My heart rushes. Think of anything, my mind screams. Anything, I can make something up. This confrontation isn't meant to happen now. Not now, please. I plead with myself. Then its here.

"I saw what was in the envelope." I can't believe that I just came out and said it.

It takes a while for him to realise what I am talking about.

He continues to run his hand through his hair. He seems tired and too wearied to keep up his normal dark self.

"I don't understand." I say meekly aware that I sound and look like a lost child.

There is a stiff awkwardness between us that has never been there before.

He says nothing.

"Did you kill my father?" A deathly pause circles the air. I fix my eyes on him for a few seconds. My eyes move, I can't look at him. I can't stand my betrayal. I move to the window and glance out over the compound not taking in any of the surroundings.

"I mean I knew that he died while working for you, but did you murder him? Did you pull the trigger of the gun that killed him?" I say weakly too tired to be angry.

He moves towards me. "I didn't know he was your father. I only realised when I saw the pictures, otherwise I would never have chased you...." He trails off.

"But you would have still killed him?" I still can't face him. I feel defeated.

"There are things you don't know...the circumstances." He almost seems remorseful. But he's never sorry. He's a bastard. That anger is coming back again. I hate him.

"And that gives you an excuse to kill him? Even if he wasn't my father he would have been someone else's. Why do you kill? Do you kill because you get some sick pleasure out of it? Or is it to show the world just how powerful and mighty Kabir Mittal is?" My words come quick and fast and I'm not really sure what I am saying.

"I kill because I have to. It's who I am. You've always known that." He's moving closer to me. I push his arms away. I don't want his touch. I don't want him. I hate him. I know my mind is lying, denying what I'm feeling but I can't accept what I feel for this murderer.

"Damn you, you don't have to kill. I wish you were dead I wish that I had never met you. Damn, damn you! You take everything from me. You bring me here as your toy, that's why I'm here isn't? You take pleasure in bedding the daughter of the man who YOU killed" And you know what's worse is that I still Love you, I want to scream but I don't. I move away from him, I want him to leave me alone.

"No, it's not. I would have still wanted you. You were one of the most beautiful women I had seen and I wanted you. I wanted you more because I couldn't have you. But you are not here for me to bed."

"Oh really? So what was last night then? Ki" I search him, wanting him to give me something, anything.

"Last night was a mistake." His words are meant to puncture me, but I'm too caught up to notice.

"Your damn right it was, like the time before that and the time before that, all of them," I'm screaming now, wanting a reaction, a change, anything.

"Why do you think that when I found out who you were that I didn't sleep with you? I tried my damn hardest but you were always here, waiting as if you fucking expected it."

"Oh so it's my fault now? I didn't choose to be here. You brought me here. It was YOU. It's always you, never me. Well you've had your personal satisfaction now. That's all it is with you fucking sex. Reach your climax. Fulfil your pleasure. You use me, you abuse me and you expect me to act like some sycophant."

"I know.... but you have to be here." He's not looking at me, he's avoiding me. I wonder is he human? Is this his human side?

"Why? Kabir why do I have to be here?" I'm searching again.

"I can't tell you that." He doesn't seem like the Kabir I'm used to. This man is worn down and –well almost ordinary.

"You never tell me a fucking thing Kabir. Never," I hiss at him. I feel a strange sense of control over him, but then its gone. It's like a flick has been turned on inside him and he's back to his usual self. He stands straight.

"Don't be so childish. You know what I am. You had a choice to walk out from the beginning you could have said no. I killed a man, so what if he happened to be your father? I don't give a damn frankly there are bigger things happening now. If you knew your father."

I know this isn't him talking, this is just his mask but he makes me so angry. That I scream at him.

He grabs me and his hands dig into my arms. "That was in the past. Get over it." Then he slaps me across the face. I'm stunned; he has never hit me before. Then im crumpling, tears are running down my face. He pulls me to him and I sob hysterically into his chest. His hand runs through my hair.

