Chapter 7
Seven
HARSH
A familiar fatigue dogged him as he forced himself out of his car and into the party he needed to attend tonight. Needed, not wanted. The world would be surprised to know just how little Harsh wanted to party nowadays. Doing what Nanda Garu wanted was going to be a piece of cake.
“HARSH!” The boisterous shout had him turning towards the ruckus just before a muscled body slammed into him. The only thing keeping him from crashing to the ground was his bodyguard, Natraj.
“Easy Vinayak,” he laughed, shoving his friend off him.
“Now the party’s going to explode.” Vinayak made a whooshing sound, flapping his hand in the air.
Harsh eyed him warily. Stoned, his friend was fucking stoned. The weariness settled like a cloak over his shoulders again. He wanted to be back home watching a movie or listening to music in the privacy of his bedroom. Not here, getting thumped on his back for existing by friends who were blown out of their minds. Or getting checked out by rather rabid looking women. He turned his back on them, so they didn’t get any bold ideas.
“Dude, there are some smoking hot chicks inside.” Vinayak pointed a thumb at the independent house behind them. “Go get them tiger.”
Harsh sighed. His inner tiger had turned into a pussy cat. But he had an image to maintain, so he said, “Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”
They made their way in, people thronging around them asking for selfies, or just wanting to make conversation. Everyone thought that if they hung out with him long enough, some of the shine of his charmed life would rub off on them too. Harsh wondered what they’d say if they knew that the shine was all there was. Beneath it was just a lump of coal.
“Drink?” Vinayak hollered over the pounding beat of the music.
Harsh nodded. “Vodka on the rocks,” he shouted back. He leaned against the bar as Vinayak got his drink organised and scanned the dimly lit, crowded space. This was a large house, but his friend had managed to pack it to the gills. Half of Hyderabad’s social scene must be here.
“Excuse me?” The girl wore an orange lace dress that left very little to the imagination. “Could I get a selfie with you?”
Harsh squashed his grimace and smiled at her. “Sure.” He posed, the smile and angle coming naturally to him, a second skin he donned, and one that some days he never took off.
“I really loved your movie,” Orange Dress simpered, naming an older release.
“Thanks,” he said briefly, going back to scanning the room. He saw an acquaintance across the room and raised a hand in shared greeting.
“I thought you were so hot in the swimming pool scene.”
Harsh ignored that comment. That scene had been a mistake but one that he’d have to take ownership of. He’d honestly thought the brief glimpse of a sliver of his butt wouldn’t be such a big deal. But a year along, and it was still all people talked about. He could see Nanda Garu’s point.
“In fact,” Orange Dress drawled on obliviously, her voice bordering on coy. “If you want to go swimming with me later tonight, we can make it happen.”
“No thanks.” Harsh sipped from his drink, pointedly looking over her shoulder.
Orange Dress pressed up close to him, her breast pushing against his arm. “We could go skinny dipping,” she purred.
Before he could reply, a gagging sound came from behind them. Whoa! Was someone drunk enough to throw up so early in the party. The night was still young. It was only eleven, not even midnight.
He turned to look to see who the lightweight was but couldn’t spot anyone who might be the culprit.
“Okay. If you don’t like that idea, we can think of something else,” Orange Dress declared, pouting. “What do you want to do with me? Or to me, for that matter?”
Harsh choked, his vodka going down the wrong way. Orange Dress didn’t even slap his back or try to help in any way as he gasped and spluttered in front of her. She just gaped at him like a goldfish that had escaped its bowl of water.
“I don’t think,” Harsh wheezed. “That’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Orange Dress bent backwards at the waist till her hands touched the ground and then flipped back up. She ran her tongue along her lower lip. “I’m very flexible.”
Harsh stared at her, genuinely impressed by the flex. He wouldn’t have been able to bend like that even if he yoga-d his way through life for the next year.
“Wow okay.” He took a careful sip of his vodka. “That’s something.”
The gagging sound came again, closer this time. He hoped whoever it was wasn’t going to throw up near him. Harsh was a sympathetic puker. Someone puked, so did he.
“I can do more.” Orange Dress wasn’t done. “I can break a pencil with my vagina.
Harsh gaped at her, a little scared now. “Umm okay.”
“Why would you want to?” A new voice entered the conversation. A voice Harsh knew well. Of course, she was the gagger. She should be gagged but nope, God wasn’t going to do him that favour.
She stepped up to stand beside him. Five foot nothing, in frayed and torn jeans and a simple white crop top, her hair in a braid and her glasses perched on her nose, she was quietly pretty and frankly terrifying.
Beside her, Ram gave him a brief smile. Harsh smiled back. He had no beef with Ram. In fact, he liked Ram. Point to be noted, Harsh liked most people. Except her .
“Eh?” Orange Dress’s intelligent repartee was not helping the current situation. The Viper beside him would eviscerate her without a second’s thought. Harsh was feeling oddly protective of his new, flexible friend.
“Why would you want to break a pencil with your vagina? And if you could do that, I’m assuming you could do the same with a phallus?”
“A what?” Orange Dress frowned.
“Dick,” Harsh supplied helpfully.
“Dick what?” Perplexed, Orange Dress looked from Harsh to the Viper. “Your dick? Yes, I’d like to see it.”
“Just see?” The Viper asked coolly, amusement trickling through her voice.
“Obviously not.” Orange Dress was irritated. “I’d like to do a lot with it, including sex.”
“Of course.” Viper murmured. “Sex with the pencil breaking vagina. Bet you could get his dick in a headlock.”
A pained noise escaped Harsh at the thought. “Stop it,” he hissed at the Viper. Ram snickered even as he murmured a warning, “Raash.”
