Darsh entered the guest room and shrugged off his jacket as a server placed a pair of black silk pajamas at the foot of his bed. Another server pushed in a silver trolley laden with fruits and juices. Expensive crystal ware glimmered in the pleasantly ambient lighting. A tall silver glass of warm milk was reverently placed by his bedside as the servers retreated keeping their heads low.

"Would there be anything else for tonight, Sir?" The Butler asked politely keeping his eyes to the ground. Darsh smirked. He could get used to this, this respect, this deference, this unmistakable feeling of climbing the higher echelons of societal status. These were just the perks of his position as the future son-in-law of Balwant Rai Sharma.

"I am fine, thanks." Dismissing the man with a wave of his hand, Darsh flopped on the bed. The guest room of Sharma Residence was lavish by any standards but he wished he was on the third floor, in a certain room with a hundred-and-eighty-degree view of blue mountains. With swirling silk curtains, thick piled rugs, and a vast circular bed in the middle begging for more occupants. The scent of jasmine in that room was something else. It was the room of his princess. He wished he was there and not in this room, still treated as a guest.

"Soon...," a voice cooed from inside, trying to soothe his hot head. Not just his head, but his mind, his body too needed some cooling tonight.

Darsh sighed. To say he was aroused was an understatement. His body was taut, his skin hot. His head was hotter and his mind was numb with all that pent-up frustration he had to deal with while keeping the facade of his honor.

The infinite reserves of his patience were running low. Today he had come close to losing it, if not for the three men dueling inside his head. It was crazy. A battle of wills that he'd only survived because the male inside him was outnumbered by the other two.

"Nothing will happen that shouldn't happen!"

One of them had made him utter those words. One of them had stopped him from doing what the male inside him had craved insanely. He couldn't take her when she was clearly not ready; when she was trembling with fear but was still willing to go through it just to prove her love. The gesture humbled him, he couldn't deny that. It was more than anyone else had shown him before, an obscure face of a certain someone peeped through the shadows, but he pushed it resolutely away.

Whatever. The decision was made in a split second and luckily he had enough senses left to stick to it. Moreover, it was necessary to win her trust, to assure her for one final time of his impeccable intentions. He had to take every opportunity to create goodwill with her, it was his insurance against the future when she'd come to know his brother's truth.

Folding his arms behind his head he closed his eyes. As was his habit, his mental calendar popped in front of him for its end-of-the-day review. Of all the days he had spent in Palampur so far, today shone the brightest. Her confession, her acceptance, her approval - he had achieved all three in a single masterstroke. For a moment it felt like he had achieved everything but that thought passed him unnoticed.

The bastard inside him was content, snoozing in a corner, dreaming of his impending triumph, as was that little part of him called conscience that still managed to cling on to whatever was leftover of his honesty. The charitable wing, the locket, the magnanimous way he had assured her he'd take care of her - all little trinkets were enough to keep his conscience quiet. It was like a good honest dog - a pat on the head every now and then, a diet of some good deeds kept it in shipshape. What he did the rest of the time, it was not concerned. It was a happy little dog, willing to spring to his defense when he needed it, and more importantly, content to sit in a corner when he wanted it out of the way.

He let out a sigh. Somedays he wondered just how much of his unknown father he had inside him. He liked to think himself an honorable man, more like his mother, but every now and then, in do-or-die situations like this, it was his father who came to his rescue. It was him he relied on when he needed help. His mother brought him peace, but it was the unfeeling bastard inside him, the devious low-life, that helped him achieve what he really wanted in life.

The thought churned in his gut, a gagging reflux shook him bringing tiny beads of perspiration to his forehead. Repulsed, he sat up with a jerk, pushing the offensive thoughts away. Whatever his reality, he didn't need anyone reminding him. He already had plenty of people showing him the mirror, he didn't need his own mind playing the same game.

It didn't matter who he was, what he was, as long as he could rectify it. It would be fixed soon, his princess would soon be here to help him out of it.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Thinking of which, he glanced at his watch. It'd been ten minutes since he left Aditi with her grandfather. They would talk for maybe another five minutes, then Balwant Sharma would call his mother to fix the wedding date. The conversation would last for a max of three minutes - Balwant Sharma was a man of few words and his mother was too polite to chit-chat with an elderly man. So he should expect a call from his Ma in about... ten minutes?

He picked up the nightsuit and went to the bathroom. By the time he was back, his phone rang. Darh chuckled.

