4. Mayukhi
FOUR
Mayukhi
I’ll take your daughter.
A feral growl rumbled in her chest as Mayukhi sat at her dressing table doing her makeup. She’d received a message from Ishaan, apparently, he did have her number , telling her to be ready by seven thirty for a formal, black-tie event. That’s it. No other explanation. The arrogance of that man was astounding. And she was looking forward to bringing it crashing to the ground.
She shimmied into her shapewear making sure it plumped her breasts up just right and smoothed out everything it should. She stared at her reflection critically. Was it enough? She wanted Ishaan Adajania to swallow his tongue when he saw her. She reached for the red sheath draped on her king size princess bed and stepped into it, drawing it over her hips and fastening it with the side zip. The dress left her shoulders bare, the curve of her cleavage rising out of the neckline, the fabric hugging her lean figure and amplifying assets while concealing flaws.
Mayukhi loosened the hair she’d bundled on top of her head and allowed it to flow down her shoulders, teasing and opening the curls out so it lay in beachy waves down her back. She picked up her bottle of Chanel Chance and spritzed herself liberally. A helper knocked on her bedroom door to inform her that Ishaan had arrived. Mayukhi took one last look at herself in the mirror and left the safety of her bedroom.
Ishaan Adajania had no idea whom he’d picked to tangle with. He might think he’d won their little skirmish, but Mayukhi was playing a long game. By the time this was done, she would grind him, his company, and his precious reputation into the dust.
He was waiting in the living room with her parents. Her father looked hostile and her mother’s botox wouldn’t let her express any emotion but Ishaan…he looked ridiculously comfortable and at ease. Resentment grew within her at the sight of how handsome he looked in his Brioni suit. She didn’t know much about what Ishaan had been up to in the intervening years between school and now, but he had certainly upped his fashion game. Or he had a stylist dressing him, she mused.
She stepped into the room and cleared her throat. For the briefest moment, she saw his face tighten at the sight of her, something indecipherable flashing in his eyes. Well, it wasn’t a tongue swallow, but it was something.
“Hello darling.” Ishaan stood as she entered the room. His amused smirk made her want to smack his smug face. “Ready to leave.”
Mayukhi didn’t bother to answer him. She looked past him to her parents and murmured, “I won’t be late.”
Her father nodded in acknowledgement and Mayukhi turned on her heel, walking towards the front door, not waiting for Ishaan to catch up.
He was hot on her heels, seconds later, one hand going to her lower back, the pressure of his large palm doing strange things to her nervous system. Revulsion, she told herself, that’s all it was.
“Easy there, Kraken. You could break your neck in those heels.”
Mayukhi gave him some disdainful side eye. “I could run a marathon in these heels without breaking a sweat, dipshit.”
They stepped out into the muggy Mumbai evening, Ishaan beeping his car open. Mayukhi stared at the Porsche 911 Carrera GTS before rolling her eyes and getting into the passenger seat. She was fastening her seatbelt when Ishaan rounded the bonnet and got in on the other side.
“You don’t like my car?” he asked, over the roar of its engine revving.
Mayukhi shrugged, looking out of the window as the crowded streets whizzed by.
“Seriously?” For the first time that night, he sounded a little miffed. “You have a problem with my Porsche?”
“You mean your my-dick-is-bigger-than-everybody-else’s car?”
Ishaan smiled. “It is,” he said simply, making her roll her eyes again.
They drove along in silence for a while before Mayukhi asked, “Where are we going?”
“Charity fundraiser.”
Mayukhi flipped through Mumbai’s social calendar in her head. There were three fundraisers this month which would make tonight’s the one for the redevelopment of the slums. She frowned, glancing over at Ishaan’s side profile. The dick had grown up to be ridiculously good looking. It was really annoying. But what was more annoying was that she couldn’t figure out his end game.
“Why do you care about the slums and the people living in it? Have the poor become fashionable or something?”
