Secret Passions (3 page)

She nodded and looked down at the glass she was still holding in her hands.

He thought about the consequences of what she’d done. He knew the horror stories of honor killings that still happened today. Family members killed young women for far less than what Sandi had done, what he’d helped her do five years ago. “Are you sure?”

“They were outside my apartment. I couldn’t go back there. I didn’t know who else to trust.”

“You work with Eve?”

“Yes, Kovich & Edward Agency has been selling my artwork under my pseudonym. I’ve only dealt with Eve since signing on three years ago. Ric thought that the fewer people I dealt with, the better.”

Upon hearing Ric’s name, it all became clearer to him. Mitchell had almost gotten Ric Derby and his new wife killed over this young artist, Sannidhi, or  Sandi, as she liked to be called. She had been a seventeen-year-old prodigy. Her hands tied by her government and her family, she was destined to marry someone she didn’t know. She’d called him late one night while he’d been in a drunken stupor and had begged for his help. He’d hung up and called his old friend Ethan, and had asked him to handle it all.

Weeks later he’d found out that the girl’s family was searching for her. Apparently they had money, big money, and he’d pissed off a lot of people. At that point he was still unsure where Ethan and the girl were. All he knew was that Ethan had called and told him they’d meet him in three weeks.

He’d tried to tell Ric about the mess he’d gotten himself in, but had been too scared to break his friend’s trust. That decision had almost cost his friend his life. Actually, the day he’d visited Ric and his new wife, Roberta, at the hospital after she’d been shot was the last day he’d had a drink. Over five years of being sober, and he’d never once thought about picking up the bottle. The image of Ric’s wife lying in the hospital bed after the bullet, which had been close to her heart, had been removed had cured him of his past indiscretions.

He looked across the room at Sandi and tried to remember meeting her for the first time. She’d been dressed in dark military fatigues, her face and body covered by the large clothes, a disguise. Her dark hair had been cut short, military short, showing most of her scalp through it. Ethan’s plan to hide her in plain sight was to dress her as a young male marine. She had looked the part at the time.

“Sandi?” He was shocked. The girl he remembered meeting that night was nothing like the woman who sat before him now. She smiled a little and nodded her head.

Remembering the family she’d come from—the determination they had to find her, how they would stop at nothing to get their hands on her—he ran his hands through his hair, and realized just how screwed they were.

M
itchell tried reach Ethan three more times before he finally gave up. His friend was just not answering. He was probably deep under cover somewhere.

Mitch was pacing the living room floor, while Sandi sat on the couch looking tired and frazzled.

“Mitchell? I hate to ask, but do you by chance have anything I could eat?”

He stopped and looked at her. What kind of host was he? She’d obviously been tired when she had arrived, and all he’d done so far was offer her a glass of water and ogle her, thinking that she was hired to please him.

“I’m sorry, you must be starved. Stay right here, and I’ll fix something for you.” He rushed across the room and decided to make a quick pot of stir fry.

Cooking was something he always did when he needed to work something out. He barely noticed when she walked across the room and sat at the bar, watching him. He was chopping the onions when she came close to him.

“Here, I can do this.” She leaned on the countertop to take the knife from his hands and he smelled her hair. It smelled of jasmine and he wanted to lean closer to enjoy even more of her.

“Tell me what you’ve been doing since I last saw you. How have you enjoyed America? You obviously lost the thick accent.” He moved over to stir the rice.

“Oh, I still have it when I want to,” she said in her thick accent. He smiled down at her. “I’ve also picked up a few others along the way,” she said easily in another, more common accent, sounding like she was from the Bronx. 

“You’ve a talent for it.” He picked up his grandfather's Irish brogue. They smiled at each other.

“Well, I’ve been painting, and Eve has been doing a wonderful job making me and you quite a lot of money. Other than that, I’ve been enjoying my freedom.”

She moved over and tossed the onions into the pan. “What else can I chop?”

“There are some green peppers and some celery in the refrigerator.”

They made a good team in the kitchen. In no time his place smelled of rich food, and by the time they sat down to eat, they were both laughing. Mitchell realized as he bit into the spicy food that for the first time since his break up with Suzanne, he had thoroughly enjoyed the company of another woman.

Sandi helped him clear up after dinner. She felt bad for putting him out, for making him entertain her, but she saw no other options. She just couldn’t afford to trust anyone. After all, she still had to figure out how her father had found her. She was living under a different name, keeping her head down, not causing herself to stand out.

“Mitch, I need to find out how my family found me.”

They were sitting back in the living room. Her feet were tucked back underneath, her and she was enjoying a cup of coffee he’d made.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve thought a lot about this since seeing my father outside my apartment. How did he find me? It’s not like I’ve gone around shouting out who I am. I don’t use my real name, even my rent and credit cards are under the name Ethan gave me five years ago. I thought at first that I had slipped up somehow. But when I was walking over here, I realized there is no way my family could have found me, except through Kovich & Edward Agency.”

“Wait, what are you saying? That I would have...”

“Oh, no! Not you.”

