There are those moments when things just seem to come together. There are those signs that make your heart flutter. There are those moments, which you wish that would never end. Today is not one of those moments. I wonder what it is I really want. I don't want to go back to my life before him, but I don't want to go forward. There are too many secrets that will come out, and what they will hold I don't know. This scares me. Knowledge is not always a good thing.

The young acne faced porter slots his card in hurriedly. His hand trembles at the door as he pushes the door open. He's terrified. His eyes fleet backwards and forwards fear flickers through them repeatedly.

I follow him taking in the sterile looking room. Although the modem- Victorian looking lights omit a soft warm glow it barely touches my skin. The Porter places my bag on the bed and glances at me expectantly. Kabir places his hand on my shoulder and I can feel him nodding his head in approval. The room is as big as some people's whole houses. There is a living room attached and a large marble bathroom. It's way too luxiourous for a whore like me. A memory flickers through my eyes. It reminds me of Pretty Woman. But I am no Julia Roberts and Kabir is certainly no Richard Gere. The two men swathed in black scan the room, searching for any bugs. It seems to be clear.

I move to the window and gaze over the city's bright lights that fill the night air. A desolate feeling fills my mind. I can see Kabir's reflection in the glass. The doors to the living room and nearly closed but I can see through the gap. He paces backwards and forwards his phone pressed to his cheek. His other hand runs through his thick hair. His mouth moves but I either can't hear the words or my mind has shut out sound.

He stops and his eyes flicker through the gap onto me. Don't leave me alone. Don't leave me alone, my mind cries. He moves towards the door and as I turn the door shuts on me. Horror fills me.

I can't turn back and I don't want to be alone. As these soundless words pass with my tongue I question why they are quiet.

I don't want to be here any longer. Today and tomorrow have become one, I seem to have lost all sense of time. I can't turn back and this empty room feels me with sorrow.

The shrill of the phone interrupts my melancholy.

"Hello?"

"Answer ok, if you're alone." A raspy voice murmurs through my ear. I know who it is even without asking.

"Ok."

"Good. You know who this is?"

"Yes."

"Have you considered our offer?"

My mind panics. " I need more time."

"Ok. Remember you're not alone." And the line goes dead. I relax on the bed and run my hands through my hair.

"Who was that?" The voice makes me jump and I glance to see Kabir standing in the room, his arms crossed over his chest and a questioning look lies on his brow.

"Room service." My mind quickly lies.

He nods his head in acceptance and moves into the bathroom. A few seconds later and I hear the rush of water as he starts his shower. My shoulders relax and I realise Im a better liar than I believed.

Maybe I could I do as they wish, I wonder sitting in the room alone. A small smile seems to appear at my lips. Maybe I could get him, reverse the roles of power.

"You've got a strange look on your face." Again he has appeared and I haven't noticed but this time I don't jump.

"Do I?"

I watch his eye's scanning my face trying to see what I'm thinking. He nods his head.

"I'm not sure I like that expression."

I stand up and stare at him, my cool light eyes fixed on his dark ones. I'm aware of the droplets of water running down his bare chest and making small pools at his feet.

"Deal with it." I say amazing myself with my strength. Something's happening to me and I'm not sure what or why it is.

He marches over to me and pulls me to him. "You might be able to control me physically but you'll never control my mind, I'm not what you think I am." I whisper raising my eyebrow.

Something new flickers through his eyes, but its quickly replaced with arrogance. "Oh really?"

I stare down at his big hand resting on my hip, his fingers twiddling with the waistband of my trousers. I'm string at the fine hairs, aware of the power in that hand. His whole body has an aura of power, of being in control, of taking charge. I feel as if we have never kissed never been together. What would he be like a lover now? Would he be rough and impatient, or tender and slow?

I must not think like this. I must not let myself be drawn into his trap. I jerk my eyes away from his hand. My eyes met his lips and all I could feel was a consuming desire for them to be against mine.

