Every year a masked ball is held as a benefit fundraiser for the local children's hospital. It's one of the most anticipated social events in Mumbai and it's not unknown for many top businessmen to attend the event. Sometimes the occasional Bollywood star will put in an appearance too. It is said that many people dream of attending the event and for those involved with the hospital it is the highlight of their year.
To Armaan Malik, however, it was nothing but a chore. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the ball was for a good cause; he wasn't that stone-hearted. But being dragged there year after year by his father, a top surgeon at the hospital, made it a tiresome experience. He would have much rather have been out partying with his friends at some trendy new bar, and it didn't help that they kept texting him about all the hot girls they were dancing with. Armaan wished he had that luxury. The girls at the benefit were all dressed in ball gowns and he couldn't see their faces properly for the feathery and sequined masks they wore.
As usual he found himself leaning against the bar, nursing a drink. He watched the amber liquor swirl in the bottom of his glass and wondered how long it would be before he had a headache. Not long, he decided, judging by the crescendo of the orchestra band that was going on all around him, threatening to shatter his ear drums. Who the hell liked this kind of stuff anyway, he wondered, throwing back the rest of his drink irritably?
A cluster of girls all dressed up like extras from Moulin Rouge passed by him, throwing him speculative glances. He flashed them a lazy smile which sent them scurrying away giggling. That just made him roll his eyes. If they ran away at a smile, how was he expected to chat them up? Sighing, he glanced heaven-word and made a silent plea to God, or whoever was in charge up there, to at least make this night worthwhile.
After a few more minutes of lounging against the bar he decided God wasn't going to answer his prayers tonight and headed off across the dance floor. There was a small courtyard out the back of the hall where the ball was being held. It was where he always went about half way through the ball, usually to smoke and get as far away from the noise as possible. That was his intention now, but he barely made it to the centre of the room before the lights dimmed, making it impossible to see the other side of the hall. Cursing under his breath, Armaan had no choice but to stop and wait for some illumination. As he stood there a voice announced through a microphone that the dancing would now begin. Armaan's heart sunk. Great, he thought, just what I wanted to avoid. He squinted into the darkness, hoping he'd spot the French doors that led to the courtyard, but it was all shadows and the bulky, dark shapes of people.
The band started up again and as it did little spotlights came on all over the hall. It wasn't enough to light the place up, in fact the effect was more like candlelight, little pools of yellowish light swirling across the floor, almost as if they were alive. Armaan frowned at them, their movement confusing his brain for a second, making him feel as if the ground were moving beneath his feet. He shook his head to try and clear it and forced himself to look up, over the sea of bodies now crowding their way onto the dance floor. Over to the right there seemed to be a crack of brighter light and he decided that must be the doors he was looking for. People were beginning to twirl about in a strange type of dance that oddly mimicked the rotation of the spotlights, but Armaan pushed his way through them, determined to escape before the place drove him mad.
Navigating a path was not easy, though, and he had to keep weaving in and out, so that, after a few seconds, he felt he'd lost his way. He paused for a second to catch his bearings, frowning as he glanced about at the dancers and the lights, all of them seeming to coalesce before his eyes like a nightmarish kaleidoscope. Someone's elbow jabbed him in the ribs as they twirled past him and he jumped back with a cry of pain. And when he did, he collided with someone else.
"Sorry!" he said at the same time as the other person. They also both reached out to steady themselves at the same moment and ended up catching each other's arms. Armaan's heart gave an unexpected leap and, startled, he found himself looking down at a young woman. Her face was mostly hidden behind a ruby-red mask, dotted all over, not with the usual feathers or sequins, but little sparkling gem stones. In the dark it was impossible to tell if they were real or fake, but they winked and flashed like little strobes of flame. They were mirrored in the eyes that met his from behind that mask: deep and dark emerald, as bottomless and enchanting as any ocean.
