Page 154 of Twisted Sins

Her body immediately caught fire.

She felt his hands tugging and getting rid of her clothes. And soon, he pushed her on her back and thrust into her. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his hips while he drove into her with a fierce passion.

Nothing remained in her mind except for meeting her demon husband’s needs with her own.

CHAPTER 42

Mongolia…

Nakul was seated in an elaborate hotel lounge with the man he had been on a hunt for the past few months.

“What piece of mine are you interested in, Mr. Thakvar?” the man asked.

The man was a mercenary who had spent almost a decade in jail for theft in a museum. He was also an artist who resorted to spending his jail time working on some modern art, a few of which were worthy enough to be displayed in art museums across the world. The man knew Nakul was a billionaire. He thought Nakul was there to buy an art piece.

Nakul smiled. “I want to know about the modern art piece you painted while in jail, which is now displayed in a Swedish museum.”

The artist’s eyes brightened. “You have excellent taste, Mr. Thakvar. That is my best work.”

As the man started to describe the painting, Nakul recorded every word.

“It is a beautiful sculpture that I saw underwater,” the man paused, reminiscing about the memory in his mind. “It was so unique. I had never seen anything like it before. The Goddess held a pink lotus. I was so mesmerized, I just kept staring until the police who were chasing me caught up with me.”

“Where did you say you saw the sculpture?” Nakul asked.

“It was in Tibet,” the man replied. “It was a Buddhist Monastery that I was in, and I left from there, and…” yet again, his voice trailed off. “I was taken to Mongolia due to some jurisdiction, but I was in Tibet when I came across the monks.”

Nakul wanted to stand up and walk away. It was impossible for the Goddess sculpture to have traveled all that way, and nothing linked Singoor to a Buddhist monastery.

But he waited, watching the artist draw something on the white paper napkin.

“I was heading south into Tibet from Mongolia, where I had business to attend to, and I remember avoiding going toward the Potala Palace and then…” The man started drawing outlines between the dots he had placed. “This is it, he pointed out to a trapezoid shape and said, “This is where I saw the sculpture.”

Nakul picked up the napkin and saw the landmarks the artist had drawn. From the looks of it, he had isolated a two-thousand-kilometer radius area. It was a lot better than not knowing where to look.

Nakul hoped it wasn’t yet another dead end.

***

Somewhere in the Caribbean…

Rishab looked down the helicopter window as it landed on a private island.

It was yet another tiny island among the hundreds he and his team had been combing over several months.

“Does it look familiar?” Rishab asked the middle-aged man seated across from him.

“I… I’m not sure.”

Rishab was tempted to punch the man, but he controlled himself.

It wasn’t because Jaswant Saini was Gauri’s uncle. Far from it.

Rishab’s wife would have shot arrows into her uncle’s black heart the moment she found out her uncle was responsible for her parents and her first husband’s deaths. The only reason Gauri had kept her uncle alive was because of Tantra. Jaswant Saini had not only worked for Tantra but had also been to the place where Tantra lived.

Nearly twenty years ago, Jaswant Saini had spent several months on an island where Tantra trained the children kidnapped from Singoor as Kabali warriors. But the bastard claimed he had been blindfolded when he was flown to the island.

Based on the weather and description of the sand and ocean, Rishab had determined it was a private island in the Caribbean.

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