They were. His lips press lightly against mine and I feel a surge of desire fill me. I feel the warmth of our lips spread through me. The kiss deepens and I feel his hand roam me. I feel as if it's been so long, too long since our last encounter. I feel my body followed by my mind bend to his will. I sink beside him, aware of his hand resting on the curve of my back. His soft fingers send a tingle of shivers through my nerves. I'm aware that he is naked apart from his white towel tied around his waist.

The kiss isn't enough I want more. I want him to pull away for a second and tell me he loves me then make sweet love to me. I wonder how I would feel if he told me what I wanted. I feel my heart swell as his kiss deepens. Then he pulls away and my heart stops. Does he love me? I find myself searching for air. The sweet smell of his shampoo lingers in the air around us.

He's going to say something and already I can feel my heart melting. The silence is deafening and I'm hanging by a thread waiting for him to speak. A knock is heard but we both ignore it. The phone rings but we both ignore it.

He leans into me and my heart starts to beat again but ferociously against my chest. I'm waiting and wanting. My breasts rise of a ferocity that is barely unnoticeable.

His words are smooth and lyrical and they linger in my ears. My face remains expressionless a poor reflection of inside me as I take in the full effect of his words.

He tightens his towel and moves to the door without a backwards glance at my desolate self. I want to cry, but I said I would never cry over him. The ringing and the knocking stop suddenly. I clear my throat.

The helicopters rotors whirl above my head so loudly I can barely think. A small pleasure I've been unaccustomed to in the recent days past. I gaze down at the sweeping green landscape below me. Kabir sits beside me his eyes watching me intently. I still Love him and still want him. Why?

I watch as we cross the miles of empty countryside. We seem to have been travelling for ages. My head aches from the continuous sound.

Then I see it. Hidden between the thick folds of forests. Only able to be seen from above, a mass of thick industrial buildings. I can see small white moving objects making their way between the buildings. It looks so big and destructive among the beautiful landscape around it.

The helicopter pulls in lower and I watch as we land in the centre of the compound. Several men rush out to help us. I'm aware of the eyes watching me, judging me.

"Where are we?" I shout over the raucous sound of the helicopter as we climb out. The artificial wind whips up my hair and throws it across my face. Kabir grabs my hand and pulls me to safety. I watch as the helicopter rises and the pilot salutes Kabir.

"Welcome to my world." His hand crushes around mine and a nauseous feeling grips my stomach. I watch as his people smile. Their smiles aren't real, they are artificial, paid for by him. Suddenly I feel so alone yet claustrophobic and I want everything to end.

There was a time when I thought that he loved me. It seems strange, that I completely forgot that time. It was a memory suppressed by pain. There was a time when I thought that I had met my soul mate in him. I don't know what triggered this memory but it came and flooded my senses with remembrance. There was a time when I was silly enough to believe that I knew the real him and I could be the woman to change him. But however much you try you can never truly change a person it must come from within them.

I remember in this memory how I had not resisted him like before and now. How I had willingly let myself love him and hoped he would to. I think he knew then that I loved him, but he doesn't know now.

The warm evening air tingled against my skin. I stood on the balcony overlooking the beautiful view below me. The Small provincial Town cascaded down the hillside and plunged into the deep blue sea. I could smell the sea salty air as it swirled around me. The sun was drifting lower behind the horizon. Its orange glow seemed self-contained until it reached and spread over the sky. I felt as I could stand here all night and just watch the sun set.

I felt his presence behind me even before he spoke. His soft words lingered in my ears for longer than was natural. "When the sun sets it is said to be one of the most beautiful things, but the most beautiful is standing here with me." I should have groaned at his line on me but instead a felt a simper of pleasure rifle through me.

His tender lips were brushing against my shoulder. His fingers playing with the strap of my summer dress, pushing it backwards and forwards, as if he was indecisive. I hadn't seen Kabir all day, he'd been doing business, but I didn't mind. The day belonged to me and the night to him. I'd wondered down to the beach that day and bathed in the warm Mediterranean. I'd watched the small children splash around in the sea, so carefree and free from responsibility. My tan had deepened and a few freckles had appeared on my cheeks. The sun does that to me, but my eyes seemed to be a shining white masked by soft lashes.