For a moment he forgot everything: the annoying music, the stupid dancers, even the lingering pain in his side. All that he could concentrate on was those eyes and the way the light flickered through them, deepening them, throwing up speckles of brown and gold. He'd never seen eyes like them. He thought he could have written whole verses just about those eyes, and he'd never been interested in writing lyrics of poetry. So entranced was he that he forgot his fingers were digging into her arms, forgot even that she was clinging to his shirt sleeves, until she made a small sound of pain and those eyes pooled with a look of discomfort.
"Sorry!" he repeated, releasing her arms and a breath he hadn't even known he had been holding. A strange heat had crept into his skin and his pulse was fluttering like a butterfly. The room suddenly felt balmy, like somewhere in the tropics, but it was a nice warmth, pleasing and enticing. Armaan felt his heart start to beat a little faster as the girl took a step back and bowed her head shyly.
His eyes swept over her, taking in the tumble of her ebony black hair in loose curls about her shoulders. Those shoulders were slender and almost bare, save for the thin chiffon straps of her dress. Like the other girls she wore a ball gown, but unlike the others, which he found fussy and silly, this dress made her look like a model or film star. The top half was in a corset style, showing off her slender waist. The skirt bloomed out in a bell shape, with faint ruffles that made a soft, rustling sound when she moved, like the whisper of a breeze. It was a deep, dark ruby, and it heightened her complexion, giving her skin an almost otherworldly glow. Armaan had never seen anyone so beautiful. He couldn't help but stare at her in wonder.
Just then another pair of clumsy dancers went careening into the girl's back, knocking her forward. Armaan's heart lurched and his arms shot out automatically, catching her as she stumbled into him. She fell, her head nearly landing on his shoulder, and he felt her warm breath on his neck, her hair brushing against his cheek for an instant, until she pulled back. He didn't let go of her. Those emerald eyes turned up to his, a silent plea in them, but he didn't loosen his hold. Instead, he let his one hand glide round for her waist to the small of her back. The silky material of her dress felt good under his finger tips and there was the faint heat from her skin there, just perceptible to his touch. He saw her eyes widen, her pupils dilate, and he heard her breath catch softly. His left hand prized hers from his shoulder, lacing his fingers through hers. Her lips parted slightly, as if she might speak, but she didn't. Armaan took that for permission and slowly started to move them round the dance floor in a waltz.
For the first time in his life he understood the draw of this ball, of this dance. The music rose and fell all around them like invisible waves. It made his heart pump, the blood rush through his veins, and sent little rushes of anticipation down his nerve ends. He felt himself getting lost in the dance, in the feel of her body so close to his, of the warmth that radiated out of her and into him. Despite never having danced like this before, he flowed with her, their steps a perfect synchronisation, as if they had been dancing together forever. He spun her out, then pulled her back in, closer than before, so close that he could feel her breath on his face. His heart stopped for one long moment, and then started again, unsteady and fluttery, as she pulled back to arm's length and they started to move round in a circle, only their hands touching.
Her eyes never left his. In the darkness they flickered like green flames, the lights dancing through them now and again, making them seem brighter, more like jewels than eyes. He couldn't read the expression in them but it made his skin tingle all over. They were deep, so deep, smouldering, and when they looked at him he couldn't breathe. It should have been frightening, but it wasn't. Nothing he'd ever experienced was as blissful as this.
The dance demanded that they come closer again and as his hand snaked about her back he heard her gasp. Those enchanting eyes went even wider, surprise flashing in them for a second before they turned a richer shade of green. They simmered with something his brain insisted on calling desire. He couldn't be sure in the dark, but he thought the skin that wasn't covered by her mask flushed a little. Her lips were parted again and he could hear the shallowness of her breathing. For some odd reason it set his heart racing.
They stood there together for a moment, the dance forgotten. In the semi-darkness Armaan could quite easily imagine that they were the only two in the room. It certainly felt that way to him. Nothing else felt real except the feel of her back under his hand and the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Staring into those deep, mesmerising eyes, he couldn't think of anything else expect how right it felt holding her in his arms. They were strangers, he didn't even know her name, and yet he couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else. If time were to stop he wished it would stop on that moment only.
