Beneath The Lies

by Sapna Bhog

  I blink, shaking away those long past images from my head.

  “We were so happy. Our life was perfect. Sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming and that I’ll wake up and everything will be back to the way it was.”

  “It will, Aaliya. You have to be strong for both your sakes.” He reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ve known Damien since years and I can say with absolute certainty that being with you brought about a change in him. He was calmer, peaceful even and really happy with you. Please don’t forget that. So, let’s start with the gala tomorrow night and see how he reacts to you now. We’ll figure it out from there.”

  “Alright!”

  “One more thing, Aaliya, you need to go shopping.”

  “What?” I give him a perplexed look. “Are you crazy?”

  He laughs. “Your husband is a Duke, the closest to being a royal in England. In order to fit into his life, you need to fit into his social circle first. You have to dress well.”

  My brows shoot up. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

  “This is not Mumbai. This is the British aristocracy. You’ll be interacting with some of the richest people in England and probably the world. Money talks and several doors will automatically open for you if you look like you belong. You need to get a complete wardrobe change, starting with what you will wear to the gala. You need a gown, shoes, jewelry, etc. I promise that nothing you’ve ever attended will compare to the pomp and splendor that you’ll witness tomorrow night.”

  Although I don’t completely understand what he’s saying, I nod. It won’t be too hard to shop. Thanks to Damien, I’m not a complete novice when it comes to designer brands. I enjoy buying the occasional Chanel and Gucci as much as any other person who can afford them. But I’ve never over indulged.

  “Fine, I can figure out a new wardrobe,” I finally accept.

  “Do you need money, Aaliya?” Gabe questions.

  His question is insulting, to say the least, but I know he’s looking out for me. I shake my head. “Of course not. I have access to all our accounts.”

  Damien never hid his wealth from me. I knew he was rich even before we got married. I was aware his business partnership with Gabe in Gamma Inc. was highly successful. But now our firm, Alpha Arc, is one of the most successful design firms in Asia with branches in India, Singapore and Hong Kong. Only thing is that now Damien doesn’t remember it. Our hundred and fifty plus employees across Asia only know that Damien has met with a major accident and that now Gabe and I are running things.

  Gabe checks the time on his watch. “I have to get to work. Let’s meet later in the evening for dinner. We can talk more. I’ll text you the location of the restaurant. I assume you can find your way around now?”

  I nod. There are so many things I still need to ask him, but I’m going to be patient until tonight.

  Damien

  Gabe struts into my office and tosses an iPad on my desk. I lift it to see my face splashed on a popular news site with Celia standing beside me. The headlines scream ‘Lady Celia’s plans to be the next Duchess of Kittridge intact’. My statement to the media is reported in detail.

  Gabe narrows his eyes at me. “Care to explain?”

  I huff out an irritated breath. “Celia was just being Celia.”

  “And you suddenly decided to converse with the media?”

  I shrug. “I just need them off my back, Gabe!”

  “Well, Celia has started a controversy and you are in the center of it. Remind me once again why you agreed to go out with her?”

  “She’s apologized several times for what she did in the hospital and she’s an old friend.”

  Gabe gives me a disgusted look. “I don’t like that woman and I trust her even less.”

  “And I don’t blame you. But after speaking to her about my brother today, I feel a tinge of sympathy for her, Gabe. I’m convinced she was unhappy with David. Knowing him, I’m sure he treated her badly. That’s the only reason I didn’t reprimand her for deliberately playing into the hands of the press.”

  He raises his hands in the air. “I will however say it again, you need to be careful with her.”

  “I will keep that in mind.”

  Gabriel looks around my office. “Who sent you flowers?”

  I squint in the direction he’s looking at and sure enough there is a bouquet of flowers on the side table. I haven’t even spared them a glance until now. It’s a bunch of pink carnations and white lilies. There’s a note tucked in between the petals. I reach for it and tear it open.

  You may have forgotten, but I have not. You are most certainly next!

  Ice fills my veins as I hand the note to Gabe.

  “We need help, Damien. Let me call the police,” Gabe implores after he’s read the note.

  “No!” I stand firm. “No police. I won’t open a Pandora’s box by calling them. God only knows what all they’ll uncover from my father and brother’s records if we tell them they were probably murdered and my accident too was premeditated.”

  “Then let us involve Mike,” Gabe suggests, tilting his head to the door.

  Mike is, as usual, waiting right outside my office. A sentinel ready to strike if need be.

  “How’s that going to help?” I cross my arms in front of me.

  “I don’t know!” Gabe gives a half shrug. “He’s ex-MI6. I’m pretty sure he has enough contacts to help us discreetly.”

  “Alright!”

  I call Mike inside. He looks from me to Gabe and back at me, waiting for one of us to speak.

  I hand him the note. “This arrived along with the flowers.”

  He goes through it and addresses me. “Is this the first threatening note you have received?”

  “It is the first since my accident.”

  “Pink carnations and white lilies signify death and mourning,” he explains. “Is there anything else you need to tell me, sir?”

  “Make him hear the voice message,” I tell Gabe.