His fingers were massaging my shoulders.

"We had better leave now, or we will never make it to the restaurant," he was smiling.

He took my hand and led me to the car.

The meal was nice, the French food was exquisite. I was not unaware of the people watching me in the restaurant. The waiter whose fingers brushed mine ever so slightly when he took my menu or the way his eyes lingered on me. Kabir noticed of course, angered he changed the waiter but he couldn't stop the other men in the restaurant looking at me. His mood seemed to darken and I felt the shutters close to me. Over the last few days it had felt different between him and me. It was as if we were equals and he was no longer my master and I, his mistress. It was the only time that I had heard him talk of his family or even himself. There was something about being here, that had made something change between us.

I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders, as the evening was cooler. I could hear the waves lapping against the shore but a few metres from us.

Kabir began to stride towards the car, his anger evident. He wasn't a man for sharing, especially sharing me. I felt a certain amount of pride at this rather than my usual disgust. My head was humming from the wine; I could feel my head spinning a little.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him to me. He stopped and looked into my eyes before taking me into a warm embrace followed by a soft kiss that I had never experienced by him.

I led him quietly onto the soft sand. Here I leant against him as I removed my shoes and watched as he copied my actions. We left our shoes on the sand and wondered along the beach. I'm not sure when and how but we came to hold each other's hands. He told me a story of his childhood and I laughed drunkenly at its childish stupidity. His lopsided grin accompanied my laugh. And then I was running, my hair flowing behind me, my dress rising to expose my knickers. I could hear him chasing me, I laughed and turned round and smiled at him mischievously.

He reached me and caught me in his arms. I struggled playfully in his grasp as he tried to kiss me.

"You know you are so intoxicating," he murmured to me. I laughed and ran free of his grasp. Then I was splashing in the sea. The water soaking my skin. Then he had dived in beside me. I pushed my head under the seawater and when I rose I could not see him anywhere. I felt panic as I realised I was in the sea on my own. Then I felt something tugging on my leg as I was pulled under. When we both reached the surface we gasped for breath our eyes alight like children. Then the smiles seemed to darken and a desire seemed to have overcome us. I reached and pulled him to me. His white shirt was clear and I could see his chest, and I knew he could see the same through my dress.

Then he was walking out of the sea my legs wrapped his waist. We fell to the soft sand out of breath. I could feel his presence strongly on me. Only the faint light of the moon illuminated us. I could barely make out his face but could see his desire as usual across it, but there was a tenderness I had never seen before. I felt his hand sliding up my thigh, pushing my dress up to my stomach. My hands were playing in his wet hair. I felt his hand now sliding my pants down my wet legs slowly. Then I was unbuttoning his shirt until it floated away onto the sand. My dress clung to my stomach, and his hands roamed tenderly over it. We didn't need to speak, our actions spoke clearly. We wanted each other now. He wanted me and I wanted him. I wasn't scared of letting him know that I wanted him. It was new I never had before but I knew it was right.

Then his kisses were trailing lower down my abdomen. My hands slowly opened his trousers, as if treasuring the excitement of opening a prize.

My heart was beating full against my chest and I could feel that his was too.

Then we had rolled over the sand and he was inside me. Are movements became more rhymatic and my hands clung to his back. We stared endlessly into each other eyes as we became one. It was at this climatic moment that I thought he loved me. There was some feeling extra emotion in this time. It didn't feel like we were just fucking like it normally did. It felt different.

Our groans were silent and I was then sitting up staring out across the sea as he thrusted deeper. I nuzzled my head into his shoulder as I felt his arms around my backside.

Then we reached that delirious feeling of happiness as he exploded in me. We sat like that for a while, breathing heavily taking in each other's smells. I wanted to stay like this forever. Even though it was cold I could barely feel it.

He murmured my name and I looked into his eyes. He looked as if he was going to say something important, but then he simply smiled. "You have seaweed in your hair," I went to take it out, but he stopped me.

"Leave it, for some reason you look like some beautiful flower, a single perfect Pooja."

