| meant the woman you are living with.’ ‘Darling, there are no tarts in my life. I am not living with anyone …’ He was speaking on a dead line. She had hung up. ‘You are going, aren’t you?’ Ekta asked, her voice dripping venom. ‘Of course, I’ll go,’ he sneered. ‘Only a minute ago you were threatening to throw me out, weren’t you? D’you think I have nowhere to go?’ ‘You’ll be sorry if you go,’ she threatened. ‘I’ll be sorrier if I don’t go,’ he snarled back. ‘By the way, who are you to tell me what I should do and what I shouldn’t. You don’t own me.’ She punched him on his nose. Stunned, he hissed through his teeth, ‘just you wait until we get home.’ ‘Asshole! Don’t you try to threaten me,’ she shouted. Her reply didn’t bother him. Rohan Sharma’s heart was leaping with hope. An important announcement, which may be of immense interest to you … she had said. He was sure that she was seeking reconciliation. It had been a long time since he had had a vacation. The announcement had something to do with their marriage, he was sure, but what could it be? Ramola’s gaze strayed to the serene mountains in the distance and she sighed contentedly. The lawn before her was strewn with cedar cones. Behind her stood the quaint colonial cottage wrapped possessively by a wide veranda. It had been a good life, quiet as it had been. ‘The trap has been |
had been turned into a dance floor and the guests were shaking a leg to calypso. Amused, he took up position in a corner of the room and watched them gyrate. The hall, with a faint smell of lavender in the air and clever lighting, bore a festive look. Some of the guests, winded after the brave effort at strenuous dancing, left the floor. The colonel strolled up to the music player and, minutes later, the music changed to a sexy waltz. A loud cheer went up as, notwithstanding his limp, Acharya put aside his cane to steer Ramola to the impromptu dance floor which had been created by pushing the furniture back against the wall. Ahuja claimed Ramola’s hand for the next dance. Bowing out gracefully, the colonel pulled Laila towards the centre of the hall, and the couple began waltzing to the haunting notes of ‘The Blue Danube’. From the corner of his eye, an amused Acharya observed Tia trying to keep the leering Rohan at arm’s length. Arif’s eyes swept through the chamber before settling on the tall and trim colonel in sartorial splendour combining a navy-blue, double-breasted blazer and grey trousers with a maroon silk scarf knotted stylishly around his neck. The short, thick mop of salt and pepper hair was parted to a side, adding distinction to the debonair appearance. He was now standing by the makeshift bar, leaning on a rosewood cane, his hand resting lightly on its brass eagle head. The don stared |