I feel like a traitor, but he is the only one that would ever be able to give me comfort yet he killed the other man that would have been able too. I'm so confused and I hate myself for loving him. I really do.

Through my sobbing I think I almost hear him say "I'm sorry" but I'm not certain. Even if he is sorry, what is he sorry for?

For hitting me? For my father? For what he's done to me?

He holds me like that until my tears dry and I am numb.

After that first time in townwe didn't see each other for a while. I figured that he had had his fun with me, and his hunger had disappeared. A couple of months later he turned up at my apartment. I didn't think I was his yet then, but I was I had been since the moment our eyes had fist locked. Dhruv had moved out already only a few of his things were left. There was a pain inside me still then when I remembered Dhruv; I missed his friendship and his love. He loved me selflessly and I wished that I could have loved him, but Kabir had proved to me that I had never really loved Dhruv.

He stood casually at my door, his clothes a poor reflection of his wealth. My stomach dropped when my eyes met his dark ones. I didn't want to see him, but I did. I had dreaded this meeting but in some twisted way longed for it.

His mouth curved and spoke softly sending shivers through my spine, "How are you?"

I couldn't answer too many confliction emotions were running through my brain. I was pitifully weak but not like now.

"Go away," I said defiantly. How naïve I was to think I could stand up to him.

That night he took to an Ice Hockey match. I can't remember who was playing. We didn't sit in one of the boxes where those who can afford them do, but we sat with the normal people. To them we must have seemed like an ordinary couple at the beginning or a relationship. We were not.

The atmosphere was vibrant and exuberant. The crowd were cheering so loudly that you couldn't help but join in.

We Will Rock You played in the background and the crowd thumped along to the beat. I wasn't oblivious to his arm around my waist, or the times when his eyes were watching me. I tried to ignore him and focus on the game, but the game is a blur.

The match ended and my adrenaline was pumping, I had never seen an ice hockey match before. The swiftness and violence of the players had amazed me.

In the car back, my heart was beating. It had been one of the best dates I had ever been on, but I would never let him know that.

His hand rested on my knee but I didn't move it, my body and mind were still pumping from the energy of the game.

We arrived at his house that night. I marvelled at its splendour but I refused to tell him that. He knew I was thinking it anyway. He opened a bottle of champagne and I sipped the deliciously sweet golden drink.

Then his arms were around me and he was kissing me. I resisted at first but I knew it was futile. We were in his bedroom and he was undressing me. He was murmuring sweet meaningless words in my ears. His body was more magnificent than I remembered. He was desperate clinging to me savouring every taste of my skin. I lay passively telling him that I was only an object to him and would always only be that.

When I awoke, the light was sifting through the curtains. He was watching me.

"Don't think I enjoyed that. Your pathetic." I turned my head as he tried to kiss my lips.

He had laughed. "I know you better than you think."

"I despise you," I had murmured trying to move from his bed.

"So you say, but last night you showed little signs of it," he grabbed my wrist and held me tightly so I couldn't move.

"We work by my terms. You leave when I say so."

"I'm not just a piece of meat that you pick up and cast away when you want," I spat at him.

"The more you fight me, the more I want you," he lips touched mine and I pushed him away.

"Leave me alone," I shouted at him. I struggled to move but he wouldn't let me and I ashamedly didn't want him to.

"It's too late for that."

He hand left a bruise on my wrist that day, like his red handprint on my face now.

I push him away and watch his dead eyes. "Why won't you just let me be?"

He seems to have no answer to my words instead he stands and leaves the room. My heart stabs painfully at me. I want to crawl after him yet I want to make him pay. I'm so lost, so defeated. I crumple in on myself and wish that there were some escape.

Anything

In stories the weather often seems to foretell the ending or a dramatic segment. I'm gazing out of the window across the compound the rain is lashing against the window and the sky is so dark although its only early afternoon. The clouds are almost dark and menacing but the rain does not scare me. It always rains in here. There are those few glimmers of light when you realise just how beautiful the countryside is, but when the rain comes it is forgotten.