Ishaan’s jaw flexed, his hands tightening on the wheel of the car. “Fashionable was never on my radar.”
Mayukhi snorted. “Says the man in a Brioni. One of these days, Adajania, you’ll learn to walk the talk.”
He didn’t bother to reply as they pulled into the driveway of the five-star hotel hosting the fundraiser that night. He brought the car to a halt, getting out and tossing his keys to the valet. Mayukhi was out of the car before he could walk around to open the door for her.
She took a deep, bracing breath as she preceded him into the lobby of the hotel. They walked across it, her heels clicking as they made their way to the event space. Men in safari suits opened the large double doors allowing them to walk into the expensive looking and luxurious smelling place. Across the opulent, large hall she spotted her friends from school. The Crestwood crowd tended to cluster at every event and tonight was no exception.
“Showtime,” Ishaan murmured in her ear. “Remember our agreement, Kraken. You put one toe out of line, and I’ll bury your family six feet under.”
“One toe huh?” Mayukhi turned, tossing her hair and stepping closer to him, his body heat sending a shiver through her. “What happens if it’s a whole foot?” And with that last question, she ground her heel into his shoe, aiming for the part where his shoe wasn’t offering much protection. To his credit, Ishaan barely flinched before shaking her foot off.
“Why don’t you walk your talk and find out, Kraken?” The words were laced with enough venom to have her stomach clench.
Before she could spit something back at him, a familiar voice cut into their conversation.
“Hey Yukhi!” Naveen’s greeting was a welcome interruption.
She turned to him with a smile, ignoring the tall, hulking menace standing beside her. “Naveen, it’s been too long,” she cooed as she air kissed his cheeks.
“Has it?” Naveen’s smile was thin as he engaged in some kind of staring contest with Ishaan. “Strange company you’re keeping nowadays, Yukhi.”
She laughed, an awkward sound. “I am, aren’t I?”
“She is,” Ishaan interjected smoothly. “Yukhi’s all about broadening her horizons, aren’t you darling?”
She broadened her awkward smile. “That’s right, sweetheart.” She reached back and grabbed the front of his shirt, digging her fingers in and hoping she got some of his chest hair too. “Naveen, Ishaan and I-“
“No.” Naveen shook his head, interrupting her. “There is no Ishaan and you. There can’t be. No way in hell.”
“Excuse me?” Mayukhi wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Friends they might be, but Naveen didn’t get to tell her who she could and couldn’t date or for that matter get forcefully engaged to.
“Do you know what these guys are doing?” Naveen’s voice was raised high enough to attract the attention of his posse.
“These guys?” Mayukhi repeated. What guys? As far as she knew, Ishaan was just one guy. Unless Naveen had snorted something that was making him see double or triple.
“They’re ruining Varun’s reputation, and he isn’t even alive to defend himself. They’ve got some sick kind of influence over Dhrithi and are making her accuse Varun of domestic violence. Can you believe it? You knew Dhrithi and Varun, Yukhi. You’ve hung out with all of us. Do you believe this shit? Do you believe Varun could do this?”
Before she could respond, the organisers started making fundraising noises at the podium and they had to follow the crowd to the beautifully set up tables. Ishaan pulled her chair out and Mayukhi lowered herself into it, a strange numbness taking over her body.
“Was he telling the truth?” she asked him as he leaned over her to push her chair in.
Ishaan turned his face, those darkly intense eyes of his meeting hers. “What do you think, Yukhi?” he asked, a mocking twist to his lips.
“Don’t call me that,” she said, her voice an even tone.
“Why?”
“Only my friends call me that.”
He straightened and took his seat, not looking at her any longer, his gaze on the stage at the front. Mayukhi straightened her shoulders and forced herself to ignore the venomous glares her friends were shooting her.
There would be time to talk. For now, she would do what she was meant to. She’d pretend to be Ishaan Adajania’s, no matter how much it made her skin crawl. Her skin did crawl, she told her rebellious conscience when it tried to correct her. Skin. Did. Crawl.