Beneath The Lies

by Sapna Bhog

  We step outside the doors and dozens of cameras flash in my face.

  Damn the bloody paparazzi! They just won’t leave me alone.

  Aaliya

  My heartbeat accelerates as Damien rises. This is it! I have to confront him now and tell him about us. I stand as well and gather my purse. Damien walks a step forward and turns with a puzzled frown when he finds Celia still seated. She removes a compact from her purse and powders her nose. Then she applies a fresh coat of lipstick on her already painted lips. God! I wish I could strangle her right now for putting on this unnecessary display. I’ve never been prone to violence, but this one woman brings out the worst in me.

  Damien is watching her with crossed arms, his right foot tapping in front of him. He gives her a pointed look and Celia smiles coyly. She finally stands and wraps her hand around his arm. She’s as tall as he is, with the same skin coloring and they both have that aura of wealth and power around them. Damn! They do look spectacular together. Ignoring the sharp pang in my chest, I wrap my jacket and shawl around myself before following them out.

  Pushing open the café doors, I walk into a huge crowd gathered outside with Damien at the center. Hordes of reporters surround him, their cameras busily clicking and the sound of their footsteps echoing as they follow him. His arm is around Celia, shielding her from everything. Raised voices continue to ask him questions, to which he doesn’t reply. A man in a suit clears the way forward for Damien and Celia as the questions still fly from all directions.

  Your Grace, why are you still a mystery?

  Why are you refusing to speak to the press?

  Did you meet with an accident?

  Tell us about your memory loss.

  How soon do you think you will get your memory back?

  My nostrils flare and my skin tightens in rage as I see the media pursue him. Hell! Why can’t they leave him alone? These people have no humanity at all. Already in the last week since I’ve arrived in London, his picture has appeared twice in the papers with articles speculating about him. And now they’re shooting questions at him like bullets out of a gun. Every part of me aches for him.

  Damien suddenly turns towards the crowd, inspecting them. Celia whispers a few words in his ear, but he shakes his head and takes another step forward, keeping her behind him. The man in the suit, who is escorting him, takes a protective step by his side, his eyes alert. Shit! He has a bodyguard.

  Just when that thought settles in my head, Damien starts to speak. “I’m going to do this once and never again, and after this I request you all to leave me be. Yes, I did meet with an accident two months ago and yes, I have suffered memory loss. As of now, I have no replies for any of your questions simply because I don’t know the answers. I don’t remember. I’m trying my best to deal with this and hence I request your support through this phase. If and when my memory returns, I promise you all that you will be the first to know and we can have a conference then. Thank you.”

  Lady Celia what do you feel about His Grace’s return? A reporter asks.

  Celia smiles as she takes a step closer to Damien, grasping his arm once again. “I’m thrilled that Damien is back and ever so grateful that he survived that horrible accident. He’s been blessed with a second chance at life and I’m going to be with him every step of the way to help him get through this most challenging time.”

  Damien’s forehead mars into a frown, but he doesn’t say anything.

  The reporters are persistent. So, can we assume that there is something more going on between the two of you?

  “No comment,” Celia replies but I see a cat-like smile appear on her face.

  Bitch! She has smartly led the media to speculate about them now. My hands clench tightly, my nails carving indents in my palms. I’d do anything to remove her from his side and tell her and the world that he is mine. But I can’t, not until I’ve confronted him and I’m going to do that right now.

  Damien ushers her away from the crowd. A few reporters follow but most of them seem to be satisfied because they disperse. Damien’s bodyguard once again leads the way for Damien and Celia.

  The leaves crunch beneath my feet as I walk in swift steps behind them. I’m almost upon him. My heart leaps; this is the moment I’ve waited for. I lift my hand to touch Damien but my hand catches air as suddenly I’m lifted and turned around.

  “What the hell, Gabe?” I yell at him as he puts me down in the direction opposite from Damien. I try to shrug out of his hold, but his hands on my arms are locked tight.