I laughed at him, how could having seaweed in my hair make me look like a flower?

I found myself speaking without realising what I was saying. "My father used to call me Pooja. It was his name for me..." My sentence trailed off as I gazed out into the now calm sea.

When I returned my gaze to Kabir something cold was in his eyes, his touch stiffened and he stood up. It was as if he had realised what had happened, that this night he had given me a part of the real him. He pulled on his now wet and sandy trousers and began walking back down the beach to his car.

As I remember I feel an overwhelming sense of loss. That was when I gained and lost him. That isolated memory makes us sound like lovers. That was not the man that now sits beside me, talking slowly and calmly to his employees. He doesn't once glance at me. I see him watching the young pretty girl across from him. He's looking at her like he once did with me. I see her looking back at him. Something has or will happen between them. I feel it, I know it and I know him.

Something tight grasps around my stomach making me find it hard to breathe. I want that something to go away. It hurts, I want this horrible hurtful feeling of jealousy to leave but it only increases. My insecurities rise we haven't had sex in a while, we normally always have sex. He's bored of me and he wants her. I hate him. I hate what he's done to me. I hate him. I should warn the woman but I want her to suffer just like me.

Jealousy is a horrible thing, but hatred is worse. I wonder if I love the man next to me or the man in that forgotten memory. Jealousy is a horrible thing, hatred is worse but Love is more crippling than both together. I hate Love. I hate you. I hate that things change and that they really don't.

"Can I get you anything, Mr Mittal?" I watch as her voice lingers on his name. He glances up briefly from his papers and pauses before he answers.

"No thank you, Ishani" He knows her name.

She smiles and exits the room, her hips swaying sexually. I watch as he watches the pretty woman leave. He glances over to me but I have already averted my eyes to the window. I know he'll have her maybe tonight or the next night. He won't want her like he wanted me. I was a challenge, he enjoys that. As long as he gets what he wants in the end then he's happy but to have to work for it makes the prize even better.

I know I'm the longest he's kept a woman for, what has it been now. Four years or is it five? The days all seem to meld into one and I can't tell. My time will come though; I'm nearing my sell by date.

I can hear the men start to talk about some sort of chemical research. It bores me and I gaze out of the window into the compound. There is little movement but I know it's a different story inside the warehouses where they carry out his work whatever it is.

I drift away into my lonesome thoughts. All I have is him, and he doesn't care. I shudder as I remember his words whispered into my ear in the hotel room yesterday. He's a liar.

I wonder what my once friends are doing now. They are probably married and have their own families everything that I want. But that's not really what I want. I want him.

The silence hits me and I turn my head and see the four men are looking at me. I raise an eyebrow and watch as Kabir clears his throat. It's as if they have just been talking about me, maybe they have I haven't been paying attention.

Kabir goes to speak but one of the older men interrupts him. "We understand that you trust her so much, and know that you wouldn't just bring anyone here, but it seems she is a little bored." It's as if im a mere child, at the office with her daddy. I feel a sick twisted anger.

The older man speaks his eyes watching me carefully telling me that he doesn't trust me, but maybe he has every right not to. I hate him, just like everyone else. I hate that he lets Kabir control him, that he thinks he's better than me. But he's just like me another one of Kabir's minions. I want to spit in his face but I as usual refrain from showing my anger. I don't normally get angry I'm so tired of all of this.

"Maybe you would prefer to go somewhere else?" Kabir questions me as he moves closer to me.

I move to the door and deliberately move as he goes to kiss me, so he is kissing thin air.

I can feel his eyes boring into my back, the humiliation though small won't be forgotten I'll pay for it later. But I don't care, its as if everything is going round in circles.

The pretty assistant leads me quietly to our rooms in this main building. Her gaze darts to me once in a while but she says nothing and nor do I.

The apartment is luxurious as usual. Once maybe I would have explored taking in every exquisite detail, but now I'm so tired of this luxury. I'm on my own now, but I'm always on my own and I hate it. Anger rifles through me and I need relief. I locate the drinks cabinet and pour myself a glass of vodka.

