Restless Billionaire (2 page)

 
          
Minutes later, after consulting with his hotel manager, he stepped
into his private lift and felt the habitual constriction of being in a suit,
and the familiar need to engage in something physical which would clear and
quieten his mind.
Exercise for Sebastian was a drug, an outlet he’d
turned to for as long as he could remember. It had helped him escape the chaos
of his dysfunctional upbringing and now helped him escape the rigid confines on
his time. It also eased the niggling sense of dissatisfaction he increasingly
felt, and helped him through the frequent nights where he was lucky to get
three hours sleep, the curse of the chronic insomniac.

 
          
Sebastian
didn’t register the impassive lines of his hard-boned face in the mirrored elevator
door; he’d long ago learnt the art of projecting a controlled front, even while
inwardly he might be a mass of contradictions. But his thoughts helplessly
veered back to the couple downstairs. He had no doubt that in time reality
would strike and the sham that all marriages inevitably were would become
apparent in theirs. And in a country which held one of the lowest divorce rates
in the world he could almost feel a twinge of sympathy for the happy couple,
for it was unlikely they’d be allowed to escape the confines of their union,
especially if they had children.

 
          
He
chastised himself mockingly—who was he to rain on their parade or judge them?
His mouth tightened with grim black humour—after all, hadn’t he himself come
from a far from normal family upbringing?

 
          
On
that thought the elevator doors opened and Sebastian walked into the penthouse
Grand Wolfe suite, the best in the hotel. As he started to rip off his tie and
jacket he mentally wished the couple downstairs all the best in the world and
firmly pushed the image of the luscious bride from his mind. They were welcome
to each other and a lifetime of wedded disharmony.

 
          
* * *

 
          
Aneesa
was barely aware of the wedding ritual going on around her. She felt numb from
the inside out and she knew on some level that this feeling was a form of
self-protection, albeit dangerously flimsy.

 
          
Her
head ached as it had done ever since her comfortable, privileged and secure
world had been blown to smithereens just two evenings previously. She’d gone to
Jamal’s rooms at the hotel to surprise him, hoping that she might encourage him
to take their chaste lovemaking to the next level.

 
          
The
thought of being a virgin on her wedding night had inexplicably filled Aneesa
with fear; perhaps even then she’d been aware that what she and Jamal shared
wasn’t normal and had wanted to provoke him in some way. She’d never understood
his reticence in the physical side of their relationship.

 
          
But
instead of finding him quietly reading his new script, which is what he’d told
her he’d be doing, she’d found him in bed.
With his
assistant.
His
male
assistant.

 
          
Aneesa
knew she still hadn’t fully assimilated the shock of that moment. She’d
stumbled to the bathroom and had been violently ill. By then Jamal’s lover had
disappeared and Jamal had calmed down enough to go into damage limitation mode.

 
          
She
could remember his smoothly handsome face, a mask of condescending pity, as he’d
asked her how she hadn’t already known about this when all their friends knew.
And Aneesa had almost been sick again when she’d recalled the snide looks she’d
often dismissed as petty jealousy from their circle of friends. She’d also had
to acknowledge uncomfortably that of her so-called friends who even now
thronged the courtyard of this exclusive hotel, there hadn’t been one she’d
felt she could confide in.

 
          
It
had been a harsh pill to swallow to acknowledge how shallow her life had
become, and how easily she’d left good friends behind once she’d become more
and more famous.

 
          
In
the space of that one evening, her whole life had undergone a subtle but
seismic shift.
And in the couple of days since, Aneesa had
changed from being a relatively spoilt young woman, who’d pretty much taken
everything around her for granted, into someone more mature and less naïve.
The urge to find comfort in blame had been futile, for she knew she was as much
to blame for the situation she now found herself in, as painful as it was to
acknowledge that.

 
          
Jamal’s
curt warning from that evening still rang in her ears and it had fatally
inhibited her impulse to ask for help or advice: ‘If you think for a second
that you can walk away from this marriage you can kiss your career goodbye for
ever. Who would want to marry you after such a scandal? Because you can be sure
of one thing, if you walk away and try to save face by telling people the
truth, I will deny it and fight you every step of the way. This marriage is my
ticket to respectability for ever. Our children will make everyone believe that
we have the perfect marriage. And who would even believe you over me? Their
beloved Jamal Kapoor Khan?’

 
          
Aneesa
had known he was right. If she even attempted to reveal the truth she’d be
crucified by his millions of devoted fans. As famous as she was, he was a far
bigger star. She’d be a pariah and would never make another movie in India.
Apart from all of that, she was the first in her family to get married. Her
beloved paternal grandmother was nearing ninety and maintaining that she was
clinging onto dear life just long enough to see Aneesa wed.

 
          
Aneesa
also knew that while the public perception of her family was that they had
untold wealth, in fact, her father had been struggling to keep the family silk
business afloat for some time now. Only she and her mother knew the reality,
which was that this wedding was all but crippling her father financially.

 
          
And
yet, Aneesa also knew that her father would prefer to face financial ruin than
the ignomy of not being able to pay for his first daughter’s marriage. He was
so proud that he hadn’t even let Aneesa help financially. While her pay packet
was nothing like her Hollywood counterparts, by Indian standards she was a
wealthy woman in her own right.