  “Didn’t I ask you to keep away from him just a little longer?” he whispers through clenched teeth.

  “Don’t interfere, Gabe. Just leave me alone,” I snarl. But his hands on my arms tighten even more. I twist my head to look for Damien. He is talking to Celia in front of a car. I turn to Gabe. “I have to talk to him. I have to tell him about me.”

  “Encountering him in public is not the way to do it and definitely not in front of Celia. Trust me, Aaliya. If you walk up to him and tell him that you’re his wife, he’ll laugh in your face.”

  He releases his hold on me, and my shoulders slump in defeat as I turn my head towards Damien. Even from this distance I can sense the familiarity between him and Celia. His head inclines towards her and she kisses his cheek. My head hurts watching them interact.

  “She’s after him, Gabe,” I finally say. “I know it. He’s my husband and I can’t even claim him.”

  Gabe turns me to face him. “Not yet. But soon.”

  My eyelids are hot and heavy, but I hold the tears off. I have to be strong. I repeat that like a mantra in my head until I am certain I won’t break down.

  I sniff. “How did you even know I was here in London?”

  “I knew the minute you instructed the staff at the Indian office to buy a ticket for you to London. I know you arrived here a week back.” He lets out a harsh breath. “The only reason you got within touching distance of him was because I had already emailed your picture to his bodyguard. He recognized you at the coffee shop and called me. I told him to let you be until I reached.”

  “So, you deliberately played me today? You knew he was meeting Celia and yet you told me that he was meeting you. That was plain cruel, Gabe.”

  “No! That is the reality, Aaliya.” He sighs. “Damien thinks he’s single, unmarried. Celia’s just one of the several women waiting to sink their claws into him. Overnight, he has become the most eligible bachelor in England.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you saying that he’s…that he’s…” I gulp unable to complete the sentence. “Is he seeing other women?”

  “Not that I know of. But it’s entirely possible and that’s why I didn’t want you to come here until he showed some signs of remembering his past. I didn’t want you to get hurt in anyway.”

  “How much longer should I have waited, Gabe? Until he falls in love with someone else, huh? Until he begins to accept that this is his reality? I am his wife; we have a son and he needs to know it.”

  Gabe’s silence and reluctance in supporting me is becoming more and more suspicious. I don’t know what to do. I shove my hair away from my face and turn to Damien who is watching Celia’s car drive away.

  The tall, huge, pale-skinned man is standing by his side, mutely surveying their surroundings and my mind latches on to a pertinent detail. Bodyguard!

  “What is going on?” I ask Gabe. “Why does Damien need security? Is he in danger?” I’m yelling now, my voice gaining a decibel with each word coming out of my mouth.

  “Aaliya, calm down. Your husband’s a powerful man now. His safety needs to be assured at all times.”

  I want to scream and hit something, anything. I had this all planned in my mind. I was going to confront Damien outright, but Gabe hasn’t allowed me to do that. I need him to help me; I will beg if I have to. Just as I raise my head to ask him that, I hear a voice behind me.

  “Gabe,” Damien says. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”


  The familiar rumble of his voice hits my chest, bang in the center. His accent is richer now, thicker. As if in the two months that he has been here, he has regained the polish of the accent that had slightly faded in the last five years. I shut my eyes. I’ve missed him. How have I survived all these days without him? And now he’s right behind me. I just have to turn and I’ll be face to face with him. My throat dries up and feels scratchy as I swallow. Gabe gives me a worried look. He smoothens his expression and looks at Damien.

  “Hey mate!” Gabe says, recovering faster than me. “I’m just meeting an old friend.” He nods to me. My heart constricts in my chest as I slowly turn around, and finally come face to face with my husband.

  Damien gives me a fleeting look before his eyes meet Gabe’s and then his grey green eyes zero in on me once again, taking me in. His gaze is no longer warm; instead it’s hard, glacial, like a frozen iceberg. My hand clutches the strap of my purse so tight, the leather cuts into my skin even as my brain scrambles to understand his reaction. Does he remember me? Is he going to get a seizure on seeing me again? What is he thinking?

