Imlie could barely catch her breath. "This piece will be restricted to observations." No speculations.

His snort was scathing.

"I mean it! I'm reporting on the importance of the Rana heir & legacy..."

"My nephew." Mera bhanja.

She bit down on her lip, something about the phrase so utterly humanising that she saw a glimpse of Aryan as he'd been before. As he'd been five years ago when they were falling in love and everything had seemed so much simpler.

"In an abstract sense, yes. But the article won't hurt... I haven't written anything like that piece since I left The Bhaskar Times. Maine waisa socha tak nahi hai."

Another snort, this time rich with disbelief.

"I mean it.. Main ab waise articles nahi likhti, Aryan! You can have a look online and see – I give gossip and cheap speculation a wide berth these days, believe me."

'Agar mujhse kabhi koi galti ho gayi toh?'

"Believe you? Not for a billion dollars. Tumpe yakeen karne se behtar main mar jaana pasand karoonga. Oh wait.. Yakeen karne ke baad bhi wahin sila hota hai!"

'Tum phir bhi meri hi rahogi.'

She tried not to show how much his words had hurt, but they clawed into her soul like rabid tigers.

"That's your prerogative." She said with her head held as high as she could muster. "But now, I really must be getting back to work." Waise bhi yahaan hamaare liye bacha hi kya hai?

Aryan's laugh was almost genuine. He dragged a hand over his jaw and shook his head, fixing her once more with his direct gaze. "You aren't going anywhere near my sister, nor her husband. In fact, tum iss jagah pe bhi ek second aur nahi rehne wali ho. You hear that? You aren't staying in this state or this mansion for another minute."

Imlie's mouth gaped while she tried to collect her thoughts.

Taking advantage of her palpable surprise, Aryan curved a palm around her elbow and began to guide her down the stairs. But at the first landing, she whipped around, pulling out of his touch.

"Stop. You can't be serious about this! I'm sorry for what I did five years ago, Aryan. If I could take it back, I would. But my feeling sorry doesn't equate to you getting to frog-march me out of here. I'm here with a valid work license, and you have no authority here – not over me, or anyone."

"True." He said, so smoothly that for a second she was mollified. "But my brother-in-law's authority is absolute and you had better believe he despises you as much as I do."

Imlie's stomach squeezed tight. The CEO of Prasad Industries was young and vibrant, but there was an inherent power to him that made Aryan's statement disconcerting.

"He adores my sister and would put you in prison before he lets you cause her a moment's harm or worry. Tumhe khatam karne ke liye unhe do second bhi nahi lagenge!"

Now Imlie began to tremble properly. "Ours is a civilized country." She said weakly. "I have rights!"

"Regardless of what you might think about our country's 'civilisation', He is not a man to let anyone harm his family – and you've already done plenty of that. Aur Imlie, zaroori nahi hai ki kisi ki duniyaa jalaane ke liye har baar aag ki zaroorat pade."

"I told you, I'm not here to hurt your sister! Main tumhe kaise samjhaoon? Aisi kaunsi bhasha mein kahoon ki tum meri baatein sunn pao?"

"Kuch mat bolo, because anything that comes out of your mouth is not something I find easy to believe." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But if you'd prefer, I can take you to him to plead your case."

Imlie's body sagged. "You can't be serious?"

"Why ever not? You're only writing a harmless piece, after all. He could give you an interview.."

"Stop it!" She said.

"Or.." Aryan continued with a thread of danger in his voice. "He might put you in prison and throw away the key."

Imlie swept her eyes shut and now, she recognized the futility of her predicament. She wouldn't be able to stay in the mansion any longer. She'd have to go. "Fine." She muttered, her eyes unknowingly bleak when they met his. "I'll leave."

"You think I'd simply let you walk away from this?" 

"What do you mean?"

"After everything you did, you think I'd trust you? You've been working on this piece for God knows how long – no way do you get to ride off into the sunset and churn out some harmful, vindictive rubbish about Arpita and my nephew. Tumhe kya laga ki tumhaari rag-rag se waakif hone ke baad main tumhaare liye red carpet biccha ke tumhe yahaan se ruksat karoonga?"