One strand of her hair had fallen forward during their dance, brushing the edge of her mask, threatening to trouble her eye. Without thinking, Armaan reached up and brushed it back behind her ear. It was a soft as silk and it felt wonderful running through his fingers. She closed her eyes and he felt a slight shiver rock her body at his touch. It sent a wave of pleasure through his bloodstream, dizzying and wonderful. His gaze travelled to her parted lips. They were full and red and looked so inviting. He wasn't even aware of when his fingers started to glide across her jaw; they seemed to move of their own accord, cupping her chin, titling it upwards, his thumb brushing her bottom lip lightly.
Those emerald eyes opened and they burned brighter than any fire he'd ever seen. His heart stopped altogether and in that moment he knew he had to kiss her. He started to lean forward, his eyes beginning to close, but then she gave a sharp gasp and jerked away from him. She did it with such force that he nearly stumbled and lost his balance, but he recovered in time to catch her wrist. Or, at least, to try and catch it. His fingers barely had a chance to curl about her wrist before she had yanked it free. Something cool and metallic went sliding over his fingers as she broke away, but he didn't pay any attention to it. His heart was too busy lurching, dismay crashing over him as he made another attempt to stop her and missed. Off into the crowd she ran, weaving through the dancers till the semi-darkness had swallowed her up.
Armaan lowered the hand he had unconsciously stretched out and felt an odd ripple of despondency pass through him. His heart actually felt as if it had been punched. There was no reason in the world that he should feel that way, he reasoned with himself. It wasn't like he knew the girl or had any relationship with her to warrant those feelings. And yet, suddenly, it was as if a part of him was missing, like she'd taken some essential component of his being with her when she ran away.
It was then that he became aware of the cool feel of metal in his hand and, looking down, he saw he was holding a bracelet. Frowning, he lifted it up so he could see it better, which was difficult in that near pitch-dark hall. Luckily for him, one of the spotlights strobed over the bracelet as he held it up, revealing a silver chain and, attached to it, a crystal-studded letter 'S'. The light caught the stones, making them wink and flash, reminding him of the girl's eyes. It was beautiful, just like her. His hand curled around it and when he lifted his head there was a small smile touching the corners of his mouth.
"Cinderella," he said under his breath. "I have your missing slipper. Now come and find your Prince Charming."
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It was the early hours of the morning before the ball ended and the revellers started flooding out into the streets, laughing and exclaiming that there had never been a better night. Finally, Shilpa Malhotra thought as she made her way out into the cold morning air. She'd never been more relieved to get something over with in all her life. And that was a shame, a small voice in her reflected as she stopped to hail a taxi home, because she had dreamed of this night for years. All through her adolescence she had heard tales of this magical night when one got to step back in time and live like a fairytale princess for a few short hours. She had sat in her dorm room and imagined how she would sweep into the room looking beautiful and all the men would fall at her feet. She would dance with them all, but there would be one, tall and handsome, who would literally sweep her off her feet. It would be like a dream.
Only the dream had turned into a reality that was too much for her to handle.
Instead of having the time of her life, she had just spent the entire night ensconced in the ladies room, hiding from the very prince she had always dreamed of. It wasn't like that, she told the snarky voice in her brain that had thought that. Yes, she had wanted to meet a prince, to be swept off her feet, but she'd never expected it would be so intense. The memory of the mystery man's hands on her waist sent an involuntary shiver down her spine and she had to close her eyes for a moment to steady her breathing. Only that didn't help too much because as soon as she closed them she pictured him gazing down at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the darkness, behind his mask.
Oh for goodness sake, Shilpa, she scolded herself mentally, eyes flying open. Stop thinking about him! You don't even know his name. It's not right to get all fluttery and breathless over some strange guy who had crossed the line with you. He was too familiar with you. That makes him a jerk. And yet, that voice in her mind whispered, nothing had ever felt so right.