  A cold, mocking smile curves across his lips as he boldly assesses me from top to toe before extending his hand towards me. “Damien Talbot,” he says.

  I freeze, my blood chilling as I stare at his extended hand. In that split second two things occur to me-one, he didn’t scream on seeing me, which was my biggest fear, and two, which is worse, he doesn’t remember me at all!

  Damien

  The woman with Gabe has a face and a body that would make any red-blooded man stop in his tracks. She is…exotic, Indian I presume from her ebony black flowing hair, slightly warm skin tone and her dark, Kohl rimmed, doe-shaped eyes. My eyes rake her from head to toe and, for the first time in months, a spark of interest kindles inside me. Her blue denims hug her slim legs like second skin. They’re tucked into calf-length black boots. The grey leather jacket worn over a simple white tee shirt doesn’t hide her bounteous breasts. She has a shawl knotted around her neck. It’s a striking red silk, Louis Vuitton, the LV delicately embossed around it, simple and yet so classy. Who is she and what is her connection to Gabe?

  I extend my hand out to her and introduce myself. Her eyes flitter from my face to my hand and back to my face. Gabe nudges her and she takes my hand. A zing of electricity goes through me as our hands touch. I hear her hitched breath and my eyes lock on her dark orbs. She immediately withdraws her hand.

  “Sorry, static.” She gives me a shy smile, before pinning her dark gaze to mine.

  “Is that right?”

  I rake her entire form once again and smile to myself thinking that her head would barely reach my chin. There’s something about her that made me stop to look and I can’t stop looking now.

  “Aaliya,” she says. I blink and she repeats herself, louder this time. “Aaliya Singh…my name.”

  Her name whispers through my mind. There’s a flash of something imperceptible in my head, but it’s lost almost immediately.

  “Damien’s my oldest friend and business partner,” Gabe announces, distracting me.

  She nods, her eyes still on me.

  “Also, Damien is His Grace, the Duke of Kittridge,” Gabe adds.

  Her head snaps back to him and she arches a delicate brow. “Is that supposed to be relevant or is there a protocol to be followed while greeting a Duke that I have missed?”

  Wow! She is bold. Either she has no respect for my title or she doesn’t know the importance of it. Most people are either awestruck when they are introduced to me or bloody damn respectful. So, her complete nonchalance is refreshing and intriguing.

  Gabe shakes his head. “No, I just thought that you’d want to know whose charity function you’re attending with me tomorrow night.”

  “Oh!” Her doe eyes widen as she looks from him to me.

  Oh indeed! Gabe usually attends all these high society functions alone. He uses them as a source for networking with the movers and shakers of the English aristocracy. I’m curious to know how important this woman is to Gabe that he has decided to bring her along as his date.

  Before I can ponder on that Gabe says, “Damien, I’ll see you later at work. I have to drop Aaliya first.”

  With a quick wave, he escorts the girl, Aaliya, towards his waiting car. They cross the road and just as Gabe opens the door for her, she turns and her eyes meet mine. She stares at me for a few seconds before she blinks and leans forward to enter the car.

  A small smile curves my lips. The gala certainly looks more promising now.

  Aaliya

  My pulse racing, I relay my address to Gabe. He enters it on his GPRS and puts the car in gear. Of all the scenarios I had played in my mind about my meeting with Damien, I never expected it would have been that casual. It was only by sheer will I kept my raging emotions in check when he held his hand out and introduced himself to me. Gabriel was right. My plan to ambush Damien with information about our life together was seriously flawed. The cold, hard man I met would never have believed I’m his wife.

  I unlock the door to my rented apartment and Gabe walks inside behind me.

  “It’s a decent place,” he comments, looking around.

  “It’s close to Hyde Park and I think Rian would love it here.”

  Gabe tilts his head to look at me before settling himself on the couch in the living room. “Let’s talk. If we’re going to do this, then we have to plan everything.”

