Nights of Roshan
By
Billy London
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
© 2013 Nights of Roshan
Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Contents
Chapter One. 4
Chapter Two. 7
Chapter Three. 10
Chapter Four 21
Chapter Five. 25
Chapter Six. 32
Chapter Seven. 37
Chapter Eight 40
Chapter Nine. 47
Chapter One
The first night…
Neiri flicked her tongue out and peeled off the single hair that had tickled the back of her throat. Resting an arm on the side of the swimming pool, she lifted her goggles to the top of her head and squinted at the hair. Fine. Silver. Flecks of black. The hell? The actual hell? She rolled it between her fingers; the texture felt the same as cat hair. Wincing, Neiri heaved herself out of the pool and sat on the side. The whole building was pet-free. It was in the covenants of her deeds. No pets. Especially cats. Oh, good God, was her throat closing? Antihistamine. Now. Now. Now. Rushing to the changing rooms, Neiri grabbed her sports bag and flung through the belongings for the tablets she kept with her at all times.
So she couldn’t swim at all now? Her leisurely evening swims had become tense, early morning exercise all because of the new owner. Again Neiri cursed the existence of her smart-arsed ex-husband who was dragging out their divorce finances to avoid bankruptcy. All his scheming and planning meant Neiri was stuck in this building. Unable to sell, unable to move until they either went to court for the last time or Adil could smarm his way into an agreement, she was now suffering the indignity of swallowing cat hair in her own pool. Well, the pool inside the building. Everyone else had sold up to the new owner, who’d made an absolute nuisance of himself by converting the top floor of the eight-storey building into his own flat level mansion. She had a brief vision of that blinding grin he flashed almost every time they saw each other. Okay, she conceded. Not that much of a nuisance of himself.
Roshan Ahsani was so ridiculously good looking, the day he’d turned up at her flat with a box of her favourite truffles from Belgium and an apology for the building work, she’d looked up into his face – his genetically perfect, symmetrical, God-touched face – and laughed. Horrified by the reaction, she laughed even harder when a frown furrowed his smooth, dark olive brow. He’d been the one to sit her down while he poured her a stiff drink, showing up her lamentable hostess skills. The drink didn’t really help. She had a giggling fit every time they ran into each other and it was embarrassing every time.
The man was lavish and extravagant but generous with her. She supposed he had to be since she was the one in the way of his establishing Ahsani Towers. But he’d recommended the solicitor she used. He’d wrangled a lower council tax bill (actually he’d lowered all her bills) and beautifully redecorated the basement pool. She had fresh flowers delivered to her flat every single day. The variety and volume of flowers astounded her, and she had no idea what to say to him in thanks.
The building had all the convenience of a hotel and none of the irritations. If she sold up, that would be it. No more cosy little lift chats with Mr Ahsani. No more muted enjoyment of that cologne he wore. Whatever it was, she’d needed to stop trying to rub herself against him like a cat in heat. No more faux arguments about the pool use. Really, it was about putting her bikinied body in his view to convince him otherwise. He gave her leeway on everything, like a favourite uncle. But the pool? His playpen. He’d given her figure a lingering and appreciative glance before he actually tapped her on the nose, as if chiding a naughty kitten and said, “No. Nice try, though.”
The tablet felt stuck in her throat. She poured herself some filtered water and thought about her family. All of them. Sunning themselves in Sharm el-Sheikh for a beachside Christmas while she, since all her assets had been frozen as part of the litigation, had to stay in London, watching people get excited and stressed. A-freaking-lone. Her grandmother had given Neiri good warning. Marry that man and regret it. And how.
The next hearing was crammed in between Christmas and the New Year. She needed Adil to give up the flat. Take his name off it, and she could recoup the money she’d lost investing in one of his terrible schemes. As nice as Roshan was to her, she was quite aware that he was buttering her up so he could buy the flat. Of course he didn’t want to share it with her, and she needed to find herself somewhere to live. Somewhere that wouldn’t be anywhere near as nice as the tower, because it was so far out of her financial range, even if she bargained with Roshan for a higher selling price. All the while Adil and his swimwear model child of a girlfriend would carry on living in the Islington town house Neiri had lovingly decorated from top to bottom.
Dammit. She squeezed her eyes shut until they stopped stinging. The swim should have calmed her, and instead her allergies were up and so were her shoulders. She wrapped her hair in a towel and shoved her arms through the fluffy sleeves of her robe. Going back in the pool didn’t even register in her thinking. No thank you to any more cat hairs. Making an official complaint tickled in her brain, but she didn’t want to start any more wars. Although, she was more than tempted to wait down here and catch Roshan Ahsani throwing bags of black and white kittens into the pool and making them race each other, in some twisted animal Olympics. Cat hair. Was nothing sacred? To think, her ancestors used to worship those things…
Chapter Two
Roshan focused on the bicep curls he was counting in his head, rather than on his mother’s voice. Three hundred on each arm was normally a walk in the park. His current weakness was biologically based, and he didn’t know if his body had sent out some sort of warning beacon, but everyone seemed overly interested in his breeding or lack thereof.
