-• monster •-

Yuvraaj Singh Chauhan

"So, Yuvraaj, are you coming to the grand opening of the Sehgal resorts in Ooty?"

I take my position at the tee, flexing my grip on the club before I hit the ball towards the hole. It goes in smoothly. Digging the club head into the ground, my attention shifts to the men watching me impressed of my golf skills. Even though it's been years since I stopped practicing the game, winning against these neanderthals is not that hard. You need to get that ball into the hole with one stroke and they'll look at you like you're the God of this game. "I am," I move towards the next game.

"Good," one of them laughs relaxed. "I was worried you'd take the magazine business seriously."

I glance at him, offended. Did he just insinuate my recent position as the chief editor of Icon is not as important?

He realises his mistake. "I mean, it's good that you're helping the subsidiary come out of its losses, but you're the Chairman and Managing Director of the entire conglomerate, many other important things require your attention too."

Nodding at the satisfactory explanation, I look back and resume my game.

"Do you think appointing Arush as a CEO so early in his career is a good decision?"

I shoot the ball, it stops at the expected turn and I let my feet to follow it. "Are you saying he's not as capable as I consider him to be?"

Company hangouts are the worst. Entertaining these suited up, polished men and their nonsensical questions has to be of least importance to me, but you cannot make a billion dollar business function if you refuse to cordially engage with your partners and investors outside of the workspace.

Someone else chuckles. "Mr. Jindal and his ability of choosing wrong words to frame a valid question," I eye the men in mock amusement. "What he meant was Arush is still young, and from my experience of having a son of the same age, I can guarantee you these boys think of everything but work. Becoming a CEO at this tender age might be a lot for him, especially given his past lifestyle."

"If your son is of the same age as my Arush and still not responsible, I'm sorry to say this, Mr. Mishra, but maybe you need to start disciplining him. They're not boys anymore, they're men." I hit the ball straight into the hole, regarding him with a serious look. "And men are never afraid of carrying their responsibilities." The old man clenches his jaw, forcing back a smile at me. I flash one of my own, as fake as him.

"I hope Agastya soon learns this valuable life lesson too," the man says. My smile falters. His eyes flash a cocky glint. I clutch the club tighter. "I heard he recently enrolled himself for law at JNU?"

"Yeah," I respond tightly.

"Please wish him all the best from all of us." He smiles as the remaining heads nod in synchrony.

"I will." I plaster a fake, formal smile on my face again.

"Mr. Rawal is here," Zoya notifies.

I look over my shoulder. Rudra swings his club in the air, waving at me. I close my eyes in annoyance. This man has gotten an unhealthy amount of amiable ever since he married my sister that it's almost nauseating to be in his company anymore. I grip the shaft of my club, stopping myself from hitting him straight in the head. Tara will become a widow at a young age, but she'll live. My major concern is Esther Industries that I'll have to overtake after him. I'm not looking forward to spending my old days dragging someone's deadbeat.

"What are you doing here?" I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"I was bored." He grins.

"And do I look like your personal recreational centre? Leave." I grit out.

"Oh c'mon," he swings his club to his right hand, almost slamming it in my face if I hadn't stepped back at the last minute. "I was bored. But then I remembered you."

"You didn't have to. I was very fine without you ever remembering me." I stalk towards my cart. He follows after nodding at my business associates. I thrust my golf club in the bag and slide over the seat. "I'll see you guys next week." I glance towards the men. They nod in response, diverting towards a new topic to discuss within each other.

"Are we not playing?" Rudra asks, taking a seat next to me. Zoya drives us out of the golf course. "I really wanted to play. I've never played golf before."

"It's rich people's game. Of course, you haven't played it before."

Rudra gasps. "Did you just- did you just call me poor?"

"No."

"He called me poor, didn't he?" He leans over the barricade, asking Zoya instead. She doesn't answer, so he deviates back to me. "I'm not poor, okay. I'm rich. I'm crazy rich. I'm a billionaire."

"Are you?"

He nods.

"What are you wearing?"

Rudra goes blank, his confused eyes rake down his body before rising to meet mine. "Do- Do I have to know what I'm wearing to prove that I'm rich?"

I shrug. "Rich people know what they wear."

He blinks. Then his eyes refocus on me. "What are you wearing then?"

"I'm wearing a Brunello Cucinelli custom-made t-shirt. This is Tommy Hilfiger," I show him my watch. "And my shoes are Cole Haan." I finish proudly.

He sits straight to study his own outfit, eventually taking out his phone to search on the internet. The cart stops and I step out, buttoning my blazer before moving towards the entrance doors. They slide open and I walk in, followed by my secretary and Rudra, who's still on his phone by the way.

"I don't know! Geez, this is frustrating as fuck!" He exclaims at the reception while I'm checking out for the day. I shoot him a glare. Despite being a royal, he fails to follow the basic decorum of maintaining his image. "Whatever." He shoves the phone back in his pocket. "I came all the way here to ask if you're going to that opening or not. And if you are, take me with you. I've no one to go along with."

