Circle of Trust

Chapter 12

His office was the last place Varun wanted to be. Tapping his mobile on the desk, he swiveled his chair to look out the glass wall of his office. The view was spectacular. His partner and he had shelled out a crazy amount to secure the top level floor facing the sea. They had worked to build this place ground up over the last 8 years.

He had the business magnates like Singhanias and the Rathods to thank for his firm’s rapid rise in the industry. For every obstacle they erected, he had pushed doubly hard to overcome them. Infact, with the help of Hari, he had managed to always leap five steps ahead of competition.

All this meant nothing without Naina by his side. She was upset with him. He laughed self-mockingly. Upset did not begin to describe what she must have felt when she realized what he had suspected her of and it was his fault. He had to fix it.

Their team had bagged a prestigious contract this morning – the news, while exhilarating, did not make him reach for the champagne. Naina’s presence next to him, her lopsided grin, the sparkle in her eyes, or even a chaste kiss on his cheeks would have.  He ran his hands over his face and massaged his temples.

“Sir.” Carla poked her head inside.

“Not now, Carla.”

“I’m afraid I can't stall him anymore, Sir.”

Varun shut his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and swiveled around. “Who?”

“Mr. Singhania. He…well his secretary, has been calling every half an hour since 8 this morning.”

“8? Who comes that early to office?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I do, Sir,” admitted Carla, self-consciously.

“Oh. Good. Good. Yeah. Put him on,” he said, tightening his tie. “Let’s not stall the bastard anymore,” he mumbled beneath his breath.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rathod,” Singhania greeted over the phone.

His deliberate use of his father’s surname riled Varun. Replacing the phone on the receiver without a word, he stormed out of his office straight to Carla’s desk in the reception. He ignored the greetings of his staff and rested his hands on his secretary’s desk, glaring at her.

“If you ever transfer a call to me that is meant for Mr. Rathod, you are fired.”

Carla paled. “Sir, but…”

“Is that clear,” he repeated, each word an icicle dart.

“Yes, Sir.”

The phone rang but both of them couldn’t move from their rigid stances. Carla was the first to tear her gaze away from her boss. She picked up the phone and spoke, her voice measured.

“Mr. Singhania,” she said, handing the phone to Varun.

He snatched it from her hands, replaced it, and put the speaker on.

“Mr. Rajawat speaking,” he barked.

A hush fell over the room. Hands on his hips, half a tilt of his head and a raised brow – that’s all it took for his staff to scatter to their respective places.

“Throw a surname away, but you can’t deny your blood, Mr. Rajawat,” chuckled Singhania.

“Not in a mood for mind games, Basalt. What the hell do you want now?”

Carla moved away from her desk, leaving her chair clear for him to sit. Varun shook his head. He needed to tower over the creep; sitting, however straight, in a chair wouldn’t help his simmering blood.  

“It’s about what you want, son. Looks like you haven’t taken my request seriously.”

“What’re you on about?”

“How did your little talk with your mother go?” Singhania asked casually, but it didn’t fool Varun.

Varun ground his teeth and met Carla’s look of surprise. Yeah, he and her both! Their minds had to match Basalt’s level of deviousness to figure out how he knew about that. If Singhania knew about that, he knew about the outcome as well so Varun decided to keep mum.

“Not so well, I guess. Infact, a little birdie informed me, your mother is looking to turn the monstrosity you call your mansion into rubble by the end of the week.”

“I don’t think so,” denied Varun, but his expression was one of disbelief.

There was no way his mother would act so fast. For the last few months, she had been incapable of deciding between coffee or tea with breakfast.

“You don’t think....” Singhania’s laughter, a distinct ring of mockery, filled the room. “I know. I don’t work on probables or guesses, son - a reason why I’ll always stay ahead of you, no matter how fast and steep you climb.”

Leaning forward, Varun thumped the desk with his open palms. His muscles corded into tight knots, rage coursing through his veins.

“You defeated him, not me. Don’t even mistake me for him – a blunder that’ll claim your final fall, no matter how hard you cling to the top,” Varun’s menacing voice had Carla take a hasty step back.

“Your father was more of a businessman than you are.”

“Yes. Don’t ever forget that,” warned Varun with a snicker.

He straightened and adjusted his tie, his interest in the conversation waning faster than a sinking sun at dusk.

“I want the mansion intact, Varun. Not a scratch on it or the deal’s off. Don’t think there are consequences. Know there will be. A price you wouldn’t want to pay.”

“Why the obsession with the mansion, Basalt? Rubble should suit you fine. Another multiplex, a health retreat for the rich and the famous…”

“There you go, guessing again. Nasty habit, son. It’ll be your downfall, mark my words.” Singhania’s pointed jabs were getting on Varun’s nerves.

“I don’t give a fig what you do with it. That place has never done anything good for anyone. I would give it to you right away if it were upto me. You both deserve each other.”

“Well, it’s a matter of opinion. I know someone who loves it the way it is,” Singhania sounded nostalgic.

Long after the telephone call ended, that sentence prickled Varun. Something about it unsettled him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling off.

He was driving home, his knuckles wound tight around the steering wheel. His mother better have some explanations ready for leaving him out of such an important decision. She was ready to demolish her home, the one she so passionately defended that very morning. Just like that. Who would have guessed?

Naina.

Had his mother spoken to his wife? Taken her advice? That would explain a lot.  

His mother was incapable of independent decision. At least, not recently.  

Not this past three months.

The memories of not long ago resurfaced, momentarily blinding Varun. He swerved off the highway at a deadly speed, and by some miracle, pulled the car to a stop a second before it would have toppled off the rocky banks of a canal.

Shaking uncontrollably, he wound his clammy fingers tight around the hand break, his eyes slightly unfocussed.

But, his thoughts were crystal clear – no, his mother was incapable of taking such a decision on her own.

Not since she found her husband hanging from the ceiling of one of the dozen bedrooms that housed the monstrosity called the Rathod Mansion.

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Hi guys,

Sorry for the short update. Since the scene changes after this, I thought it wise to stop here.

Please let me know what you think of the story so far. It is extremely encouraging to read your comments. Please don't forget to vote. It helps the story reach a bigger audience.

Neeru <3