I glance around the room unsure what to do. Once I would have had many things to do but now with him I have nothing. He has taken and ruined everything I love. I feel an anger building up in me. I grab another glass and quickly down it. I like the feel of the warm liquid sizzling down my throat.

I can feel the drink already going to my head. Im not really one for handling my drink, it doesn't take much.

The next minute alcohol induced tears are running down my face. I'm not sure why I'm crying. I can't remember when I last did. But these tears aren't for him, they never will be.

Now I've reached for the bottle and taking hefty swigs that burn at my throat. I slide down the wall, my empty glass in my hand. I glance around my face screwed up in pain.

I feel reckless.

Before I realise it the glass has left my hand and reaches the middle of the room, smashing to pieces on the floor. My anger seems to subside and I drunkenly push myself up. I grasp the lamp next to me and smash it against the floor. Thousands of pounds it probably cost but I don't care. After all he's a rich bastard he can afford it.

That's right he's a bastard.

The phone rings and I speak into it. When I'm finished I laugh and spin around and around.

I locate the Stereo and put on some music. I hit 's calm and meant to be soothing but it doesn't work. I stumble around the room, swinging at my bottle like a tramp until the bottle is empty, like me. I chuck it to the ground satisfaction in the shards of glass that spread against the floor.

I'm laughing hysterically like a mad woman. It's as if all my built up anger is creeping out. Its as if some monster from eithin me has been released.I move to the cupboard and grab another bottle. This time it's harder to open and I partly miss my mouth. Whisky runs down my cream top, but I don't care.

I have this overwhelming passion to smash everything. I lift every available thing that I can and send it crashing to the floor.

I'm not really sure why I was and am angry now. It just seemed to hit me. Maybe it was the idea of him and that girl. How pathetic.

I know I'm a pathetic mess too scared to leave him, too scared to really stand up to him.

The bottle is nearly finished and already my head feels numb. My tongue is thick and my words to the open room make little sense. I'm swaying to the music now.

Then it's black.

I peel open and eyelid. Kabir's body is kneeling over me. He's shaking my shoulders trying to get a reaction. There's a shocked look on his face. I've surprised him. Good. I can't speak, I'm still desperately drunk.n's .

He lifts my back up and lets me rest on his arm; his eyes wander down the mess that is me. He looks to my feet. They are bleeding from where the smashed glass has bitten into my skin.

He tenderly rubs my legs and I notice he's holding a pair of tweezers. I wrap my arms round his neck as he carefully removes the small sparkles of glass.

The pain is barely noticeable. I'm whispering in his ears but I'm not sure what I'm saying. He wraps my feet in bandages and lifts me up in his arms.

I'm stroking his hair. "Do you not want me anymore?" I know I'm drunk and sound like a desperately pathetic woman. He doesn't answer so I continue.

"It's been days since we last fucked. Why? Am I not good enough? I was once. Oh yes you liked it then, a woman to corrupt. Look what you have done."

"Your drunk, " he interrupts barely trying to hide the disgust in his voice.

"So what If I am. You did this. You fucked me up properly. Do you remember when we were on the beach, I thought you were different then, I thought that maybe I could feel for you. But you know I hate you. I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone before. But you still haven't answered why haven't we fucked? Fucked that's what it is, to make love it would mean you had to have emotion."

Im talking too much and still he carries me to the bedroom. I can see the anger on his face he's never seen me like this, I don't care. Im aware that after today I will have lost him. I want to tell him how much I love him and want it just to be him and me but all I can tell him is that I hate him.

He places me on the bed and sits beside me, his fists clenched in anger. I can actually see the vein throbbing in his head.

"You trashed the room."

"I know, it's the only thing I could do to get at you." I scream at him. This is turning into some horrible nightmare.

He swings round and his fist is inches from my face.

"That's right. Hit me. Then you can abuse me that way as well. There isn't any other way for you to abuse me," I goad him.

He flinches at my words. Then I'm hitting him. My hands are running backwards and forwards against his chest. He's trying to stop me but I'm manic.

