Lost is a story of love, betrayal, honour, revenge, and everything in between. It’s also a love story that sets fire to the world they live in leaving them with no choice but to rise from the ashes anew…

Lieutenant Rahul Jaishankar of the Indian Navy is a man of honour, principles and commitment. His love for his family, his ethics, and his integrity is only eclipsed by his love for his country. He has no time or space to love anything or anyone else. Until the day Ayaana Sahni explodes into his life. Suddenly, she’s all he can think of, all he can hope for, all he dreams of, awake or asleep…

But Ayaana isn’t a dream he can afford to have. She’s an illusion. Ayaana Sahni is actually Aarushi Mittal. And Aarushi Mittal wants only one thing…Vengeance. And no man, not even one as deliciously gorgeous as Lieutenant Rahul was going to get in her way.

An award winning, intrepid journalist, Aarushi spends most of her life abroad working on the kind of devastating stories that the world would never hear of if not for people like her. But it has come at the cost of her personal life, at the cost of time with family, and at the heartbreaking cost of her friend’s devastating tragedy.

Aarushi needs to atone for her negligence, she needs to right the wrongs done in her absence, and she needs to make the villain in her friend’s story pay. What she really needs to make that happen is a way into the tightly knit community of the Indian Navy and Lieutenant Rahul Jaishankar is it. And if that means there is some collateral damage along the way, then so be it. Even if the collateral being damaged makes her yearn for dreams that don’t exist. Surely, the Lieutenant would understand, wouldn’t he?

Aarushi isn’t built for love. She’s built to burn down the world for her loved ones instead. So what if this man makes her want things she’s never wanted? So what if this man makes her heart ache for something she’ll never have? So what if, suddenly, this man is all she wants?

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Read an Excerpt from Lost

“So no women,” Paul asked again, after the server took down the order and left. 

“No women,” Rahul confirmed. “I’m done with them.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” A husky voice intruded on their conversation.

Rahul glanced up and he could have sworn time stood still. 

Huge eyes lined with kajal and framed by the longest eyelashes in existence gazed down at him. Her right eyebrow was pierced and had a tiny silver ring with a star dangling from it. A pert little nose, lush, pouty lips lined in a bold red, and a heart shaped chin topped by shoulder length hair with green tips, she was dramatic, different and dangerous. All in capital letters. 

“Told you to look,” Paul murmured as Rahul continued to gape at the vision in front of him. 

They got to their feet. Rahul a lot more slowly, because it felt like the ground beneath his legs was strangely unsteady. 

“Ma’am,” he said quietly, grateful his voice at least was steady. 

“Ayaana,” she said in reply. “My name is Ayaana Sahni.” 

“Lieutenant Rahul Jaishankar,” he replied. “And my friend and colleague, Lieutenant Paul Alvares.” 

She smiled, a slow, slight tilting of her lips. Her eyes darkened as she stared at him. He felt the effect of that smile in the pit of his stomach. Heat consumed him, making him shove suddenly shaky hands into his trouser pockets. 

“Are you sure you’re off women, Lieutenant?” she asked, her voice sounding like the sweet, hot slide of whiskey over ice, the clink of crystal against polished stone. 

Rahul felt like she’d poured that whiskey down his throat and flicked a lit match in after it. His entire body felt like dry tinder at a bonfire. 

Was he sure? No, he wasn’t. As he locked eyes with the woman, Rahul Jaishankar was sure of only one thing. Tonight was going to change everything.

A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.

She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.

An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.

Contact the Author:
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A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.

She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.

An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.

Contact the Author:
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Everyone knew that when she stepped up to the crease, she always came out swinging…

Tara Wadhwa, Captain of the Indian Women’s Cricket team, was living the dream. She got to play the sport she loved and to live close to her friends, the family of her heart. But when her friends start to fall in love, a sliver of loneliness works its way into her heart pushing her to make a reckless mistake.
Nikhil Upadhyay, owner of a pristine reputation and the nation’s best fixer, is called in to save the day. Fix Tara’s reputation and babysit her till she brings home the World Cup. A dream assignment for a man who otherwise spent way too much time cleaning up far messier situations. Until he met his newest client and the dream turned into a nightmare…
Can Tara work past her childhood grooming to see that there could be a life beyond the game? Can Nikhil see the value of the girl behind the polished façade he was working on presenting to the world? And will the two of them ever stop fighting long enough to allow their simmering attraction a chance to come out and play?