"Ma, how are you?" Darsh asked pleasantly, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"I'm fine, Darsh. Aditi's Dadaji just called to fix the wedding date. He sounded quite ill. Is everything okay?" His Ma's voice was full of concern. Darsh sighed.

"He got to know about the incident Ma. He is very shaken."

"Poor man. I understand," his Ma's voice was somber. "He wants the wedding to be in a week. I have agreed. Is that okay?"

His heart did a few somersaults as tiny prickles of excitement slithered his skin from head to toe. Heat coursed through his body, but he somehow contained himself and kept his voice calm.

"Of course, Ma. Whatever you think right."

His answer should have satisfied his Ma, but she was quiet for several moments. Darsh frowned.

"What is it Ma? Are you not happy?"

"I am happy Darsh. It's just that...." She sounded unsure. "I know you are marrying Aditi because of Vicki and it's the right thing to do, but after I saw her today...," she paused again sounding a bit flustered. Darsh pursed his lips, wondering where this was going.

"She is a very sweet girl, Darsh. Very innocent, and pure. And she would expect the same honesty from you, us. It will not be easy for her when she gets to know the truth." His Ma fell silent as her voice filled with shame. Darsh let out a shaky sigh. He had expected this. His Ma was a simple person with a very clear definition of right and wrong. So far she had played along, drawing from her own past and agreeing to his actions, but it was clear she was having second thoughts.

Swapping the phone carefully from one hand to the other, he sat on the bed. He had to handle this carefully. His Ma didn't know what was at stake. The last thing he wanted was for her to play a good samaritan and spoil all his plans.

"I know Ma, but trust me this is not the right time, Dadaji won't be able to take it," he spoke slowly, his voice filling with genuine concern. It was not difficult; he had come to care for the old man after all.

"And Aditi...I want to see her happy, Ma. We owe it to her. She has suffered so much; I think it will be very cruel of us to snatch this little happiness from her. She will know when she knows but the least, we can do is to spare her the heartache until then."

He kept talking, cajoling, convincing until his Ma fell into a silent agreement. Ten minutes later he dozed off with a smile on his face. He was worrying unnecessarily. All his Ma needed was a gentle reassurance, and maybe he too needed it at this moment.

*****

The night deepened as the storm slowly receded giving way to a light drizzle. In the little cottage in the woods, Zorawar moved from room to room carefully conducting his search.

He started with the tiny guest room, there was nothing in there except for the model on the table. He spent an inordinately long time frowning at it before moving to the living room. This too was innocuous, if he'd gauged the occupant correctly, he was unlikely to leave anything remotely suspicious in the living room. Or indeed the cottage, Zorawar knew he was a bit too late in this. He should have conducted this search long ago, but his master had stayed his hand. And for all he knew, now it might be already too late.

Jaw set in tight disapproval, he turned to the kitchen, pulling open the numerous drawers, cupboards, and fridge. The more he looked, the more he was convinced there was nothing of his interest here. The cottage was squeaky clean, the kitchen spotless; even the rubbish in the bins looked tidy. He took one look at the neatly labeled packages in the freezer before banging it shut.

His disappointment rose in proportion to his suspicion. This was not a cottage of an innocuous bachelor holidaymaker. This was a cottage of a schemer, who had somehow his master wrapped around his little finger. In a few days, he would marry Aditi, and then it would be too late to stop him.

He covered the small bathroom, then turned to the bedroom. He had high hopes here, there must be something hidden in the neatly folded pairs of clothes - thirty white t-shirts, with ten denim jeans - five blue, five black. A stack of neatly folded handkerchiefs sat next to the shirts along with a used clothes bin that was neatly tucked away at the back of the cupboard.

Patiently, Zorawar pulled the bin, then pulled all the clothes out going through the pockets carefully. Nothing. Zilch, Nada!

Grinding his teeth he tucked everything back in its place. It was clear his quarry was alert. He had either destroyed all the evidence or hidden it somewhere else. That somewhere else could either be the Range Rover that was currently parked at the Sharma Residence or that backpack of his that he carried everywhere like a third arm.

Pursing his lips he swiped his eyes one final time, then came out locking the door with the spare key. He hadn't found anything yet he felt his visit was useful. The lack of evidence could be the proof he was looking for. He just had to look harder. Smarter, and faster. He still had one week, that should be enough to find something to avert the disaster.

***** *****