"How much did you drink?" He's mocking me that anger me. He seems to have recovered from his anger. I'm screaming blue murder at him, but now a smug smile rests on his face.

He grabs my wrists suddenly. "Enough." His face is menacing and I'm stunned to nothing.

A small tear runs down my cheek. He releases one of hands and brushes it away. Then our lips are touching and we are kissing. The kiss is hot and more intoxicating than the alcohol. I'm still drunk and my head whirls around endlessly. Then he pushes my legs apart roughly. I do nothing to stop him, I'm enjoying this. It's as if my anger has turned to raw passion.

He's careless and rough and it hurts a little but I'm hot and I'm ready as he pulls me to him. I fight him, but he loves it and I love it too. We're on the floor and our fucking gets more violent. We can't get enough of each other.

When he's done I roll over my back to him. My face pressed against the cool surface. I feel degraded but happy that finally we had sex. Sex like we never had before. I start to wonder at his words that he said in the hotel room yesterday, maybe they were true. It hits my chest hard and I can barely breathe. He pulls my body to him and kisses my head, his hands running over me. I turn to him and rest my head in his body. I'll stay like that until his desire has subsided and he doesn't need me.

I smile faintly into his chest. I know something that he doesn't know. It's going to his him hard and for once he won't be able to control it. He is going to hate me.

"Don't you ever drink or act like that again. Or I swear I will kill you," he murmurs into my hair.

Oh no I don't think you will now. Something has changed. I have changed, but I still love him if not more than ever before.

I close my eyes as I hear the soft lyrical words from the music in the next room sift through my ears. You see, war is not the answer. For only love can conquer hate.

When I awake I have no warm arms wrapped around me. I've been moved onto the bed and the covers wrap me in their warmth but I am still cold. Kabir is changing. He's just had a shower; I can see the drops of water on his skin. His hair is damp and hangs lazily against his forehead. I smile lovingly at him, but when he turns I quickly remove my smile.

He looks at me long and hard. "I never want to see you in that state again," he says.

I feel scared of him, so I nod my head. "I don't think I'll be back tonight...I think I'll be otherwise engaged," he hesitates and a smug smile fills his face. He leaves the room. I know what he is saying and he knows I know. He'll be with her tonight, that other woman. He said it deliberately to hurt me. He is a cruel man and just when I think he has a heart he proves me wrong.

I hear the main door shut and I am alone again.

Finally I muster the strength to get out of bed. I'm knackered from the events of yesterday mentally and physically. I notice the main room has been cleared up. You would not have known that I had smashed so much from its immaculate appearance. The lamp is still missing but the other items I smashed seemed to have been replaced. Just like he will replace me.

My head hurts as my hangover hits me hard and unwillingly.

It's been two hours and I've been watching repeats on the large plasma screen. I'm bored; there is only so much television you can watch. I want to do something.

I stretch my aching body and wander round the flat. There is only the one bedroom with its connecting bathroom. Just off the Main room, which is huge and incorporates a kitchen, dining room and sitting room into one, is a room that looks like a study.

I sink into the large stately chair behind the desk and switch on the computer. It beeps into action. I'm not really sure what I'm doing.

I play solitaire for a while but I get bored. I've already searched through all his files looking for something interesting. To my relief there is nothing, just a bunch of chemical equations and letters. I'm glad I'd hate to stumble along something bad. Even though I know who and what he is capable of I'd rather just for a moment imagine that really he isn't.

I sigh and pull open the top drawer looking for a pen. I find one and doodle on the pad. The doodle begins to grow and I realise I've sketched Kabir's face. I'm amazed that I can still draw its been a long time. My drawing looks just like Kabir, but instead of coldness to his eyes there is warmth. I have drawn what I want not what is. Again I try to rub out reality.

The pen starts to run out so I hurriedly search for another. There don't seem to be any other pens. How ridiculous does he never write?

I yank open the bottom draw which is a lot stiffer and harder to open.

At last I find a pen, resting under an envelope. I shut the draw and begin to draw again. Suddenly I stop and I again open the bottom draw. The envelope is there and its creased. There is something familiar about it. Then I remember.

