My Ruination

Chapter 19.

~Maahira~

I gazed up at that painting, breathing in the soft scent of oil paintings and tranquility in the museum and convention center. It tickled something inside me, brought me a kind of numbness, I happily welcomed. If I had my own money, not the one from my father's trust fund, I would have bought this painting the day Benoit had revealed this but I don't. But someday, I was going to get this painting back to me with my own money.

"c'est quoi ce bordel, what do you mean all my paintings are sold out?" Benoit's voice echoed around the museum, breaking me out of my trance as I turned to face them. Benoit looked on the verge of a breakdown as my friend, Rebecca, rubbed his arm, both of them glaring down at his publicist - a timid, redheaded woman who looked like she was ashamed when she clearly had nothing to do with whatever had happened. "Look, the museum authorities are not going to reveal who the buyer is, but the person has paid a good sum for your hardwork."

"This was not about the money, Monica. It was about publicity and exposure. An auction would have brought in all the generationally wealthy families here and the media." He grumbled, his French accent getting sharper by the minute. Me and my other friends, Jeenie and Tristan headed towards them as Monica apologetically said, "I am sorry, I cannot do anything about the auction now. It's canceled. But I can make sure the paintings reach the interested buyers as promised."

"I don't understand...this is crappp." Benoit struggled to accept the fact, nodding his head in denial as we surrounded them. "Someone anonymously bought all the 10 paintings and paid the amount in full?" Tristan questioned, his brows furrowed in doubt. "Yes, the higher-ups are in the middle of transferring all the money to Benoit as we speak." Monica promised.

"They are no aristocrate, they just sabotaged me and my career." Benoit wailed, tears threatening to flow down his cheeks. Benoit was giving too much credit to guests from familes like mine. The media outlets would write a boring article with just the prices they were sold at and the rich, old men would make him a passing conversation at work dinner. So apart from the fact that he was being slightly dramatic, I don't think the loss was that huge. His paintings have reached an enthusiastic buyer who has not tried to steal or take advantage of an artist. But why not do this publicly after the auction started? This was why no other guests or reporters from news outlets could be seen other than us 5 friends.

The museum manager walked into the gallery, his polished shoes clacking the marble as he paused right before us and enthusiastically reached out for a handshake with Benoit. He reluctantly shook hands with him as the manager went off, "In my 25 years of working as an art-show manager and publicist, I have never seen something like this happening. Congratulations, Benoit, great work." He paused, letting the words hang heavy and be soaked, before he continued, "Now, we are launching one more artist today and he is not as lucky as you are. So...we can meet another time or would you like to stay?" He said but the question was rhetorical. It was just a polite way if saying, 'Get out of here before I call my guards in'.

"No, thank you." Benoit gritted out aggressively as Tristan, Jeenie and I wrapped him in a hug. Benoit and Rebecca were the first to leave, followed by Tristan and Jeenie but as soon as I was about to leave, the manager blocked my path, also raising his right arm to the side to prevent me from going around. Tristan and Jeenie turned around when they realized and headed back for me.

"I am sorry, Ma'am, but I cannot let you leave." The manager said, a formal smile pasted on his face in an utterly creepy manner. "What is that supposed to mean?" I bited out, making sure my voice denotes every bit of alarm I feel at his demand. "Yeah, not let her leave? What the fuck is going to do here? Pose as the Monalisa?" Jeenie said, and signalled with her hands for me to come anyway, "Let's go, Maahi."

"It means that I am under a different set of orders for her and if I don't follow them, I will be losing my job." The manager said without any contempt or harshness. This was smelling very fishy and now that I searched around, it was even more weird. Markov was always following me around, but perfectly hidden in the background. If he ever so much sensed a little issue, he jumped right in to my rescue, even when I have clarified multiple times, that I am not a damsel in distress.

"If you could follow me, we need to be at the terrace of this building." He said and pointed the way towards the elevators. Yeah, he was absolutely under no orders to take me to the rooftop. This was some elaborate scheming, a trap being set and waiting for me to walk right in. "I am not sure you understand what exactly you're asking of me but if you do not move away right this minute, we will be going to the rooftop for very different reasons." I said. Was I really starting to dish out death threats I didn't even mean literally?

The manager bowed his head down and let out a hefty breath, muttering something like, "He said this was going to happen." He raised his head and shoved his hand in his pockets to pulled out a sharp scalpel, which I am guessing was used for sculpting. He opened his palm to me, giving me the scalpel and said, "If I make you feel threatened even for a minute, you can stab me with this. And now that we have witnesses, I wouldn't dare attempt anything." I casted a confused look at him before accepting the scalpel and holding it exactly like a weapon.

"You can't be considering this manipulative bastard, Maahi. This is such a bad idea." Tristan argued and I couldn't second-guess that. This was the worst idea but the desperation on the man was real. He really looked like he wasn't enjoying this either, being seen from a rapist to a serial killer. Besides, I don't need a scalpel to defend myself. My brother had taught me enough self-defense to hurt this mam in a way that makes him surgically remove his balls.

"It's okay, I will call you guys incase anything happens. Goodbye." We bid adieu as I followed the manager towards the elevator. The elevator ride was silent and grim, with him standing before me and I watched the floor numbers increasing slowly with hyperfocused attention. What was supposed to happen once we reached the terrace? What could possibly be so important to be conducted here? What if this was a trap afterall, and someone there was waiting with guns?

The doors to the elevator slid open and the manager does not step out, placing his hands near the doors to keep them from shutting and good thing he did because I was too shocked to step out. There was a whole helipad built on the terrace and a helicopter waited at it's designated spot. It was the colour of the darkest shade of black with streaks of red and gray on some parts. And Zaeden was waiting right near the gate of the cockpit, his hands leisurely shoved in his pockets as he watched me. He was the one who had planned all of this? The person who gave the orders to this manager?

Kaushal & Co. was stamped on the gates of the helicopter in white as I stepped out of the elevator, a little too awestruck to accept. The door of the elevator shut behind me, leaving the two of us alone with the elephant in the room. Zaeden does not rush me or show his annoyance at my lack of eagerness to approach him. He just stares at with a usual sombre expression.

I walked towards him, my steps slow and calculated. I am not scared but just pleasantly surprised. I was born in a rich family, money has always impressed me but my father does not own a helicopter, and even without that, he has never really bothered showing any grand gestures for me. I was just surviving in that house and I was grateful for that. But this... I wasn't used to. The man, I had nothing to do with, showing up with a helicopter headed to God knew where.

He frowned suddenly, his eyes narrowing down at the scalpel clutched tightly in my hands, seeming a little bemused by it. He straightened up, walking towards me and gently pried the scalpel off my hands and throwing it faraway from the helipad. Our eyes met and he held my gaze, the greens in his amber flashing violently as if reassuring that I do not have stay on guard, that I am not reaching to any of those conclusions I thought. And I couldn't help but relax.

He opened the door for me and I stepped in, pushing myself up on the beams as he shut the door and went around the front, to sit on the pilot's side of the cockpit. "Wait, you're flying this?" I said, and he gave me a scorching look and reached over to put my seat belts on. He pulled two seat belts from the either side of my hips and connected the two of them at the center, below my stomach as he grazed my bare thighs. I sucked in a deep breath as he pulled another seat belt from the left side of my head and pulling it along my front to lock it at the center, his knuckles grazing just above my breasts.