FF: Seducing the Throne::NEW Thread PG 1 - Page 3

"...Gayab...as in miching?" Gasped Mamiji in exaggerated shock as unwittingly overheard, Khushi's frantic tirade to her husband, who it seemed, was effectively not only tuning out his wife's frantic tirade but simultaneously managing to continue to work ceaseless on his laptop.

Anyone who had seen them twenty years ago would hardly believe their eyes.

But that was of course until Arnav raised his head to look up at Khushi then Mamiji with a look of mild concern on his face. "Who's missing?"

Khushi who was annoyed enough at having required additional help just to get his attention on what she'd been trying to first break to him gently, then frantically shot him a quick glare before she answered him with a curt - "Your daughter."

"Aasha!!! Are you bloody MAD?" screamed Chase Wellington, in his slightly British accent, as he watched in horror as his best friend stood at the edge of the rooftop of the hotel she was staying in definitely more than a little tipsy.

Her giggled, "Nope!"  making him pray to the god's for a deliverance, at this rate she was going to get her self-killed before she went  home to Delhi, next week. And then her wonderfully even-tempered father would chase him across the world when he found he hadn't been able to stop her.

Not very logical.

But having been best friends with a Raizada for the past 4 years he had learned one thing.

A Raizada will only believe in logic when it suited them.

Otherwise...well ...prepare to be Raizada-fied.

For now he just didn't want to antagonize her, not with her about to topple over onto New York's snow covered winter streets.

"Jaaason." She caroled in her tipsy sing song voice, still balancing precariously on the edge of the rooftop.

"Oh god Aasha please get down." He begged, swearing to himself for the hundredth time never to let her near alcohol again, it had the strangest effect on the usually cool composed, individual she was.

Instead she began singing, in an awfully off-tune voice- "Teri meri meeeri teri...pweeem kahani hain majnuuur..."

Shaking his head in defeat just as he was about ready to call in security to help him with her this time, the door to the rooftop creaked open.

Damn. This was all they needed.

Tomorrow morning this would be all over the papers, Fashion Mogul's only daughter drunk on the Empire's rooftop.

Wonderful.

"Hello handsome." Called a playful Blair, waddling along in her pink slippers, as she came to great her husband.

Her husband however it seemed, as he swore under his breath and swooped her off her feet only to carry her back to bed was in a much different frame of mind, "Blair I've told you not to get up. For Christ's sake what part of bed rest do you not understand?"

Placing a quick peck on his pouting wife's lips, he shrugged out of his coat and sat down beside her, leaning down to kiss her thoroughly.

Maybe late pregnancies did have just a few perks after all.

 "No, have them cancel the 11o'clock and reschedule it for Friday." Said Damien, coolly going through the latest updates he'd been handed about the Winter-White Line's international figures.

The limo cruised to a stop, just in front  of The Empires grand gates, with a flurry of movement assailing him as he stepped out of the confines of the luxurious car, he made his way to the private elevator that lead exclusively to his Pent-House suite at the top floor.

He'd spent all day in meetings and launches, what he needed more than anything else right then was a shot of his father's favorite whiskey and the calm view that his favorite spot provided. Since he'd been an eight-year old on his own at the hotel for an hour for the very first time, he'd been drawn to the unpolished expanse of the rooftop. It felt like a sanctuary of reality where all the glitter and glamour dulled down for just a bit.

Sanctuary.

His own private sanctuary.

Or so it had been.

Until he pushed open the door to watch a frantic Ken-look-alike trying to talk a tipsy midget off the edge.

Fine maybe she wasn't an actual midget, but she was tiny.

And drunk.

Very.

Very.

Drunk.

Muttering indistinctly, under his breath he watched as the plastic-blond boyfriend look worriedly first at his teetering girlfriend and then at him.

Pathetic.

Sighing he decided to deal with the situation so that he could finally have his 10 minutes of peace, motion to Mr. Twinkle-toes to keep her attention on him, he slipped around out of her direct vision, tuning out her drunken ramblings as he inched closer to her.

Just as he was about to grab her by the waist, she turned her glazed gaze on him.

And Christ, but that woman was gorgeous.  Hazy, eyes the color of burnt honey, framed by the thickest lashes he'd seen on a girl. A pert slightly upturned nose, and rosy cheeks, flushed with the biting cold weather.

Wobbly lips wrapped around a bottle of Jack Daniel's, that smacked themselves together in satisfaction after the swig, showing off an impossibly perfect cupid's bow.

And a curtain of heavy silky black hair, cascading down her back, her entire body tilting back as if in its weight.

Her head tilted back just a little too much over the side of the walls edge - she teetered.

And then just as she would have toppled over- a firm hand landed on her wrist yanking her so that she landed unceremoniously into the waiting  arms of the infamous, Damien Bass.