I suppose I am like a princess in one of those old fairy tales, trapped in a tower by the villain of the story. Pathetically waiting for my prince in his shining armour to rescue me, but there is no prince and this is not a fairytale.

I sigh.

I am bored. I haven't seen Kabir for a few days. Maybe he's doing the only decent thing ever and giving me space, or maybe I went to far and that's it between us, whatever us is. I guess we have a weird warped relationship I suppose one could joke that the man I love killed the man I loved. Oh the irony. I don't find this so funny more painful.

I wonder if my life will ever be normal and whether I do really want a normal life. My attention fixes on the pelting raindrops outside again. I just want to run out into the rain without a care, feel the water slide down my body sticking my clothes to me, wiping the dirt that I feel from me.

There is a small knock at the door and one of Kabir's many minions peers round the door. "Mr Mittal is ready for you."

I nod my head and watch the figures head retreat behind the door. One last glance in the mirror, one last smooth of my dress. The dark red dress clings to my waist and flows below my hips twirling around my ankles. My hair is fixed up in an almost elaborate bun a few strands deliberately wave and dangle around my face. One last pinch of my cheeks and a flutter of my eyelids. I look good, but there is a certain melancholy to my expression that a smile cannot totally mask ever.

I should not care what he thinks, but I do. I should hate him and I'm sure I will. My feelings don't seem to be as strong as they once were. Maybe absence of the heart doesn't make you fonder, I like to think.

I'm passing along the hallway taking a small pleasure in my floaty dress brushing against my legs. I'm nervous, a little scared and almost if I pushed hard enough is that excitement? No, I cannot be excited about seeing him again. It would be wrong if I denied that part of me in a strange way missed him. How I can miss a man I never really had or will have I am uncertain.

Time seems to slow like in the movies and I can't seem to make it to the next door, something is holding me back and I'm not certain what it is.

Dread? Perhaps.

Love? Probably

Hate? Maybe

Nothing seems to be certain anymore not that I am sure it ever was.

Then there he is. His back is to me like in those classic movie cliché moments. I'm waiting for him to turn around and to stop, take in my beauty as if he had forgotten it and sweep me into his arms.

No such luck here. I here his deep soft voice, his arm raised holding his phone to his ear.

"It's not good enough. Tomorrow. The shipment must go tomorrow."

No doubt he is trafficking something illegal. Probably drugs. My eyes fix on his broad back and I can almost see his rippling muscles underneath the silk shot suit. I almost want to touch him to kiss his neck delicately to hold him. I want to imagine his eyes staring softly at me, wanting me, having me. My mind spins off into what could be but alas what will not be.

Overactive imagination they called it at school. My mind was always off somewhere else, being someone else. Not much has changed really. Maybe the reason why I am still here is because I want to believe there will be a happy ending.

His body shifts slightly and I avert my eyes to the window. The soft glow of the lights creates a warm cosy feel to the room. This is ironic because below this mask the room is hard and cold. The rain continues to run down the pane in streams. Each drop makes its own way, its own journey where it wells at the windowsill and they all merge into one. I see Kabir glance indifferently at me through his reflection in the window. He continues to talk on the phone and I wonder if he really notices me.

There is no moment where our eyes meet and a connection begins or fireworks erupt in my stomach but I feel the hapless flutters of butterflies in my stomach.

I notice a glass has been rested on the table beside me of that luxurious bubbly champagne. I seat myself away from him and sip consciously at the champagne and savour the taste as it rolls down my throat and fizzes at the back of my throat.

The conversation on the phone finishes and I hear the slap of his shutting phone. His feet stand before me and I look down at his immaculately polished shoes, if I squinted hard enough I'm sure I could see my reflection there.

I raise my eyes slowly and watch as he stares out of the window behind me tracing the raindrops with his eyes like me only moments earlier.

"Are you ready?" His words seem forced and flow unevenly from his mouth. He doesn't bother to look at me and to my shame I mind this. I look up and trace the familiar yet unfamiliar features of his face. He should seem grotesque to me but he does not he seems as handsome as ever. He holds his hand out and I lightly touch it as he gently pulls me up.