She resisted the temptation to tell him she wasn't writing anything harmful at all – he clearly wasn't going to believe her. "Well, you've made it pretty darned obvious I can't stay here, so where do you expect me to go." Tum mujhe yahaan rehne nahi doge aur mere paas rukne ki koi wajah nahi hai.

"You're coming with me." He growled. "And you're staying with me until I can be sure you've given up any idea of ever writing another word about me, my family, or anyone remotely connected to us. Jab tak tumhaare mann se iss article ke idea ko main katt ke nahi phek doon, tab tak tum mere saath hi rahogi, got it?"

Imlie shook her head, so that her dark brown hair fell from behind the head scarf she wore. "Nahi.. Kabhi nahi!"

Aryan's eyes met the challenge in hers. "That wasn't an invitation."

"And my answer wasn't negotiable. Main yahaan se chali jaungi. Mumbai.. I'll go back to Mumbai. But I wouldn't go anywhere with you – even if my life depended on it. Main tumhaare saath kahin nahi jaungi, do you hear me? Kahin nahi!"

"Perhaps I'm not making myself clear.." Aryan murmured with a dangerous edge to the words. "If you do not come with me, I'll turn you and your recording device over to the security. And as far as I know, trespassing a private property is a serious offence. I wasn't kidding about Rana locking you up and throwing away the key – and he'd do so with the full support of the government or the courts.. Whichever you think is within your reach."

Her breathing was uneven and she reached for the railing to steady herself. "Tum aisa nahi kar sakte ho. Uss article ke baare mein tumhara gussa jaayaz hai, and I understand that. I really do. But threatening me now is beneath you, Aryan. You're bluffing."

"You're welcome to test that theory."

She couldn't see clearly – she had no idea what to say or do. Though India was progressive, the Rana's royalty was an institution that the people guarded with their lives, and Imlie didn't really doubt that her presence would be made punishable under some law or another – despite how innocent her intentions were. But would Aryan really dob her in?

"I don't believe you!" She said weakly, after several tense moments.

"Then walk away and see how far you get."

She closed her eyes, her body aching, her mind numb. Silence stretched between them, but it was heavy with acceptance. Because she couldn't call his bluff – she didn't dare.

"Tum.. Tum mujhe.. Where would you send me?"

His look was one of triumph; it flared in his eyes and made her ache to say something, anything, to pull the plug on his gloating look of success.

"You don't need to know where. Just be grateful I'm getting you out of here before anyone discovers who you really are."

~o~

"Apna scarf sambhaalo!" Aryan muttered, a hand in the small of her back, guiding her across the courtyard, towards a fleet of expensive vehicles. As they neared a guard, Imlie's pulse ratcheted up at least a dozen gears, so that she was a throbbing mess of pounding blood.

She did as he said, arranging the scarf around her hair and cheeks, keeping her head dipped forward as an added precaution. It wasn't as though the sight of her should alert anyone as to her true reason for coming to the mansion, but Imlie wasn't a fool. Aryan had put the fear of God into her heart with his threat and suddenly she was desperate to be away from everything, before anyone discovered her ruse.

"What the hell were you thinking? Do you even know ki yeh kitna bewakoofana kaam tha?" Aryan asked with a shake of his head as they came closer to some guards. "You must have known the risks involved here.."

Imlie hadn't thought about anything other than Aryan – she hadn't thought about the fact that the Arpita and her husband knew who Imlie was – and had every reason to think as ill of her as Aryan did. She thought only of Aryan, and of her desire to prove to herself that she was over him completely – and over her shame at what she'd done.

"I was only supposed to be here two days. Maine nahi socha tha ki.."

"That's damned obvious." He interrupted, sending her a scathing look. "Now, be quiet."

They drew up beside the guards and if they were at all surprised to see their owner escorting a servant from the mansion, they knew better than to voice that to Aryan.

He spoke in an effortless but commanding way, and Imlie had no choice but to stand mutely beside him, hoping that he wasn't, in fact, doing as he'd threatened and dobbing her in.

Her heart was in her throat, fear spreading through her veins, but it wasn't really fear of what Aryan might say or do.

She had loved him and she had trusted him and nothing had changed for Imlie with the passage of time. She couldn't simply cease to trust him now, just because he obviously despised her.

"This way." He guided her to a car at the top of the line. The guard pulled the door open and Imlie held her breath, anxiety taking over her central nervous system.