  Oh, thank God, he’s agreed to help! Exhaling the pent-up breath that was constricting my chest, I shut my eyes as the tension ebbs away from my shoulders.

  Blinking at him, I ask, “So how should we tell him? Should we tell him before the gala? Should I show him our pictures together? Shoot, why didn’t I think of that? I have so many photos.”

  I start scrolling through my phone. My photos folder has hundreds of pictures of him and me and our son. I scan through so many, clicking my tongue as I reject some and approve others. Yes! This could work.

  Gabe places a hand on my phone. “Aaliya, I’m sorry but we can’t tell him.”

  “What do you mean we can’t tell him?” I frown. “I thought you would help.”

  “I will, but not like this. I have to protect you and Rian first. And trust me, announcing you to the world like this is not safe for either of you.”

  I drop my phone to the side and cross my hands. “Gabe, what are you not telling me?”

  He gets up and starts pacing. “All I can say is that Damien’s father had several enemies who maybe after Damien now and until we know more, I can’t risk either you or Rian getting into the crossfire.”

  “Don’t be cryptic, Gabe,” I scream, standing up as well. “I trusted you. Damien trusted you and yet you refuse to side me on this.”

  “I am and will always be on your side. Just trust me to do this my way for now.”

  My mouth opens and closes. I need his help and I guess in my heart I do trust him. So, I sit down.

  “Fine. I’ll go with what you say for now.”

  The frown knotting his forehead disappears.

  “For starters,” he says, “Damien thinks that he was in Scotland for the last five years. That he chose to disappear there. We have an office in Edinburgh and he did keep an apartment on hand there.”

  “And he bought that?”

  “Yes! He knows he left London for five years. I just haven’t told him he was in India. I did that to protect Rian and you. Besides, five years back when he chose to disappear, Scotland was anyway going to be our ruse in case anyone asked too many questions about him. No one knew he was in India and so as per his plan I kept the apartment in Edinburgh and maintained it. And now I’m using this very story as a ruse for him to believe that he actually lived in Edinburgh. The staff there knows what to say to continue this belief and so he believes it too.”

  My mind has been unable to wrap around the fact that Damien had actually wanted to disappear from his life. And he did it so completely. There i
s so much I didn’t know about Damien and in the space of two months there is so much I have learned from the Internet and yet there is so much unanswered.

  “Why Gabe? Why did he do it? Why did he leave everything behind?”

  Gabe shrugs. “He refused to give me details. But it was something concerning his father and brother. He wanted them out of his life or he wanted to get out of theirs. I’m not entirely certain.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.” I run my hands through my hair. “What had his father and brother done to him, Gabe? Did they threaten him to leave?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Aaliya. He came to me one day, five years ago, distraught and exhausted. He wanted to leave London for good and go to a place where they’d never find him, never be able to control him again. We chose India together. We had been thinking of expanding our business to Asia for a while and Mumbai made sense. No one would ever think of looking for him there. Name change, a new identity, a new look, new bank accounts and even a new passport with the new name; no stone was left unturned. And thus, Damien Alexander Talbot became Damien Alexander, the man you’ve known for the last five years. Damien moved to Mumbai and we opened Alpha Arc in India. The rest you know.”

  “Yes, the rest is my history with Damien.” I smile. “I was the first designer he hired. We fell in love so fast and got married even faster.”

  After completing my advanced degree in interior design, I had been working at an old and well-known architectural firm. But they were extremely conservative in their ideas, refusing to try anything new. A friend in HR had recommended this new design firm and that they were looking for designers.

  That day, I was late for the interview. I rushed towards the open elevator and there he was, standing inside, fiddling with his phone. We reached for the same floor button together. Our fingers touched and I remember a zing of heat go through me. Much like how it had felt on shaking his hand earlier today. I remember looking into his face the same time his gaze had landed on me. In that instant, when our eyes had locked on each other for the first time, my heart had roared MINE!