"I am ready. It's you who I have been waiting for." I find my voice and gently speak but he doesn't miss the heavy undertone in my voice.

His mouth curves but he still refuses to look at me. "Cut the attitude, sweetheart. Tonight you have to act the part of my dutiful woman. Do that thing you do well. Smile, flutter your eyelashes and charm these men. It's important. Or else...." His voice floats off and I cannot help but smile at his words he sounds so cliché it makes me sick.

"Or what?" I raise my eyebrow mockingly threatening him to look at me. His eyes flicker onto mine and chill something in me.

"Or else." His eyes are cool and I can almost feel their breeze flutter over me. He scares me and I release my gaze and move over to the mirror with the pretence of adjusting my appearance. He brings me out a coat and helps me into it. As he helps me his fingers brush against my skin sending shivers through me. Whether this is deliberate or accidental I am unable to tell. My eyes watch him as he avoids mine and I see his eyes appraising my dress. I am waiting for the customary compliment that he normally reels off but I am kept waiting.

He releases me and walks to the door and out of it.

We step into the black limousine waiting outside the building. One of his minions holds an umbrella out as I make the short walk to the limousine. I feel for a flicker like Cinderella when she is going to ball. Maybe tonight I will meet my prince charming. We will dance all night but I will have to leave but in the end we will be together.

It is spacious so that we are not sitting too close to each other. An uncomfortable silence ensues as I let my thoughts wander. I wonder what he is thinking and why he barely acknowledges my presence.

We are going to some big charity event that terrifies me as I wonder if I can hold my mask up for long enough but at the same time it means that I will not be around him all night.

It is not a long journey there and when we arrive I am taken in by the grandeur and elegance of the place. It is one of those huge country houses that often appear in period films. It is almost like something out of a fairytale. It is beautiful. Beautiful people step out of their chauffeur driven cars and up the immense steps.

Spectacular lights and marble flooring fill the entrance. I barely notice my arm entwined in Kabir's. Our coats are taken and the women's beautiful dresses are revealed, as are their eyes as they gaze lustfully over Kabir's impressive figure.

We walk through to the ballroom and I am even more dazzled by the grandeur. Several huge glass chandeliers fill the ceilings of the high room sparkling and twinkling dripping in wealth. The grand band is playing softly in the background as people converse and throw their heads back in laughter in small groups.

Many people suddenly surround us and I smile my most dazzling smile, gently stroking Kabir's arm as a dutiful partner would. I reply and enquire politely to people's questions. Yes, I do think the place looks stunning, and No I had not heard that the manor originated back to the 1700s and yes tonight will be great if we raise lots of money.

My smile begins to hurt but I do not crack. I am released from Kabir and make my way to a group of ladies that are familiar to me. I have met them before at other social events like these.

The music has grown in noise and the band play beautifully. A deep voice meets my ear gently. "Would you like to dance?"

I turn and find a good-looking man admiring me. I know I should refuse but I feel rebellious and agree. I hear the small mutters of surprise from the group of women I leave as the man takes me to the floor. He places his arm on my waist and I wrap mine around his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I don't know your name." I find myself saying. I glance to Kabir's direction but his back is to me. I feel the pangs of disappointment, as he has not noticed that I am dancing with another man.

"Ritwik khurana." The voice says good humouredly, "and yours?"

I tell him my name and there is a pause of uncertainty. Do you are from this city???

"Really? Wow I guess you learn something new everyday." He mocks me, the twinkle in his eye now bolder. I laugh at his mocking of me.

"I was just creating conversation."

"Right then, yes I am born and Bred in here." We fall into silence and let our feet do the talking. I continue to glance at Kabir but still he has not noticed. I should not be thinking of Kabir but of the kind man who holds me in my arms. I should notice that this could be my Prince Charming.

"You are a very beautiful woman," he murmurs into my ear. I smile in reply and lower my head. I feel disappointment in this man that he tells me this. Then I realise that I don't want my Prince Charming.

