. His Elusive Lover (Part 17)

Part 17

Shyam was angrier than he had ever been in his life before. He could make holes in a brick wall with his fist; he could burn down the world with his glare.

Arnav hadn’t credited money in Anjali’s account yet. His creditors were threatening him. How dare they demand their money from Shyam Manohar Jha! And as if these were not enough, Anjali was nagging him about staying away from Khushi and Arnav. The way things were playing out, his fantasies about Khushi had little chances of becoming a reality.

No.

Failure was not an option for Shyam Manohar Jha.

He smirked.

His opponents were puny humans who thought they could pit their will against him and win.

He cackled.

When he could get his hilarity under control, he hissed, “First Arnav. Then his money. Then Khushi.”

                                                               ***

Arnav sat working in the garden. Wind ruffled the leaves of trees, played with the surface of the pool and sent the fragrance of flowers wafting.

Khushi stood at the glass door leading from his room to the garden and looked at his weary face.

“Arnavji, tea?” she asked.

He looked up. “Yes,” he mumbled.

Khushi went to her room to make it.

Arnav rubbed his forehead.

Shyam had left the house in the morning citing urgent work. So Khushi was safe till he returned. The PI was digging deep and he was sure they would have solid proof against Shyam. And then this game could end.

Khushi walked across the bedroom with the mug of tea and made to step out into the garden.

Arnav leaned forward to get up so that he could take the tray from her.

A bullet whizzed past Arnav’s shoulder and shattered the earthen urn holding pink azalea.

There was a moment of perfect silence.

The tray fell to the ground. The mug cracked and the tea wet the cobblestone.

“Arnavji...” Khushi screamed and ran towards him. He caught her hand and quickly pulled her into the security of his bedroom.

“Arnavji,” she whimpered.

His arms opened.

She fell into his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He held her as she sobbed her fear out, her slender arms trying to encompass all of him, gather him into her embrace, protect him. Her hands ran all over his back, checking he was fine, reassuring herself that he was unharmed.

“I am fine,” he said softly.

“Someone...someone...” she couldn’t continue.

“Tried to kill me,” he completed.

“Yeh...yeh sab kya ho raha he?” she asked, distraught, confused. “Someone is trying to kill you over the Paris business deal? Sach mein? For money?”

Her arms tightened around him.

“For money, yes. For business deal, no,” he said firmly.

She looked at him, her eyes wet, her body snuggled close to his, never wanting to be apart from him.

“Shyam,” Arnav said quietly.

Sheer shock loosened her arms. She stood next to him, weak, shaking, her gaze filled with disbelief.

Arnav caught her by an elbow and helped her sit down on his recliner.

She bit her dry lip.

“Sshhh,” he comforted her, his fingers rubbing her elbow for a second before letting go.

He moved away to sit on his bed.

“Arnavji...your own jijaji....” Tears fell fast and furious, her mind unable to comprehend the extent of betrayal.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Shyam met my sister at a temple three years back. In fact, she stumbled and he caught hold of her arm and saved her from falling. It was apparently love at first sight. When di spoke of marriage, I suggested she wait and know him more, but she was adamant. She insisted on a quick marriage. I gave in.”

Arnav lowered his head.

Khushi sat still, listening to the normally reticent man talk, pour his heart out. Tears wet her cheeks.

“We should have sent her to stay in his house, but we were so protective of her and worried for her that when Shyam suggested that she stay here, we agreed. We gave her jewels, money, houses. I pay a monthly allowance into her account. I pay all their bills. I even pay for the petrol he fills in the car I bought for di.”

He sighed.

“Shyam used to stay away frequently using his work as an excuse. I felt something was fishy and employed a private investigator to look into his activities.” He looked at his locker. “I have the photos of him with various women. They are gross.”

Khushi gasped.

Arnav nodded. “Yes, he is a scoundrel through and through. He tricked di into marriage, making her believe he loved her. In reality, he loves only money. My money, to be exact. He imagined that I would remain a bachelor all my life and that di would inherit my wealth when I am gone. I didn’t pay di’s monthly allowance this time and refused to buy him a house in Delhi. I also gave him the impression that I may marry. This bullet was meant to kill me so that he could get his hands on everything before I married,” he said, leaving out Khushi’s role in this mess.

“Arnavji, the police,” Khushi suggested, holding her trembling hands together on her lap. “Your life is at stake.”

Arnav’s lips twisted. “Di believes her husband can do no wrong. I showed her a few of the photos and she refused to believe me. If I call the police on him without proof, he will turn things around and brainwash her against us.”

Khushi gulped. “What can we do now?” she asked, scared.

“I will increase our security cover,” Arnav replied. “Khushi, take a nap. We will have to go down for dinner in a few hours and sit across from Shyam.”

“Ji,” she whispered, slowly getting up from the recliner and walking to her room. She stopped at the connecting door and turned to look at him. “Woh...may I leave the door open?” she asked, scared to shut the door between them.

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze intent and then nodded.

                                                                  ***

Shyam was in a royal funk. Anger lurked beneath the surface. The killer he had hired had missed Arnav and now he was demanding money for a job not done! He was worse off than yesterday. Things weren’t going his way and when things didn’t go Shyam Manohar Jha’s way, he saw red.

“Shyamji...” Anjali cooed. “How do I look in this saree?” she asked, preening.

He grit his teeth and clenched his fists. He wanted to choke her with her saree, tighten the noose around her neck till her bleating ended. The useless lame sister of a billionaire who wasn’t even good for money!

“Kya hua, Shyamji?” she asked, limping closer to him.

He stood up so fast that the chair fell back. “Work...” he muttered, leaving the room.

Anjali pouted. “Yeh Shyamji bhi na!” she said aloud. “He never has time for me.”