 
          
And
how could she have told her parents about Jamal’s secret? They were
conservative and solidly middle class. Respectability was their middle name;
they would be devastated. The pressure in her head and behind her eyes suddenly
increased now in an intense physical pain.

 
          
She
could feel the weight of Jamal’s gaze from her left and could barely bring
herself to turn to him, anticipating all too well the false adoration that
would be written all over his handsome features. It was a look that he’d
perfected over many years in films. A look that she’d fallen for herself when
they’d met on her first
film,
and a look that she’d
fooled herself into believing was sincere.

 
          
No
wonder he’d wooed her so easily, she recognised now with acrid bitterness. He’d
seen her coming from a mile away: sheltered, spoilt,
immature
and unbelievably naïve. And she’d fallen for his act, hook, line and sinker—seduced
by his smooth good looks and even smoother talking. Not to mention his intense
attention and adulation of her. He’d appealed to all the worst parts of her and
she’d live with the shame of that for the rest of her life.

 
          
Her
train of thought and self-disgust was cut short abruptly when the priest
officiating indicated for them to stand. They were approaching the most sacred
part of the ceremony, after which Aneesa knew her chances of escape would be
all but gone for ever.

 
          
The
ends of her sari and Jamal’s long jacket were tied together and they were about
to walk around the sacred fire seven times, while seven blessings were said,
each one for different aspects of their marriage. As they started to walk
slowly around the fire, Aneesa felt again the rising tide of panic. The
numbness was leaving her now and in its place she began to shake and tremble in
reaction to what she was doing.

 
          
Any
girlish dreams she’d had of falling in love and marrying had long since been
turned to dust. Her eyes were wide open now and with each step she took with
Jamal around this fire, she was hurtling further into a future with no escape
and certain pain and suffering. How could she possibly bring children into a
marriage like that? When their father would be sleeping with their mother
purely to procreate and maintain a façade?

 
          
In
that second Aneesa recalled the piercing blue eyes of the man she’d seen in the
shadows and suddenly an impulse stronger than anything she’d ever felt rushed
through her. In the midst of the shock and panic she acted with an economy and
sureness of movement that surprised her. She stopped and bent and swiftly undid
the knot that tied her sari to Jamal’s coat. She barely heard his indrawn
breath and his hissed, ‘Aneesa … what do you think you are doing?’

 
          
Then
she stepped off the dais. Heart thumping she went straight to her open-mouthed
father and took his hand in hers. She was aware that everyone was frozen in
shock and surprise and knew dimly that she had to take advantage of that. She
brought her father’s hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss against it and said
with a hoarse voice, her eyes filling with tears, ‘I’m so sorry, Papa, I can’t
do this. I’ll pay you back. Please forgive me.’ And she fled.

 
          
Aneesa
was barely aware of where she’d run, she knew only that she wouldn’t have long
to capitalise on the shock of the wedding crowd before her father sent people
to find her. She couldn’t bear to think of her parents’ confusion and dismay
either, or else she’d falter altogether. And she couldn’t turn back now.

 
          
She
stopped for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest. She’d come up several
flights of service stairs and now saw what looked like a staff elevator. All
Aneesa hoped for was that it would take her somewhere far away from that
courtyard and somewhere quiet, where she could assess the situation she now
found herself in. She longed for fresh air, and her clothes felt more
constrictive than ever.

 
          
The
elevator slid silently upwards, and then came to a smooth halt. The doors
opened with a muted whoosh and she found herself in what looked like a utility
room.
Albeit a very plush utility room.

 
          
She
approached the one door and opened it with her heart in her mouth. Peering out
she could see that she was in a suite of rooms that went on and on. All was
quiet and still. No one was here. She automatically assumed that she’d found
one of the empty suites in this massive hotel. Heaving a huge sigh of relief,
she emerged more fully and walked into a darkened kitchen. She could see a huge
formal dining room and, through that, wall-to-wall sliding glass doors which
led to an open terrace and balcony outside. She could see the skyline of Mumbai
laid out like a glittering carpet. This was no ordinary suite, this was the
penthouse!

 
          
When
she thought of her own honeymoon suite with its king-size bed covered in rose
petals she felt clammy and sweaty all over again. Almost tripping in her long
sari she made for the glass doors, struggling to open them and get out to the
fresh air.

 
          
Finally
they slid back and Aneesa stumbled out, gasping now. She ripped the heavy
garland of flowers from around her neck and let it fall to the ground. She was
vaguely aware of a dim light coming from nearby but barely registered it. When
she reached the wall she tipped her head back and breathed deep, the chaotic
sounds of the crazy Mumbai traffic drifting up from far, far below.

 
          
Her
heart finally started to slow down. So when she heard a deep drawling voice
say, ‘Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of jumping …’ Aneesa screamed.

 
          
ANEESA
whirled around so fast her head spun and she gripped the wall behind her with
both hands. And then she saw him in the dim light. She recognised him instantly
by his intense piercing blue eyes, like chips of ice. It was the man from the
shadows she’d seen downstairs. And now she also registered what she’d missed
entirely in her distraught state: a state-of-the-art terrace pool, lit from
underwater.