“Stop what?” she queried innocently. Innocent his sliver of a naked arse! She was as innocent as a siren singing to doomed sailors.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Orange Dress demanded.
“NO!” Harsh and the Viper shouted at the same time, both sounding equally horrified. Ram burst into laughter behind them.
Orange Dress looked between the two of them and whatever conclusions she drew, they were enough for her to mutter, “Whatever.” She disappeared into the crowd without a backward glance.
“Sorry.” The Viper smiled, a cold twisting of her lips. “Didn’t mean to cockblock you.”
“You didn’t.” Harsh glared at her. “Don’t flatter yourself. If I’d wanted her, I would have had her.”
“Of course. Pencil sharpener vaginas seem like your kind of kink.”
“She wasn’t sharpening anything,” he defended irrationally. “She said she broke pencils, not sharpened them.”
Raashi Gadde, evil incarnate, sipped her virulently pink drink through a mangled paper straw and mulled that over.
“Whatever,” she announced, doing a remarkable imitation of Orange Dress.
Harsh stifled the laugh that threatened to break free. The last thing he wanted to do was let her think he enjoyed talking to her.
“What are you doing here?”
She raised an insolent eyebrow at him. “I didn’t know I needed your permission to be anywhere.”
Irritation flared again. “Are you incapable of answering a simple question with a simple answer?”
“No. I am perfectly capable of it.” She slurped the last of her ridiculous drink and set her glass down.
“Then why don’t you?” he demanded.
She looked at him, sparks flaring behind those idiotic Gandhi shaped glasses of hers. “I don’t want to,” she sniped. “Especially when it comes to you.”
“Raash,” Ram said again.
Harsh looked at the other man. “Is that all you’re going to say at regular intervals while she runs wild like a feral rodent?”
“A feral rodent?” Her glasses were steaming up with outrage. “I’ll tell you why I’m here, you arrogant-“
“Raashi!” Her name snapped like a whip from Ram’s mouth and for once, she fell silent, a mutinous glare on her face.
Harsh looked at them, intrigued. Wow. How did Ram do that? He would pay anything to learn a trick that silenced this harpy.
And then she sighed and a look of defeat slipped over her previously mutinous face. It took Harsh a moment to realise that he didn’t like it. He was familiar with the ‘many nasty moods’ of Raashi Gadde but defeat had never played a role in them. And for some obscure reason, he found himself not liking it at all. He loved to get the better of her in an argument, but he didn’t like seeing her look defeated.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she was being strangled.
Harsh stared at her blankly. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes,” she ground out, looking miserable. “Do you want me to repeat myself? I’m sorry, okay?”
Bewildered, Harsh glanced at Ram who nodded back at him. “For what?” Harsh asked cautiously.
“You know for what?” She looked livid. “Is it necessary for you to humiliate me?”
“I’m not trying to humiliate you,” Harsh replied. “I genuinely have no clue what you’re apologizing for.” He had a laundry list of offences she’d committed towards him but then so had he towards her. So, by that token…
“Um, I’m sorry too?” he offered, his confusion making it sound like a question.
“Don’t mock me,” she growled.
Jeez, the woman made his head spin. How the fuck was he mocking her now?
“She’s sorry about what she said at the movie premiere,” Ram interjected, seemingly fed up with the two of them.
“Oh that!” Harsh shrugged. “It’s okay.”
An uncomfortable silence fell around their little trio as they tried to think of something they had in common to discuss. Anything that would steer the conversation out of uncomfortable waters.
“So, how’s work?” Harsh broke it finally with a question for Ram.
“Same old,” Ram said easily, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “I-“ Whatever he’d been about to say disappeared into the ether as he stared at the girl who’d appeared in the doorway to the room.
“Hey!” Harsh exclaimed. “Aadhya! Over here!”
Aadhya, his brother-in-law’s sister and someone he considered a friend, grinned at him and waved. Her smile dimmed a little at the sight of his companions but Harsh didn’t have time to puzzle that out before she arrived at their little group.
“Hi everyone. Good party huh?” Aadhya beamed generally at them, her long curls cascading down her back like a waterfall, almost to the hem of her very short dress.
“Yeah.” Harsh said, when it looked like neither of the Gaddes were going to respond. Raashi looked like she thought this party was anything but good and Ram…well, the muscle ticking in his jaw looked like it was going to pop. He clearly wasn’t enjoying the party either.
“Are Akka and Aarush Anna here too?” Harsh asked looking around to see if he could spot them.
“Not yet. They may come by later,” Aadhya replied. “How are you enjoying your vacation in India so far, Raashi?” she asked the other girl with a friendly smile.
A short beat of silence and then the Viper mumbled, “It’s not a vacation. I’m back for good.”
Why God Why? Harsh looked up to where he presumed the heavens were. What had he ever done to deserve this? Hell was supposed to be down under, not right here in the middle of his life, presided upon by the Queen of Evil herself.
“Don’t look so constipated, Kodela. I would have thought you wouldn’t give a shit if I were here or not.”
And with that, she sauntered off into the crowd, not bothering to look back at him. Not that he wanted her to look back, he thought angrily. The woman was a fucking menace. No, she was a disease. A horrible, wasting disease.
It was only as he watched her stiff back retreat through the crowd that it struck him. He was no longer exhausted. The fatigue that dogged him, every second of every day, in recent times seemed to have sloughed off.
Instead, he felt…exhilarated.
His gaze went to that petite frame lined with poison and snark. Fuck his life. Exhilarated was not on the agenda. Not with a woman who was far more vicious than one with pencil sharpening vaginas.