  The message plays and we all listen to my voice as it comes through the phone speaker.

  “We need your help, Mike,” I say as soon as the message finishes. “I don’t want to involve the police at this point because, as you know, I have no recollection of anything.”

  Mike asks me questions regarding my father and brother and my relation to them, which I answer truthfully. There’s not much to say because we had no equation whatsoever. They hated me for never toeing their line and the sentiment was mutual. They despised my success with Gabe and our firm and their hatred only fueled my desire to succeed even more. And while they were making money by destroying the family legacy, I was building my own wealth and privilege without them.

  “Sir,” Mike calls out to me. “All this does look suspicious, your father and brother’s death, your accident and now this,” he says. “We need to figure out who would want all the men of the Kittridge family dead and why. Have you had a chance to go over your father’s or brother’s documents to check if they had received any similar notes?”

  “No, I haven’t had the time to search my father and brother’s effects.”

  “Then we will have to go through their things soon, sir”

  I nod.

  Finally, he says, “I have enough contacts to investigate all of this quietly. First up, I need to look at the security footage as to how these flowers came in. The note itself is useless as there are several people who have touched it. But I can try and track who sent the flowers.”

  I agree. “That’s a good place to start.”

  He continues, “We’ll need to go to your country estate. I assume that, like you, your father and brother too were traveling from there to London when their car crashed. I’ll need to check the camera feeds from the estate itself. I also need a copy of the reports on their accident and yours to understand better.”

  “My brother kept an apartment in Chelsea. It was his private pad. You can search that too.”

  “Yes. Also, I need permissi
on to go through your father’s and brother’s laptops, if they kept one.”

  I accept whatever he says. After he leaves, Gabe and I stare at each other in silence. The threat to my life suddenly seems more real and we both know it. I think in the last two months I had gotten complacent; life was simply moving by at a fast pace! But now that I’ve received a death threat, I know I’m still in danger. Someone truly is out to destroy me and the worse thing is that I’ve forgotten why. The situation is seriously fucked up.

  I rub the back of my neck. “I need to get a drink. Care to join me?”

  Gabe contemplates me for a moment before replying. “I’m meeting a friend tonight for dinner. Aaliya! You met her earlier.”

  My brows rise. “Oh! Okay then. Some other time maybe?”

  I watch him for a moment, hesitating to ask him about his relationship with the girl, worried about what his response will be because she’s the first woman I’m curious about too.

  “Why don’t you join us?” he asks.

  “Are you sure?”

  He laughs. “Of course. She’s just a friend.”

  Instant relief filters through me. “Then in that case, I’d love to join.”

  Aaliya

  My hands won’t stop shaking, knowing that I will be with Damien in a few minutes. After Gabe informed me that Damien was joining us for dinner, I ran to my limited closet, hunting for the perfect outfit. I changed three times before settling on the dark brown, boat-neck sweater with a broad, wide neck. It makes my breasts look fuller and my waist slimmer. Worn over black jeans, my hair flowing down my back and my thigh-high brown boots, I look stylish and smart. Huge gold loops adorn my ears, swaying against my cheeks as I walk.

  I push open the door to the restaurant and step inside taking in my surroundings. The décor is simple with small square tables strewn across and minimal lighting. The Italian flag is draped in long scallops across the ceiling. Gabe waves out to me and I spot him seated at a table by the corner, with Damien beside him. Damien’s eyes swing in my direction and we stare at each other as I walk forward. It takes all I have not to run to him.

  I slow my steps in order to see him better. It’s surprising how same and yet different he looks. He sits straighter, his chin raised at a haughty angle and his gaze is sharper, focused and a lot more intense. A shiver goes down my spine as his eyes sweep up my body, leisurely taking in every inch, starting from my feet and skimming up my legs, my hips, my waist, across my chest and then over my lips where he pauses for a second until he locks on my eyes. I struggle to breathe after that intense examination. I want him to like what he sees because no matter when I tell him that we are married, nothing will be the same if he’s not attracted to me.

  I chin up and return his appraisal, running my eyes over him. He’s wearing the same suit from earlier in the day, though the jacket is now off, his top button open, the tie hanging loosely down his neck. His short hair is messy, as if he’s run his hands several times through it and his jaw is covered with an evening shadow of stubble reminding me of my Damien and his bearded look. My eyes meet his and a corner of his lips goes up, acknowledging my interest in him.

  Both the men stand up to greet me as I reach them.

  “Aaliya, there you are!” Gabe comes closer and pecks my cheek lightly.

  I turn to Damien. “Hello, again!”

  A smirk ghosts across his lips as he once again appraises me, this time in reverse, from top to toe. “Hello, again!”

  We stare at one another for a few seconds before Gabe announces, “Let’s all get seated.”

  Gabe pulls a chair for me and I sit across Damien with Gabe by my side on the small square table.

  “What will you drink, Aaliya?” Damien asks after we are all settled in our places. “Wine, red?”

  I blink because that is my preferred drink.

  I nod.

  “Not too dry I assume?”

  Again, I’m taken aback. “Absolutely.”