"Oh yes make sure he gets this." The elderly mans voice echoes from behind me. I watch as an envelope floats to the ground.

The words echo in my head. This is the envelope that I saw Kabir fold and place in his jacket. I scold myself, just because it's an envelope doesn't mean it's the envelope. It could be anything. I want to shut the draw but I can't. Curiosity teamed with boredom is a dangerous thing. I stare at it. I didn't care about the contents of the envelope then, too wrapped up in what had happened to me. But now like everything else it's different, I'm different.

I pick the envelope up and look at it. It's blank there is no writing on the outside. It's just a normal envelope like the ones I used to use in my office. There is nothing special about it, and it shouldn't matter what is in the envelope. But it does.

Slowly I peal open the already torn flap. It's open and my fingers are twitching to dive into the darkness but I cannot move them. Then an overwhelming sense of fear comes over me. Do I want to know what is in the envelope? It can't be anything bad can it, no more than a couple of scraps of paper, surely?

Really what could be in this envelope that could be so life changing, I wonder trying to convince myself.

The loud shrill of the phone startles me and I am awoken from my trance. I quickly place the envelope carefully back in its original position.

"Hello?" I speak into the phone cautiously. My eyes glance around the room. What if there are hidden cameras and I am being watched?

There is a woman's vice at the other end of the line she speaks my name softly. "Yes." I reply guardedly.

"It'Kavya, one of Mr Mittal's assistants. Are you alone?" I don't like the way she says his name. Her tongue seems to linger there a little too long as if she is distracted by his name.

"Yes."

Her voice cuts into my jealous thoughts. "I've been asked to see that you are fed and clothed. As there isn't much in the flat." I notice her words and get her meaning, there isn't much in the flat because I smashed it. My dislike for her grows even more intense.

"So just to say I'll be up in a few minutes, just thought I'd give you a warning."

The conversation ends and I put down the phone. The phone call was unnecessary; it's as if someone can see me and wanted to distract me from the envelope. But I know that Kabir would never let cameras in his private living space. He is too protective for that.

A few minutes later there is a soft knock at the door. I open the door and kavya the pretty assistant walks in. She is carrying a tray. I watch the sway of her hips as she moves to place it on the side. There is a plate of breakfast pastries and lots of exotic fruit. I can tell Kabir has told them what I like.

She smiles at me attempting to make the smile warm but there is little warmth in her eyes. She leaves the room and then returns with several items of clothing strung over her arms. She glances thoroughly around the room and then turns to me.

I pick gingerly at the fruit. I take a segment of orange and let is be crushed in my mouth and feel the soft juice swirl around my tongue.

"There is a huge charity event tonight. Kabir is to be there and he wishes you to accompany him."

It's the first I have heard of a charity event but it doesn't surprise me this normally happens social events pop up in his calendar. What surprises me is that I thought he was trying to keep a low profile. Going to a grand charity event does not seem like something that would help this.

She holds up several sparkling dresses. "I am here to help you choose a dress, once you have eaten of course. Mr Mittal has very strict orders." She says her last words as if she is talking about something else and knows something I do not know. But everyone seems to know more than me. Then I realise that before she said Kabir not Mr Mittal, I'm not aware of what this signifies but its means something.

I'm trying on a simple black dress. It is trimmed around the edges with black lace, which brushes against my bare skin. The straps are lacy and thing. The dress is tight around my waist and hips and curves with my frame stopping just above my knee.

Sarah stares back at me, her eyes glistening. "You are indeed very beautiful. Every dress seems to suit you. I cannot decide. I like this one just as much as the last. What do you think?"

"I don't know. It is nice but a little plain."

"Ah but sometimes simple is far more elegant," she murmurs. She walks towards me and goes round my back. "I'll help you out as this is quite a tight fitting one," she says as she unzips the dress.

Her fingers seem to slowly unzip the zip at the back. I feel her slender fingers brush against my skin as she pushes the straps down my shoulders. I feel her close to me; her breasts are pressing into my back. Her breath is on me. I feel the light delicate touch of her lips on my shoulders. I stand motionless not sure what is happening.