Shaking her head to clear those ridiculous thoughts, she started to dig in her purse for her cell phone, giving up on hailing a cab. It was then that she noticed its absence: the little silver bracelet with her initial, the one she always wore, the one her mother had gifted to her on her birthday a week before she was killed...
Shilpa's head snapped up, her heart lurching to her throat in panic. No, she thought; I can't have lost it! Ten years she had worn that bracelet without it ever once coming off. It was as much a part of her as her skin. She didn't feel complete without it. How on earth had she not noticed that she had dropped it? Had someone stolen it? No, that was unlikely. She'd been all alone in the bathroom all night. She had to have dropped it in the ballroom somewhere.
A taxi drew up and the driver looked at her expectantly, but she couldn't leave without trying to find it. She would not be easy until she got it back again. Shaking her head at the man, she turned and went back inside, praying that she would discover it lying on the floor. She really didn't know what she would do if she couldn't find it.
The main hall was in darkness as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. Pausing just inside, she glanced around, trying to locate a light switch or at the very least a candle. That was when the tea lights came on. It happened so suddenly that she jumped. Her head swung round with an involuntary gasp as her heart slammed into her ribcage. The dance floor was now illuminated with soft, golden spots, like stars fallen from the sky. It was a hazy light, just enough to see by, and to spot the lone figure standing in the middle of the dance floor.
Shilpa's breath caught in her throat. Even at this distance and in the gentle lighting she could make out the black trousers, the dark blue shirt, the broad shoulders and the mop of black hair falling over the edge of the black mask. She knew those features; they were imprinted on her mind. They were the ones that had sent her scurrying to the bathroom all those hours before. A rush of heat went through her skin just looking at him again and she had to clamp her lips tightly shut to hold back the startled cry that had risen in her throat.
"Are you looking for this?" he asked her. His voice was rich and deep, like honey, and it made her shiver. She curled her nails into her palms and forced herself not to think about him but to concentrate on the object he was holding up. It sparkled like a diamond as the tea lights caught it, shooting multi-coloured strobes in all directions, nearly blinding her. Shilpa scrunched up her eyes and looked again, and this time she could make out the distinctive 'S' dangling from the chain.
"My bracelet!" she gasped, relief flooding her. In a flash she forgot her fear and she hurried across the room, reaching for the beloved trinket. But just as she reached him, the man drew his hand away, holding the bracelet high above his head, where she couldn't reach it.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, scowling at him. "Please give me my bracelet back."
His lips twitched in a smile that managed to be both sensual and superior. Shilpa tried not to stare at those lips and focus instead on the stab of irritation in her gut, but there was something so sinfully appealing about them that her eyes kept travelling back to them.
"What could 'S' stand for?" he said instead of answering her question. "'S' for Sapna? 'S' for Sita? 'S' for Shefali?"
"Why does it matter?" she demanded. "Please just give me it back."
She reached for it, but he took a step back. He laughed, low and mischievous.
"I will if you tell me what it stands for," he said.
For a moment Shilpa contemplated tackling him for the bracelet, but then she recalled how her skin had felt like it was on fire when he touched her and she decided it was better not to risk that again.
"It stands for Shilpa," she told him. She held out her hand. "Now can I have it back?"
Those sensual lips curved again, making her heart give a silly little skip. He lowered the bracelet a little, watching it swing slightly, the stones twinkling under the lights.
"Shilpa." The way he said her name made it sound like it was a word of devotion. Her heart gave another skip, harder this time, knocking the breath from her lungs for a second. "It's beautiful." His eyes lifted to hers and those ethereal blue depths shone with something she couldn't name. "Like you."
A shiver ran down her spine and all her nerve ends, causing every hair on the back of her neck to stand on edge. She tried to fight back the rush of anticipation that swelled in her stomach, but she couldn't; it swept through her veins, heating her skin, sending her pulse racing. She swallowed.
"I'm Armaan," he told her. "Armaan Malik."