“Chele,” his mother cooed over the telephone. “Please.”
“No.”
“It’s our turn.”
“I said no. I am not having those furballs, those hawked-up, phlegm-coated, chewed-up pieces of hair in my building. It’s not our turn. It’s always our turn because they’re too lazy to arrange things themselves. Tell them to find somewhere else.”
His mother rode over his refusal. “But I already promised.”
Roshan placed the barbell on the floor and rested his hands on his narrow hips. He despised their scheming. It fundamentally ran against his natural instincts – their natural instincts – and yet, they wanted a meet. A gathering to do what? Celebrate surviving extinction one more year? They were dying out. No manner of meets or planned fertility parties with people he was related to by blood would resolve that. They needed a sed. A traditional festival; true to their pagan origins. And to be fair, they really needed to stop interbreeding. Having a party and disrupting his mental stability would not ease any concerns that tigers were being wiped out.
“That’s not my problem.”
She changed tactics. “Your Aunt Leilani’s daughter has had her braces removed.”
Roshan pick
ed up a towel and patted off the sweat from his chest. “So?”
“Well it won’t hurt now if she pleasures you and something gets caught…”
God help him. “Bye, mum.”
He ended the call. A throbbing ache began behind his left eyeball. He liked his mother. Not just loved her. He actually liked her, too. But if she ever said anything like that again, he’d simply have to kill her.
Swimming, his tiger commanded. Now. Now. Now. He tapped in the code to the security cameras to see where his lone building companion was located. Neiriouri Halabi seemed to be in his playpen again. As much as the old Roshan would have happily told her to do one, a new, enlightened Roshan had other ideas. He watched her tuck in the lapels of her robe, folding them higher about her neck.
No one would ever call that woman sweet or pretty or cute. Faces like hers compelled artists and musicians to attempt to recreate the sensations she caused simply by existing. He was not a being given to worship, but that face? Definitely could change his mind. She stepped into the lift, depriving him of further admiration.
He threw the towel around his neck and tugged at the edges. It only took a moment’s thought before he put the call through.
“Send over that file. I know what I said, but I pay you to change my mind. Email. In the next minute.”
This time last year, he had been meditating, sitting at the base of one of his family’s temples, his tail swishing across the stone floor like a metronome to keep his thoughts clear. The need for regular solitude was part of his beast. And he heard it. The call. A chant that echoed the very beat of his heart. Every single tiger was taught, every single one of them, at one stage or another, that in their lifetime they would be called in prayer, in faith to protect. To watch over those who needed it. And it would be nothing less than their ultimate duty to honour that call. Once he heard it, he shifted to his human form and made arrangements to follow that call.
As soon as he touched down in London, everything fell into place. The building, the architect, right down to Neiriouri Halabi being unable to sell her flat. He’d handed her the right solicitor, spoken to the owner of her dental practice for leeway, made sure she would still be paid for full time despite only being there part time. He cut her bills, expunged her mortgage and barely saved her engagement ring from auction, just because he knew she’d regret it. And it all would have remained crisply dutiful had he not engaged with the infuriating woman. Now when he meditated, her barely covered figure would wander into his mind and demand, “Did you not see what I was wearing today? You really should take another look. Admire properly.”
His beast took the same view. “We really should spend more time with her. With nothing on. A little pinning, a little mating, maybe a little bit of teeth. But that’s it. Regularly.”
Private investigators had collated a file with his legal team to push her into selling. It hadn’t crossed his mind to look. Until now. Once he did, his compulsion for all things Operation Save Neiriouri became clear. Clearer than his trouser beast wanting to play with her…
His parents had had the decency to procreate outside of their bloodlines. And with Neiriouri’s help, so, at last, would he.
Chapter Three
The second night…
Neiri knew the apartment building better than anyone. Having a photographic memory helped enormously, but it was her home. More than the house in Islington ever had been. She’d bought the flat before she’d married, and with the sort of open trust she now kicked herself about regularly, she’d added her husband’s name to the title. Stupid. Really stupid. “Live and learn, child,” she told herself. With her knowledge of the building, she watched the updated security system Roshan had installed. Really, he’d been scammed. Anyone who watched Jack Bauer in action knew security systems should change their visible routines, or people as sneaky as she was would be able to take advantage. If she wanted to get to the basement without any of Roshan’s people seeing, she could do it in a matter of minutes. That was her evening sorted.
Her phone rang and she screened the call before answering. Mother. Again. “Hello, Mother,” she said, tone droll.