Then Kabir has appeared and taps Ritwik on the shoulder. "I believe this is my dance." The band strikes up a softer number. Ritwik looks at me, willing me to continue dancing with him but I simply smile and Kabir replaces Ritwik.

"Who was that?" Kabir asks calmly his eyes resting above my head.

I shrug my shoulders. "Don't dance with him again." My eyes react to his command.

"Sorry? And why would that be?"

His grip tightens on me. "For once don't ask, just listen and do as I say."

"You have o control everything don't you?" I hiss at him.

"Yes," he replies. I don't know what I expected him to say but his answer silences me for a few seconds. The anger in my stomach begins to fizzle.

"You know I really hate you," I whisper coolly.

He glances down at me with a stern expression, "Yes." Before he swoops down and plants a kiss on my lips before shooting back to his upright position.

I am left breathless and speechless. I want to say something to hurt him but nothing comes I just glare ahead of me over his shoulder and concentrate on preventing myself from shaking in anger.

"Maybe I will Dance with Ritwik again."

I release myself from his hold and move away. Instead of making my way towards the tall guy I head for the hallway outside. I keep walking. The ushers glance at me curiously as I my walk grows in pace.

Then I am out and the cold rain hits me fast and hard soaking me instantly. My hair falls and stacks to my neck, my dress is ruined and clings to my body. The rain continues to fall as I continue to walk. My heels sink into the wet front lawn. I glance behind me and feel self-pity that he has not followed me. I just want to run.

I loathe him. I do. I swear I do. I never want to see him again. I want the rain to shelter me to guide me somewhere else.

I know this is not the truth and I realise with shattering my bubble that I don't want to be rescued and that maybe I am glad this is no fairytale. That really where I wanted to be all along was in his arms. I can barely see the rain is so heavy and I feel my body crumple to the ground. I glance back and can just make out the lights of the manor. How long have I been walking?

I just want to fall asleep forever like Sleeping Beauty. I know he will find me. Won't he?

He is after all the beast and me the beauty. My eyes close and my body tremors from the cold. I am soaked and I wait for my Prince.

But this is no fairytale. Maybe he won't come. Really.

Everything is quiet. Am I dead? Have I died? If this is death, I'm not sure what to believe. There is nothing, stillness it is not peaceful but it is not horrible. I've often wondered what death would be like. Have I found the answer? It is nothing. There is nowhere or no one, I am alone. Stuck in this place of never-ending darkness. I feel nothing, I see nothing, and I touch nothing. I am not afraid and I neither am worried. I am not happy. Maybe to have happiness you have to experience all other things. My mind fills with nothing but the black of everything. I try to remember yesterday but it dissolves before I can reach it.

I am aware now of a dull thud in my head, it beats slowly and another thud co-exists with it in my chest. I feel the blackness dissolve and suddenly there is light. A bright white light filling my senses coursing over me. I feel my body start to tremble. Then the light fades a little and I can make out blurs. I feel my eyes slowly peel open. The atmosphere is dull and quiet. I am not dead; the thudding is simply my heart against my chest. The light is my surroundings and the trembling is my ill body's reaction.

I am lying on my back and as my eyes focus I can make out the white of a ceiling above me. A light hangs from it illuminating the room. I hear a small beep that is in time with my heart. I try to lift my arm but it aches. I lift my head, and thudding gets worse; I grimace at the dull pain. I gradually pull myself upwards and rest my head against the pillow beyond my head. My eyes run over the sterile objects in the room. The white carnations sit in a glass vase on the table beside my bed. On the other side a machine beeps and numbers appear. The tubes reach round and curl around my body. A drip is attached to me through the vein in my hand. I look in front of me, there is a window and a door that must lead out into a hallway. The shutters on the window are pulled down, the grated edges pointing towards me. I try to speak but there is something in my throat. The room reminds me of a hospital, but there is something too sterile too nice about the room. Where am I?