  Damien orders my wine while my mind churns with all the questions plaguing me. Does he remember what I drink or is this just a coincidence? He’s known me for five years, he knows my tastes, my likes and dislikes more than anyone else. I exchange a nervous glance with Gabe, who gives me a reassuring nod.

  When Gabe called to inform me that Damien was joining us for dinner, I thought that Gabe had changed his mind and that we’d finally tell him the truth about me. But my hopes were dashed when Gabe refused point blank.

  So here I am, seated at a table with my husband, pretending to be a stranger to him, my stomach fluttering in the hope that seeing me will spark a return in his memory.

  Damien takes the reins of the conversation. “Gabe tells me that this is your first visit to London.”

  “Well, I visited once before but that was too short, for a day only,” I reply, truthfully.

  His gaze doesn’t waver from me and the flutter in my stomach turns to full on somersaults. Swallowing, I ask, “How are you doing? Everything okay after your statement to the media?”

  Instantly, the shutters fall over his eyes and his expression hardens. Shit! Have I crossed a line? No! I chide myself for thinking like that. I’m going to be the bold and confident woman that he fell for once before. I refuse to be anyone other than who I am. Lifting my chin, I wait for him to reply.

  He exchanges a glance with Gabe who sips from his whiskey glass and says, “It’s all over the Internet and the news, Damien. Don’t be upset if everyone is curious. You called it upon yourself.”

  The waiter arrives with my wine and I take a sip.

  Damien looks at me directly. “Well, to answer your question, I’m doing as well as I can under the circumstances. But don’t make this an inquisition because I won’t answer. I didn’t come here to talk about myself, so this topic is off limits.”

  My chin juts out and my nostrils flare. “And I didn’t know making small talk with someone was considered an inquisition. So, please don’t be rude.”

  Gabe’s brows shoot up to the ceiling. But at this point I don’t care. Damien may have lost his memory but that gives him no right to be impolite to me. The Damien I know would never have been rude to the friend of a friend, as I am to him right now.

  Damien’s eyes widen and his lips curve into a slight smile. “Apologies, Aaliya. It’s just that I’m tired of everyone asking questions to which I have no replies.”

  I lower my chin. “Apology accepted, Damien.”

  Gabe cuts in. “Aaliya is an interior designer from India. We met at a conference five years ago in Mumbai.”

  Damien’s head snaps to look at him. “You’ve been to India?”

  “A few times, Damien. I’m sorry you don’t remember that.”

  Pain crosses his face and his lips pinch together. Damien stares into his whiskey glass before he exhales and takes a quick sip.

  I step in, trying to lighten the mood. “It was funny the way Gabe tried Indian curry for the first time at the conference and choked on the spices. He was sweating for a whole hour after that.”

  “Damn, my mouth was on fire and you laughed throughout it all,” Gabe complains.

  Both Gabe and I are trying to stick as close to the truth as possible. I did meet Gabe at a conference. I attended an architecture and interior design conference with Damien a few months after I started working for him. We weren’t dating at that time, but we had become friends. Gabe attended that conference as well and that’s where we were introduced. I study Damien carefully to check if there’s a slight glimmer of anything coming back to him but there’s nothing. He’s simply watching the two of us.

  I turn to Gabe. “Seriously, Gabe, how could you not have tried any Indian food ever before that? England is filled with so many Indians. And to think you love it now.”

  Gabe snorts. “I don’t love Indian food. I only can manage eating it now.”

  “Oh, is it? And that’s why you text me to cook you Chicken Biryani every time you’re boarding the flight from London to Mumba
i?”

  He lifts his hands up. “Fine. Guilty as charged. I love your Chicken Biryani.” He turns to Damien. “Her Biryani is out of this world.”

  “Is that right?” Damien raises his brows.

  “Maybe someday you’ll get to try it to know for yourself.”

  He tilts his head to the side, studying me intently. “Perhaps, I will.”

  Gabe asks him a question and the two of them launch into a discussion on the political affairs of Britain. Every few seconds, Damien’s gaze rests on me. We stare at each other until he looks away again. This repeats throughout his conversation with Gabe. What does he see when he looks at me? Why is he observing me so frequently? Does a little part of him remember me in some way and is that why he can’t look away? Or am I just a stranger to him and he’s only curious about me?

  I love this man so much and it hurts my chest so hard to think that he considers me as a stranger, a friend’s friend. Once again, I ask myself if what we had was ever true. Because if he did love me then how could he forget me? This question has plagued me since the moment I found out about his amnesia. I sip my wine for fortitude. All my internal conflict is irrelevant because I have to bring him back. I have to make him remember.

  I caste a weary glance around the restaurant and my eyes land on the table to our left. Sure enough, Damien’s bodyguard from this morning is sitting there. He’s eating his meal and suddenly he looks up at me. I’m pretty certain that he knows who I am because if he is a bodyguard worth his salt, then he would’ve definitely looked into me by now, especially considering Gabe specifically asked him to keep an eye out for me. He gives me an imperceptible nod and concentrates back on his food.

  “Sorry, Aaliya. We are ignoring you,” Gabe gives me a woeful look. “Let’s order dinner.”