She turns me round to face her. Her eyes have softness to her, a wanting. The dress has fallen to my feet and I stand in just my underwear. She reaches across and kisses my lips. She tries to make the kiss go on for longer but I push her away as my senses snap into place.

"What the hell are you doing?" I say stopping myself from shouting the words.

There is a mocking smile on her lips. "I thought it would be fun."

"Did Kabir put you up to this? He did didn't he. I bet he's watching now the sick pervert." I glance around the room.

My gaze comes back to Kavya her face-hardens for a minute. An emotion that I don't recognise flashes through her face.

"I better be going. Choose a dress, I will see you again no doubt. I warn you though, there are things happening here that...." She doesn't finish her sentence but walks from the room and leaves me alone wondering what she would have said.

I'm in shock I didn't think Kabir was the type of man to do that. To arrange some sick lesbian fantasy with me in the middle. I have used up all my energy from the day before I have no need to smash anymore but I want to make him angry.

I glance around the room at a loss of what I can do. Then a smile forms at my lips.

I am there, back in the study the envelope in my hands, the seal again broken. I pull out some pieces of paper. They have a shiny texture like photographs. The side facing me is just plain white but I know there is something on the other side.

I could be wrong. This could be something different. But am I willing to take the risk. I quickly replace the photographs only to immediately pull them back out.

I quickly turn them round. I feel sick, there is a picture of a man, just his headshot. His eyes are gazed over and he is a deathly white. He's dead. There is a small bullet in his forehead where a bullet has pierced his skull. Scrawled in crude handwriting someone has written, "Recognise this man?"

I put the photograph down and turn my attention to the next photograph. This Photograph has a worse effect on me, it chills my heart and I want to be sick.

There is the same man, but he is smiling and looking a lot younger. On his shoulders a small, pretty girl sits with a toothless grin. She is but 6 years old. It is summer; they are standing in a garden, flowers surrounding them. It is a beautiful picture, so happy and carefree. I feel sick, I begin to wretch but nothing comes up. All I can do is stare at the photograph.

Again there is that crude handwriting below it "Recognise this girl?" I manage to control myself and look at the last photograph.

My stomach lurches but nothing happens. A woman and a man are sitting on a park bench. The man is leaning into kiss her. The man is Kabir and the woman is I. At the bottom of this photograph the same writing says, "Now you do."

Its creepy and I'm scared. I didn't need the last photograph to know that that six-year-old sitting on the dead man's shoulders was I. Nor did I need the second photograph to know that Dead man with the hole in his head was my father. My daddy. The man I loved more than any other man. I grieved a long time ago; there is no need to grieve now. I knew that when he died that it was no tragic accident. I just knew that he was murdered. There was no proof but now I have it here. I'm shocked that I was right. I don't know why maybe it's the realisation that someone would want to kill my dad. He was the most considerate and caring man I had ever known.

Why are these pictures here? Why did that man give these pictures to Kabir, they must be significant. I can't believe they mean nothing.

I realise that from that day on, when he got that envelope it changed between us. I thought then it was because he felt someone had taken his property, me. But what if there was a deeper and a darker reason.

The door slamming awakes me from my thoughts and I quickly shove the photos back in and slide the envelope back into the draw. When he enters the room I am silently clicking away at solitaire.

I don't know why I pretend that I have not seen the envelope. I can feel his eyes watching me from behind. I pretend that I don't know he's there. I can't face him now; I don't know what I would say. I'm not even sure how to react.

"I know you know I'm here," he murmurs softly.

I turn and look at him. I can't hide the pain that I'm feeling, he sees and feels it. He just stares at for what seems an age.

"I thought you weren't coming back," I manage to say but im aware of my wavering voice.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves into the next room. I follow slowly and watch him as he turns to the window and runs a hand through his hair. He turns sharply to me.

"What.... why..." He begins but he seems at a loss for words at my expression.

This is it I can let it out; I can tell I know he murdered my father. He's looking at me waiting for me to say something. A tear rolls down my cheek.

"I know-" I begin to say.