He took a step closer and she found her legs beginning to wobble. Stop acting like a ten year old, Shilpa, she told herself sternly, but those eyes were on her face and she felt as if they were looking right through her mask, seeing all of her.
"My bracelet," she demanded, holding her hand out again. He stopped, an inch or so between them, and flashed her a gleeful grin.
"Come and get it," he told her.
Shilpa sighed, but she figured it wasn't worth her energy trying to pick a fight with him. Besides, her skin was prickling all over and butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, and she needed to get away from him so she could breathe again. The sooner she got her bracelet, the sooner she could flee. Gritting her teeth, she stepped towards him, resolutely keeping her eyes on her jewellery and not on his face. With every step she got nearer to him she could feel her heart pick up speed till it was pounding so frantically she thought it might give out on her.
She stopped, half an inch between them, and reached for her bracelet. Armaan pulled his hand back, putting it out of reach once more. Temper surged up in her and she turned her eyes to him with a glare. Only to find her mind running blank as she met those aquamarine eyes. They were so unusual, a combination of blue and grey, with little hints of green. Nobody she knew had eyes like them. And when they stared at her like that, blazing with desire, she couldn't think of anything else.
"All night I've been wondering if your face is as beautiful as your eyes," he told her. She opened her mouth, not really knowing what she planned to say to him, but she never got a chance, because the next moment he had closed the distance between them. Once more his body was pressed against hers, the warmth from his skin seeping into hers, sending her body temperature soaring. He reached out with the hand that didn't hold her necklace, his fingers brushing over her mask, sliding underneath it. Her breath tightened in her lungs and all she could do was stand there as he pushed the mask upwards, revealing her face to those hungry eyes.
I was wrong, Armaan thought dazedly as he gazed down at her; she's not beautiful, she's exquisite. Her cheekbones were high and regal, her skin flawless and milky. She was the closest thing to perfection he'd ever seen. And when those emerald eyes lifted back to his they were so deep with shyness that it made his heart ache.
"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he told her. Shilpa's heart stopped for one long minute, during which time there was nothing real to her save that strange, almost bewitched look Armaan was giving her. She felt something shivering through her skin, but it wasn't fear. It was warm and pleasurable and it made her feel light headed.
"I can't see your face," she surprised them both by saying. Armaan's eyebrows shot upwards for a moment and then those lips quirked. He pulled the mask off in one quick motion and Shilpa found herself staring at the face of an angel. His jaw was firm and strong, his cheekbones as well sculpted as that of a model, and the hair falling across his forehead gave him a strangely cherubic look. Until his eyes got that wicked twinkle in them again.
"Not bad," she heard herself say. She was shocked; she had never spoken like that in her life. But it seemed to amuse him. He flashed her that smile again and her body reacted with a sweet rush of delight. "But I still want my bracelet back."
Armaan laughed, a rich sound that wrapped around her like a summer breeze. She half expected him to jerk his hand away again, so it was a surprise when he lifted her wrist and slipped the bracelet over it. His fingers were soft and warm against her skin, the brush of them sending a million shockwaves down her nerve ends. She shivered and he noticed, his eyes lighting up with glee.
Shilpa knew she should move away, should turn and run like the wind and never look back. But she didn't. Instead she stood there while Armaan lifted his hand and gently trailed his fingers down the side of her face. His touch was tender, almost reverential, but it sent sparks shooting down through her skin. She closed her eyes, biting the inside of her lip as pleasure rushed through her bloodstream.
"I knew you'd come back," Armaan told her. When she opened her eyes she found him leaning so close his breath was fanning her lips.
"What if I hadn't noticed the bracelet was missing?" she asked.
"You still would have come back," he replied. His thumb was stroking across her chin, making it hard to remember to breathe, let alone talk. But somehow she found the words.
"But what would I have come back for? I was only looking for my bracelet."
"Maybe, but there was something else you needed to find," he told her.
"What?"
"Me," he said, right before his lips touched hers.
Hope you all liked it. Please do comment/criticise. And Sri, happy birthday once again hun! 🤗
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