“A little more enthusiasm, please.”
“Hi, Mummy!”
“Roll it back.”
“All right, Mum?”
“Perfect! Your grandmother wants to know if you’ll be here in time.”
Neiri sighed heavily. Fascinating how her mother completely blanked out that Neiri had a job and might have been at work around other professionals. “She’s not senile. She knows I can’t leave in the middle of court hearings.”
“You’re not in the middle.”
“I can’t afford the flight.”
“Of course you can!”
“I’ve got an allowance with the freezing order, which won’t even begin to cover a flight over the Christmas holidays with what, three days’ notice? It’s not going to happen.”
Her mother sounded disappointed. “Well. I’ll tell her you tried.”
“No, don’t tell her that. Just say I can’t. Mum, don’t make me feel guilty about something that’s out of my control.” Her mother had suggested the family fly to London. A suggestion refused by her brothers, who wanted to spend the holiday in the sunshine. She’d been sharply reminded that her mother wasn’t supposed to be within spitting distance of a plane because of her heart condition. Neiri would have to just make do for the good of the family.
“I’ll pay for your flight.”
“You’ve got two grand to hand?”
“Yes, I have!”
“Not tied up in property?”
Her mother paused. “Well darling, Daddy curbed my card after I spent a bit of money on your present. But it was just something to cheer you up. There’s no point in buying a bracelet unless there are proper, weighty diamonds in it. Diamonds you can smuggle back to London and sell.”
Rolling her eyes, Neiri struggled to control her irritation with her parent’s fantasies. “Freezing order. I don’t want any of Adil’s soulless lawyers saying that I’m trying to dissipate assets by flying to Egypt. They’ll want to involve forensic accountants and all sorts to prove I’ve got money hidden in Africa, and I want this over with. I’m not risking it.”
“Daddy suggested we talk to someone. Who’ll then talk to Adil…”
“Tell Daddy he can’t kill him. It’d be nice, but I’d get the blame. I’m the idiot who married him.”
“Listen, this time next year, you won’t even remember any of this. It’ll be like a bad dream.”
Still living it, she thought. “Thanks. Mum, I’m getting another call in, so I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”
“Okay, then. Well, Happy Christmas.”
Her mother sounded so low, it forced tears to Neiri’s eyes. “And to you.”
Do something useful, she thought. Don’t dwell. You dwell, you cry. No with the crying. She decided on an outfit for finding what the present occupier of the penthouse mansion was doing to her pool. She didn’t care what he said, it was her fracking pool. Her phone rang again and she glanced at the screen. Oh, she really did have another call coming in.
“Neiri? It’s Janine.”
Her solicitor only rang if it was important. Until now, Neiri hadn’t thought her case ranked above an email marked as important. “Hello. Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all. Adil caved. He’s giving up the flat and reimbursing you for the money invested in Dubai.”
Neiri blinked. “What?” Janine repeated what she’d said word for word. “What?” Neiri said again. “That can’t be right. What do I have to do?”
“Just sign the consent order I’m emailing to you now and send it back to me. If the judge approves it today then I can get the banks to unfreeze your assets tomorrow.”
Then she could still go to be with her family. “Do it. Hold on. What’s the catch?”
“No catch, but I think he’s going to call you. Something about a family member. Okay, but sign it and
send it back to me. This is great! It means you start the New Year fresh.”
“Okay, thank you. Thanks, Janine.” Her phone vibrated with the receipt of the email. She read through it and, true enough, not a single catch revealed itself in the order. Adil had cracked. Finally. At last. No, there had to be some kind of backhanded deal going on. She wouldn’t be beholden to that man ever again. She called him, anger blazing through her.
“What do you want?” she said as soon as he answered.
“Neiri?”
“Yes, what do you want from me?”
“Hello. I didn’t expect to hear from you so–”
She cut him off. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. I just… I didn’t realise you had friends in high places.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Just… Be careful.”
Neiri pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it in disgust. “Why would you care? I thought you were trying to head off bankruptcy?”
“I don’t need to. But you know, with people like that, there’s always a price. I’ll always care about you.” She snorted loudly at that. “Neiri, I do care, and that’s why I say watch yourself.”
“Whatever, just sign the order and let’s move on with our lives.”
She pressed the end call so hard, the screen changed colour beneath her thumb. Bastard. She wondered if her mother had finally convinced her father into paying Adil off just so she could be free. No, her father would happily have the man killed rather than give him a penny more. Friends in high places. It was a silly thing for Adil to say. The only rich person she knew lived two floors above her, and she had nothing of value to offer him. Him or any other man. Unconsciously, her hand drifted over her stomach before she snatched it back and printed off the order. Within minutes, she’d emailed her solicitor with the signed copy. There was no point in worrying her family until the freezing order was lifted.
Nights of Roshan Page 1