I feel my eyes start to tire my eyelids fight to close, and my body slumps. I don't want to go to sleep, but I can't control my body as I slip off into nowhere again.

My eyes flicker open again, the room is darker now. I find it easier to pull myself up. There is no longer a tube in my throat and the drip on my hand has been removed. My mouth is dry and I see a glass or water next to me. I gently clasp the grasp and hold it to my mouth, and gulp the water down.

I am so confused; I don't remember why I am here. The last I remember is being very wet. But why?

I pull my legs around and sit on the bed my feet touching the cold ground. I push my feet down and pull myself up clinging to the side table. When did I last walk? My les are so weak. It takes me a while to get my balance right. I am wearing a long white gown; I spot a dressing gown on the nearby chair. I slowly pull it on. Why is my body so weak?

I make it to the door and turn the handle. The hallway is white I take a right and make my way down it until I come to another door. I enter another hallway but this is different from the previous, it is wood. I feel as if I am in a house. My feet make their way slowly along the corridor turning with it until it spreads out onto a large staircase. At the bottom of the wide staircase there is what looks like a lobby and the main entrance to this place. Two men stand talking at the bottom but I can not make out their words. I do not recognise them.

One of the men's heads turns round and he smiles up at me. He says a name. Yes, that's my name I remember now. I recognise this man, why do I recognise him? Who is he? He leaves the other man and makes his way up to me. "I see your awake and walking now. We were worried about you, didn't know if you would come through."

My face must show my confusion because he looks at me and realisation spreads over his face. "Oh you must be confused."

I not my head, "Who are you?" My voice is hoarse and cracked.

"My name is Om. We found you. I don't know if you remember your last movements?" I struggle to remember. Then it hits me, the rain lashing down on me, running over the sodden lawn, the mud flicking onto my legs. Feeling wearied, lying down on the grass, waiting. The darkness seeping into my mind.

"Yes.... how long have I been here?" I murmur still unsure of what exactly has happened. I glance at him and try to remember why I know him.

"Two weeks." He states, watching for my reactions.

"Two weeks?" I reply in surprise.

"Yes, you were lucky your pneumonia, was not at its worse. You've been going in and out of consciousness for a while. Do you know who I am?"

"Yes...well no. I recognise you. Where am I?" I am so confused I can not make sense of anything. Pneumonia? Two weeks?

"We met a while ago. I work for MI6." My legs feel weak, I don't know if I can stand any longer. Om gives me support and says he will take me back to my room where we can talk.

"Om Oberoi?" I question. The memory comes flooding back he is the agent from the service station.

"Yes, you remember now. In answer to your question earlier, you are currently in one of our base."

"what is happening?"

"I wondered how long till Mr Mittal's name would be brought up. He does not know of your whereabouts. Two weeks ago you were at a charity event with him, right?" I nod my head and he continues, "you ran out, we had undercover agents who were there, they watched you. You were followed and found lying on the lawn, drenched and you had passed out. We brought you to our nearest base so that you could recover. Mr Mittal believes that his enemies have kidnapped you. When you are ready we will tell you more, but right now you need to rest."

I want to protest but the weariness creeps into my body and tugs at my eyelids. I close my eyes and nod my head before falling into a sleep.

It has been a few of days since I awoke properly. Om Oberoi has come to visit me often. He even took me for a walk around the grounds yesterday. This place has a surreal quality as if I am not in the real world. I feel the cameras that cover every inch of this place watching me. I see the subtle guards planted here and now. This place is secluded and I often see people running back and forward. According to Om this is a training facility, it was the nearest safe house they could take me to. I feel as if for the first time in a while I have a friend. That statement sounds so childlike but it is the truth. As long as Kabir is in my life I feel that he will my sole purpose.

I am dressed in a pair of jeans and a grey cotton v-neck jumper when Om arrives. "You look much better today," I smile as he speaks, "it is however about time things started moving along." I nod my head and follow him. We come to a room, where Om knocks on the door and shortly after we go through with the reassurance of the woman sitting at the desk outside. The room resembles that of a large office. There is a grand wooden desk at the back, but in front of us is a blue sofa and a large blue sofa-chair.