"In." Aryan commanded, and she wondered then how she'd never seen this autocratic side of him before.

Their relationship hadn't been like that – it hadn't been defined by his dominance or her subservience. They'd simply fit together – as equals. 50-50.

She suppressed a moan of despair as she did as he'd said, sliding into the back of the beautiful limousine.

There was no opportunity to catch her breath. Aryan was right behind her, his broad frame making the spacious interior seem crowded and confined.

Any comment Imlie might have made was swallowed by the ferocious look on his face.

He was furious – furious with her, full of hatred and rage. And the worst part was, she couldn't blame him.

She snapped her seatbelt into place and stared out of the window with a sinking heart. The article hadn't been written by her, in the end, but Imlie could still recite it word for word. She'd read it with a mixture of outrage and despair.

The details of Shekhawat Pharmaceutical's many dealings, many offences; Arvind Shekhawat's predilection for bribery, his habit of recording only a certain amount of his income during tax filing. These were all details that, while profiteering, Imlie had never had any intention of using. So why the hell had she made the notes? Why hadn't she let Aryan unburden himself and be done with it?

He'd been speaking to her as a man to a woman, as a man who wanted to – no, needed to – unload, and damn it, she should have left it at that.

But her training was ingrained. She recorded everything, even when she'd had no intention of using it. What an idiotic decision!

"I was very sorry to hear about Arvind." She whispered, unable to meet his eyes, so not seeing the intensity of his stare, the way his gaze roamed her face as though he might find answers there to questions he didn't know how to pose.

"I told you, mujhe koi maafi nahi sunn-ni.. Kyunki woh toh main tumhe khairakh mein bhi na doon. And for the last time, I don't want to talk about him with you."

Silence resumed, save for the low, enigmatic purr of the car's engine. She watched the view through the window change as the car slid away from the mansion, towards the city, and at the last moment, detouring towards the airport.

He was doing what he'd promised – taking her away. Getting her out of this country before anyone could learn who she was.

It was a kindness, she supposed, and more than she had any right to expect from him.

"Where are we going to?" She risked a look at him now and caught his face in a brooding scowl.

He didn't speak, so she wondered if he'd even heard her.

"Aryan? Hum kahan jaa rahe hain?"

He dragged his flinty stare to her eyes. "Somewhere I can keep an eye on you."

A frisson of warning ran down her spine. "You don't need to.."

"I need to make sure you don't write another word about my family."

'Main koi bhi galti dobara nahi karta.'

"I told you, it's not about your family. It's a general piece, about the Ranas & Rathores, the changes that a new heir will bring..."

'Agar ho gayi toh?'

"I don't believe you." He said with a shake of his head.

'Tum ho na, meri har galti ko sudhaarne waali!'

Sadness punctured Imlie's heart. His cynicism was only natural. "Toh tumhaare liye kya solution hai? Mujhe kidnap karna?"

His brows shot up and then he smiled, but it was a smile devoid of any humour or pleasure. "Until I think of another solution."

The car drew to a halt and a quick look out the window revealed they were on a tarmac, a sleek jet in front of them bearing the insignia of R.E. – Rathore Enterprises.

"Aryan." The word was a strained husk. "Just send me home.."

'Accha, chalo.. Ab mujhe jaana hoga!'

A muscle throbbed in the base of his jaw and then one of the passenger doors was pulled open. "I wish I could, believe me."

'Kaash main tumhe rok sakta!'

He stepped out of the car, so Imlie was alone, and she sat there, breathing in, trying to find a sense of calm when her insides were swimming with doubts and confusions. Fear, as well, because she was leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

But what choice did she have?

Aryan held all the trump cards and he was using them with ruthless efficiency. If she refused to go with him, there was a guard behind the wheel of the car. She was still in Delhi, with her assignment notes on the digital recorder in her pocket. The risks were as real here as they had been at the mansion.

She had to leave the country – no matter where she ended up. It wasn't like Imlie hadn't had to dig herself out of messes before – she'd manage to do so again.

Steeling her nerves, she slid from the car, refusing to show an ounce of the emotional trepidation that had settled in her gut.

Aryan was angry with her, but she knew the truth at the centre of his being: he was a good man, and he would make good decisions. He couldn't help but do so – it was who he was.