"You're not coming with me." I state, taking back my credit card and slipping it in my wallet. Folding the leather pouch, I stow it in my blazer pocket and head towards the main entrance.

"But why not?"

"I can't be seen with you, Rudra."

"I'm no longer a secret though." He mumbles. "Take me with you, please."

I slap my hand on the roof of the car and face him. "What's wrong with you, man? Since when did you like me? We hate each other, remember?"

"We do? I thought we were pretending." He shrugs.

"Well, I wasn't. I'm still not." I emphasize.

"Fine. Hate me. But take me with you."

"You're not a child." I growl out, irritated out of bounds.

He sighs. "It's my first time attending an event with my real identity. I just want to be with someone I know. That's all."

I squint my eyes, gouging his face for a sign he's lying. "Fine." I grunt, giving in. He looks up, a smile coming over his lips. "Monday morning. 10 AM. I'll keep the jet ready. You come one minute late and I'm leaving without you." I warn him.

He nods.

"Are you bringing Taranya along?" The last time he told me she's opting out because of her work. But I'd rather she be there than handle this man alone. I haven't seen her after the housewarming party either. It'll be good to know how she's doing. We don't speak much through calls or text messages.

Rudra shakes his head. "Told you, she's busy."

"So are you bringing anyone along? Rachel?" I ask, referring to his secretary.

Something wicked flickers in his eyes. Had it been my first time meeting this man, I'd have missed it. But I've known him since he was a twelve year old kid. I know what he's thinking and what that wickedness means. "No one. I'll be alone."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"You're hiding something."

"I'm not. I'm just excited." He counters.

"For what."

He smirks. "For this trip with you."

"Fine, don't tell me. I'll find out soon."

His smirk transforms into an innocent smile. "Sure, you will."

Getting into my car, I slam the door close. Zoya settles in the passenger seat, signalling the driver to pull the car out. We drive back to Veer Mahal. I stare outside the window, thinking back on my conversation with Rudra. He's cooking something in that stupidly smart head of his. I don't know what, but I'm sure I won't be happy about it.

The car stops in the driveway of Veer Mahal. I step out and head inside the palace, stopping abruptly at the sight of my twenty-six year old brother sucking a maid's mouth in the hallway.

"Agastya!"

He sprints back.

The maid quickly wipes her mouth clean and fixes her rumpled attire. I look away in disgust.

"You- you're home early -"

"You should be at the University!" I remind him in a steely voice. "Is canoodling with a maid more important than your education!?" I ask, sheer disappointment in my tone.

He blanches.

"Go!" He makes a move to rush past me. I grab his bicep. He stills in fear, his eyes darting over his shoulder to meet mine. "And I better not see you out of your university during class hours." I warn him loud and clear. He responds with a hasty nod. "Leave." I release his arm with a shove.

As soon as he disappears through the doors, my gaze darts to the maid. She clutches the rag in her hands, wringing it between her fingers. My lips twist in a snarl. "Did you sleep with him?"

She swallows. "I-I-"

"Do not lie."

Her head drops low. She whispers yes.

"You're fired. Get your things and leave."

The discomfort that had been brewing subtly in my temples escalates into a raging headache. I throw the door of my room open and storm towards my study. Opening the drawer, I grab the first aid box, look for a plain paracetamol and swallow it with a glass of water.

I worry for Agastya the most. He's the only one among all my siblings to never take life seriously. He was good at baseball, I admit, but that's all he had surmounted his life with, and after it was gone post that tragic accident, he has been only wasting his life. I fear saying anything to him. Words of unfiltered encouragement often sound like you're pushing them to do something in life, and instead of considering that push to take a step forward, they stumble and fall. I've once seen him standing at the bridge ready to take his life, I'm not strong enough to go through that again. I've survived this far for them, with one of them gone, I'd be just a shell.

The headache just seems to be getting worse. I haven't slept good in the past few days. We had been working relentlessly to make sure we don't miss the deadlines for this month's edition, and I had so much to catch up on the side as well that I was barely able to take a nap for an hour. I know I should sleep, but the thoughts of Agastya's wasteful lifestyle will keep me awake, so trying to catch a wink of sleep will be a waste of time. Hence, I defeatedly drop in my work chair and turn on the monitor.

With the pill's help, the headache gradually subsides. I'm able to work more efficiently until the time for dinner. Agastya keeps his head down when he enters the dining hall, avoiding looking at me. I try to hold back the need to tell him off in front of his brothers. Young boys consider it scolding, men think of it as disrespectful.

We eat in silence. I get done first.

"Agastya," his head snaps up. "To my study after you finish your dinner," swallowing visibly, he nods at me in response. "I haven't heard you yet."

"Ye- Yes, Bhai."

