Page 2 of One Hellish Desire

“Maahi, this is my grandson, Vikram Singh Grover. Vikram, this is Maahi.”

“Cub,” I acknowledge. I called her Cub since our childhood. I’d seen qualities in Maahi that reminded me of a lion cub—small, yet full of potential and promise. Maahi being my grandmother's favorite followed her everywhere she went like her shadow. How could I forget she stayed here with Daadi? This was practically her house too ever since she became an Orphan and Daadi adopted her. Just as a cub is carefully nurtured and fiercely protected by its family, Maahi was cherished and raised with immense love by Daadi.

“Why is he here?” Maahi asks Daadi, who remains unfazed. Only Maahi had the right to speak so freely with her. But how dare she question my arrival?

“This is my house,” I growl.

“Watch your tone, Prince Pompous.”

There it is, the nickname I hate but secretly love hearing from her.

“Are you here on vacation again?” she mocks.

“Maahi? Don’t,” Daadi pleads. “Vikram, get dressed and use the backdoor unless you want the guests to see you like this.”

Maahi realizes she’s holding my shirt and moves to throw it, but I stop her.

“Wash it,” I command, heading to the backdoor. I feel her eyes burning into my back. I don’t care. No one messes with me and escapes my payback. But something tells me this cub has grown into a lioness. And I can't wait to hear her roar.

Least did I know the woman I had just messed with was going to be my undying obsession and the beginning of my heart’s delicious doom.

CHAPTER 1

MAAHI

My world is falling apart, my comfort zone shattering because he has come back. The man I remember as the most aggravating teenager has returned after nine long years. ‘Cub’ that’s what he called me those days as I was his grandmother’s shadow. I would do anything and everything she asked me to do. He envied me for the love I got from her and I envied him for everything else he had which I didn’t – loving parents, money to survive and friends to cover up his pranks.

“Daadi, why is he here?” I ask, turning to her as she instructs the servants to clear the wine from the table.

“I was just as surprised when he showed up this afternoon,” she says, a palpable joy lighting up her face, a joy that has been missing for nine years. Daadi has missed her family, and it hurts to see the pain she masks with a smile. “He's grown so tall, hasn't he? Just like Vanraj. And he even brought gifts for me,” she adds.

I can barely muster a reaction, even a fake smile feels too hard to manage.

“I used to give him gifts every time he visited in his childhood. Now, he’s brought so many gifts for me, that I haven't even had time to open them all. Once this event is over, we'll sit together and open them one by one.”

“Daadi,” I interject, “I asked why he is here. Why now? Why all of a sudden? Did you ask him?”

“Maahi,” she strokes my back gently, “he just arrived. How could I bombard him with questions? Let him rest. I'm sure he's here for something important. He'll tell me when he’s ready.”

“Right,” I sigh. “When he wants. It’s always about their happiness, their comfort. Have they ever thought about you?”

The smile fades from Daadi's face, and I silently curse myself for causing it.

“I'm sorry,” I quickly apologize. “I’m just shocked to see him here after nine years. This might be a holiday for him, but I’m not prepared to see you hurt again when he leaves.”

After a long silence, Daadi finally speaks. “Let’s go inside. The guests are waiting. We have to start the ritual. We can discuss this later.”

I don’t argue. Daadi has been preparing for this ritual for weeks. It is important to her because, on a similar auspicious day, she had met Daadu. She wants spinster girls like me to find our perfect match and lead a life full of love and prosperity, just like her. I don’t want to spoil this event for her. I follow her back into the palace. There are almost forty girls like me, dressed in colorful lehenga cholis, circling the sacred fire lit in the Havan Kund, at the center of the living room where the priest is performing the ritual.

Suddenly, I feel a prickling on my skin. This hasn’t happened in the past nine years, and I don’t need to guess why it is happening now. He is watching me from somewhere in the palace. Why am I still holding his wine-stained, crisp white shirt? I am about to throw it away when I meet his gaze. He is on the top floor, leaning against the railing of the lobby, staring at me. Despite the distance, I can see his brows lift in surprise at my near-action of tossing his expensive shirt. I shouldn’t do it, not when he could easily catch me in the act. So, I call a servant and handed over the shirt for laundry, instructing him to get it done as soon as possible. When I look back at him, Vikram grins. There is something in that grin I can’t decipher. It is different now. He never used to try to communicate with me in the past; it was just his dark gazes that would pin me down whenever he was around.

“Maahi,” my friend Preet reaches me, dragging me back. “What are you doing here? Come on, the puja has begun. I can't wait for this ritual to be over so the gods and goddesses can shower their blessings on us.”

“Why don’t you come straight to the point?” I ask. “You want them to bless you with a perfect partner soon.”

“That's true. I'm desperate to marry. I’m already twenty-five.”

I sit before the holy fire with Preet and the other girls. Daadi is seated on a couch a little way off, watching the ritual. I can still feel the prickling on my skin. Does he still have his eyes on me?

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