“If not me, then I guess I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

She took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch. “Well, it makes sense. If my father had tracked your agency down through your connection with Ric Derby—after all, as far as my family knows he is the one that brought me to America—all it would take is someone there confirming a woman fitting my description had signed with you.”

“But you said you only worked with Eve. She’s worked with our company for over two years and I’ve known her a lot longer than that. There is no way she would ever break our strict confidentiality agreement.”

“I never thought it was her. I just don’t know how else they would have found me.” She rubbed her forehead again and could feel the fatigue setting in.

“Why don’t you go on up and take a nice shower and wash away your problems for the night. You can take the guest room. There are some of Suzanne’s, my ex’s, clothes in one of the drawers. She was a lot taller than you, but maybe you can find something to fit into. Don’t worry about it tonight. I’m sure Ethan will call any time, and he’ll figure out what to do next. But for now, you’re safe.

She looked across the room and knew she was safe. She’d only truly felt safe in the presence of two men before: Ethan and Mitchell.

Once she was up in his guest room, she remembered staying there for a few nights five years ago. Someone had redecorated it since her last visit. Probably the ex he’d mentioned, Suzanne. She looked through the drawers and wondered what kind of woman had let Mitch slip through her fingers.

That was one thing she just couldn’t put her finger on in this country. If she had found a man like Mitch and was lucky enough to be with him, there was nothing she would do to lose him. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe this Suzanne hadn’t wanted the relationship. She couldn’t imagine Mitch cheating on a woman he was seeing. She didn’t know or have a lot of experience with men, but she’d watched enough television since arriving to know how to read a man’s character.

She found a small pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt that could easily flow to her knees and took them into the bathroom attached to her room. Turning on the shower, she turned the water to the right temperature and slowly peeled off her own clothes. It felt like she’d hiked across Manhattan in them, and she realized she felt dusty and sweaty. Stepping into the warm water, she was thankful to see a bottle of shampoo and conditioner on the small shelf.

Taking her time, she slowly let the dirt from the day wash off her while her mind ran over her options. She knew she couldn’t hide out at his place for long. After all, if they had found her, they already knew about the connection with Mitchell. She did feel like she was safe for the night, but thought it best that she move on tomorrow. She still hadn’t thought through exactly where she was going to go.

After her shower, she crawled into the large bed and tried to shut down her mind for the night, but the past found its way into her dreams.

“Pitā, Pitā!” The little girl ran through the large gardens as if floating. Her long brown hair was neatly tied up with silk scarf
which covered most of her head. Brightly colored silk flowed around most of her little body. She cried for her father as she ran through the large glassed doors, down the shiny tile hallway, and straight into her father’s waiting arms. When she looked up at her father, he smiled with kind eyes.

“What is it, bēṭī? Why are you crying so, my little pālatū?”

She loved being called “pet.” It made her feel special that her father had chosen such an endearment for her. She looked up at him through watery eyes.

His face was always something of comfort to her. His dark skin showed signs of his age around his eyes and mouth. His hair was thick and dark, and she loved running her fingers through it when he comforted her.

“Pitā, why do I have to get married?” she used her best pout and looked into his dark eyes as a tear slipped down her chubby cheek.

“Now, pālatū, we’ve talked about this. You are not getting married, today.”

“Yes, I know, but why do I have to pretend to get married?”

“Sannidhi, this is a great honor. The Mahabir family has chosen you for their son, Ishat. Besides, you will like him. He loves art like you do.”

Her little face pouted up more. She didn’t like the idea of fake marrying anyone. Especially a boy. She wasn’t around boys often. In fact, her father was the only man she’d ever been around. She looked around the room and realized for the first time that it was filled with men. They were guests for the special event, all dressed in brightly colored dhotis, each a beautiful shade of red, much like her own clothing.

Just then her father looked up and smiled. “Go with your māṁ. There is little time left before the ceremony.”

She held onto her father’s neck for just another second, then let go as he set her back on the ground. She left the room and walked beside her mother back through the large garden filled with flowers of every color and large stone statues, until they reached her rooms.

Here there were other women dressed much like she was, women who had always been there to serve her no matter what her need. Her mother spoke harsh words to her, scolding her for running off to her father. She looked down at her colored hands, which were decorated in Henna especially for the day’s special events.

“I’m sorry, māṁ. I won’t run away again.” She looked into her mother’s young smiling face. “Now, turn and look at yourself. Look at how beautiful you look on your special day.”

When Sandi turned and looked at the large walled mirror, instead of seeing a young girl of the age seven, she saw a full grown woman. And instead of just her engagement party, it was the day of her wedding. She would no longer belong to herself. Instead she would be a slave to her husband's family. To bear as many children as he wished, to work, clean, and cook for him and his family. She looked at herself in the mirror and her image slowly transformed in front of her eyes. Wrinkles started forming around her eyes and mouth, her hair turned a light shade until finally it was full of gray, and there were too many wrinkles on her face to recognize the child she had been a few minutes before. Her life was over before she had even begun to live.

She woke with a start and looked around the room. When she noticed a silhouette of a man standing in the open doorway, she screamed.

“Easy, it’s just me. You were having a bad dream.” He watched her relax back against the pillows.