A woman sits behind the desk; she gently puts the phone down from her ear. "Ah, you are here." She smiles. "Hello, my name is Riya Basu. I am head of operations here concerning the movements of Kabir Mittal and his corporation."

I nod my head, and watch the immaculately dressed woman in her black trouser suit indicates that we should sit down. She looks as if she is in her mid-forties; her hair is pulled back in an unattractive manner. "A few weeks ago, we came into contact with you after the initial first contact. You were staying at The xyz Hotel?"

I nod my head. I remember that day; I remember the torment in my head the fear that he might know that I had lied to him.

"We have written record of that first conversation," she hands over a sheet of paper, which I glance over. "As stated in the conversation you said you needed more time. Half an hour later we called back, here is the transcript from that conversation."

I glance at it and read the words.

15.35.23: Recipient Hello?

Have you reached your decision?

15.35.57: Recipient Alright...(pause) I'll do it.

We will be in contact with you soon.

It's strange that I decided to betray him then even before I knew of his connection with my father's death. I glance up Om and Riya is watching me intently.

"Yes?"

"You haven't changed your mind? There is still time to back out, but once we go further than this there is no going back." I close my eyes for a second in the pretence that I am thinking things through. Really nothing is going through my mind it is blank. Over the past few days my thoughts have focused little on Kabir, I would be lying to say that I had not thought about him. I cannot eradicate something that has been so ingrained in my being with the flick of a switch. But being here, especially with Om to distract me has helped. It is as if this place is my rehab, to get rid of my addiction to Kabir.

"No, I still want to help. But why has it taken you so long?"

Riya crosses her legs and glances at Om. "We did not expect him to take you into the centre of his corporation. It is nearly impossible to get any of our agents in there. We have had several...failed attempts. The charity ball seemed the perfect occasion."

I nod my head.

"You will need to be properly briefed. Though you must realise that you will have to act like normal, and make Mr Mittal believe that you were taken hostage by one of his many enemies. It won't be an easy task."

"I know," I whisper quietly. The shrill ring of a phone interrupts our conversation.

"I have some other business to attend to, I'm sorry this has been cut short. Tomorrow we will discuss this in further detail. Oberoi show our guest out please."

Om leads me out of the room. "Do you want to go somewhere private to talk?" I nod my head slowly.

Om takes me to a secluded part of the garden outside. The cool breeze flutters against my skin and the sun shines above us. He sits next to me and I can feel his eyes bearing into me, waiting for my reaction. I gaze ahead not really looking nor thinking.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

I turn my head and look into his light brown eyes. "I think so.... yes I do. It's not easy giving in the man you love.... but I can't carry on with this."

I feel his hand grip mine reassuringly and I smile a little. I let him kiss me. I feel the warmth of his lips on mine. The kiss is soft and sweet, its not demanding like the ones I am used to. He reminds me of Dhruv. He pulls away.

"I should not have done that. I'm getting too emotionally involved, against protocol. But ever since I first saw you, you looked so vulnerable." He wants to protect me. He thinks he can whisk me away and make me happy.

He kisses me again and I let him. I am not sure if I am enjoying it. It's different. I can't help but compare him to Kabir's feisty lusty fulfilling kisses. Om's hand comes to my face, his thumb caressing my cheekbone.

"I want you to be happy." I glance at him and wonder what he sees in me. Is it my looks or is it the illusion that I need protecting?

I smile at him and lower my head to avoid his intense gaze.

"You are so beautiful...are you sure you want to go ahead with this."

I don't answer this time. I know Om could be my Prince. He could whisk me away. We could live happily in a nice house, and have nice kids.

But how come as this nice life floats before my eyes he interrupts it. My desire for him suddenly builds. Him, not Om, Kabir.

No, no no. I don't want Kabir. I don't. I don't love him. No maybe Om. Yes Om is whom I want. Kabir he is gone from my mind. He has to be. Go away. Go.

I kiss Om.