Putting my chair back in its place, I head out, hearing Arush ask his favourite brother what he did to be summoned into the monster's den. Vivaan shushes him up, knowing I'm still in the hearing range. I pretend not to hear.

Monster. That's what they think of me.

I can't blame them, can I? I have painted my image as such, it'd be stupidly hopeful of them to still search for good in me. It's better this way. Vivaan is who they need to look for when they seek a dependable, sensitive, emotional brother to lean on. I can only fulfill their basic needs, that's all.

Smiling mirthlessly, I ignore my obvious discomfort towards the word and head towards my bedroom. Work absorbs me. Thoughtless of my personal life, I lose myself in the endless loop of work.

Agastya comes thirty minutes later. Chin dropped low, he slinks in and stops behind the visitors' chair, holding the top back of it as he stands like a domesticated lamb, as if I'd slauther him any minute. That's how they always look like when they talk to me, fuck that, even glance my way. Like I'm always on a lookout for an opportunity to make their lives living hell.

"Do you harbour any emotional feelings towards that maid, or was it just physical?"

"Physical," he mutters.

"You broke rules, were openly caught fraternising with a maid because you wanted nothing but sex with her?" I ask in disgust. "If it was only physical, what happened to the endless list of girls of your status and rank? Why a maid? Why would you jeopardize my reputation just because you wanted to stick your nether regions inside a maid's body!? What if she gets pregnant!? What if she spreads rumours about you?" I get up, my hands slamming with impact on the desk, body hunched over as I glare at him.

He flinches back.

"Why are you like this, Agastya!?" I growl out. "You're a twenty six year old man! When will you act like one? When will you acknowledge your responsibilities and consider yourself accountable for them!?"

"I'm- I'm sorry." That's all he offers. Because that's all he has to offer. I sit back in the chair, holding my head as the ache in my temples return.

"I can't even say anything to you, afraid that one wrong word and you'll try to take your-" I cut myself off in reflex. "Just leave. Go."

"I'm sorry." He whispers and walks out of my study.

Moments like these remind me of Tara's presence, because it's in the moments like these that her absence becomes unbearable. My eyes land on my phone and I hesitate. Even if I call her, what would I say? We're not used to acting like brother and sister. That's Vivaan's forte. He can be a mature older brother one minute and playful, typical sibling the next.

My phone lets out a shrill noise. I startle and pick it up. I go stiff reading Taranya's name on the screen. Why is she calling me? Is she okay?

Answering the call, I press the phone to my ear.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She chuckles. "Yes, Bhai, I'm fine."

I take a relieved breath.

"Well, what is it?"

"I heard Rudra convinced you to take him along to that hotel opening?"

I hum.

"Good. Thank you. He had been eating my head since last week. By the way, what are you doing? Had your dinner?"

"Yeah," I answer. "Is that all you called me for?"

She huffs. "No, I called because I'm missing you guys. I'm stopping by next Monday but since you'll be in Ooty, I figured I should talk to you before you leave."

I nod. She can't see me, but what could I even say to that?

"Fine. You must be busy. I won't disturb you. Bye!"

Hesitance strings me back, I end up saying, "Good night."

"Geez, you don't have a single affectionate bone in your body. How do you survive? Are you even a human?"

I blink. "Bye, Taranya."

She scoffs. "Bye. I'm never calling you again!" She hangs up.

I put the phone down and resume my work. The remainder of the week passes by quickly. Not stopping publication on our end might have ended up being a risky move if our magazines weren't received with such vigour and love. As soon as they were emptied on the racks and shelves, another stock of ten thousand copies were sent out immediately, and all of this in just less than a week. If this continues, we'll soon hit the expected target of two hundred thousands.

"We should celebrate!" Radhika announces Monday morning. "Please, sir, this deserves a celebration." The team looks at me expectantly.

I look towards Mrs. Bose. "Book them a private dining hall at our hotel. The dinner's on me tonight." I say to them.

Their faces light up and they cheer among themselves.

"You're coming too, sir, aren't you?" Radhika asks me.

I shake my head.

"But-"

"I've a flight to take in an hour. So if anything, I should be on move right now. But have fun, I expect you to be on your desks working towards next month's edition when I return. Excuse me." Ignoring the sullen faces, I leave the editorial department and get into the elevator.

Zoya waits for me near my private jet. "Is Rudra already here?" I ask upon getting out of my car.

Surprisingly, she appears nervous. "Zoya?"

"He has brought someone along." She points over her shoulder.

I raise a brow. "Who?"

"I'd rather you check yourself." She steps aside.

I take the stairs and board the plane into an elegant entranceway, stepping onto a marble floor inlaid with a medallion mosaic and surrounded by gold columns. A sliding door opens to the main lounge, lined by luxurious cream sofas facing inwards on both sides. Two people sitting on my left capture my attention immediately, one of them sticks out as a sore thumb.

Sara Rajawat.