For when the Bad Girl met the Good Boy, she realised, that just this once, she wanted to let her inner ‘wicked’ out to play. And we all know what happens when Tara Wadhwa steps up to the crease…

Book Links:
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Reads an Excerpt from Bad Girl Gone Wicked

She slunk out, her face set in mutinous lines, accepting the plate with her omelette from me. I served myself, deliberately keeping conversation non-existent until a few morsels of egg hit her stomach.
I’d just sat down across from her when I saw her wince and massage her temples. A killer hangover, I was sure. Reaching for my laptop bag, I pulled out a strip of over-the-counter painkillers and slipped it to her.
She stared at it like I’d handled her a rattlesnake but took it without comment, swallowing a tablet without water. The pain must be truly intense.
I picked up my own plate, thinking maybe now would be a good time to discuss my game plan. “So-”
“You’re going to die of a heart attack,” she announced.
My fork froze halfway to my mouth. “Is that a wish or a prophecy or…?”
“You can’t eat like that.” She pointed her own fork at my plate.
I glanced down at my fried eggs sunny side up with their sides of mashed potatoes and bacon. I was a relatively calm and amiable sort, but this woman seemed to have only one setting; irritating.
“You’re going to die,” she announced again, finally managing to get on even my last nerve. “Don’t eat that.”
I should stay calm, I thought, reminding myself of the fat pay packet the hot mess sitting across from me was going to earn me.
“Don’t eat that,” she repeated loudly.
To hell with it. I picked up a sliver of bacon and popped it in my mouth, holding her irate gaze. Either I’d die of a heart attack, or she’d kill me with a stroke from high blood pressure. So be it.
At least I’d go with bacon in my mouth. I made it a point to chew extra hard and extra loudly when it came to the crunchy bits. 

A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.

She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.

An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.

Contact the Author:
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"A charming read with characters who come to life on the page—and who live for a cause whose urgency shines through the story." – Booklife Review

Tessa Walker is a veterinarian with a strong, emotional connection to animals. As a teen, she witnessed the brutal slaughter of dolphins, and as an adult, she decides to do something about it. She leaves her home in Los Angeles and travels to Japan to speak out for them, but little does she know that she is embarking on an adventure that will change her life forever. From the urban metropolis of Tokyo to the historic Kyoto to the culinary city of Osaka, and the seaside town of Taiji, Tessa is determined to help Japanese activists stand up for her beloved mammals.

Along the way, the friendships and bonds that she builds with people in Japan, and the unconditional love of a stranger named Toshiro, open her eyes to a complicated society of conventions and traditions. Yet, her limited knowledge of the language and customs doesn't deter her from taking on a dangerous mission that could land her in jail.



Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt from The American Outsider

By the next afternoon, Tessa had already put the disastrous birthday party behind her. She realized that all her worries, concerns, and preparation for the dinner party—learning the proper things to say and do, choosing the right gift and gift wrap, dressing conservatively, and not expressing her true feelings—did not matter. The Yokoyamas had made up their minds to dislike her before they had even met her. Tessa had discussed this with Akira in the morning, and Akira reminded her that she had come to Tokyo to help save the dolphins, not worry about the opinions of others. “We are in this together for the long haul, and we both need to develop thicker skins if we want to survive adversity,” Akira told her. Tessa agreed and after Akira left for work, she went back to working on the Kyoto protest, promoting the cause on social media and making new contacts. Still in her pajamas, Tessa decided to take a nap and then do a bit of sightseeing before Akira got home. The doorbell buzzed as she laid down. She wasn’t expecting anyone. If they are looking for Akira, they’ll come back, she thought. It buzzed again and again. Tessa went to the balcony to take a quick look down at the persistent intruder. It was Toshiro. The guy doesn’t give up, she thought. Tessa was about to walk away before he could see her, but he lifted his head.

When Inaya Khan is told she’s meeting a boy for marriage, the last thing she expects is for beetroot juice to play spoilsport. As CEO of Ixora Skincare, Inaya has achieved money, fame and power all at the age of twenty-seven. But to her mother, the only labels that apply to her are overweight and unmarried.

A CEO himself, but of a struggling startup, Ayaz Ahmed has no time or energy to even think of marriage. Until his mother shows him Inaya’s picture and he’s instantly smitten. Despite a disastrous start that included beetroot juice spewage, multiple suitors for Inaya’s hand and judgy onlookers, Inaya and Ayaz are instinctively drawn to each other.

Until Ayaz finds out that his company is being taken over by none other than his prospective bride-to-be. Ayaz may be smitten but he isn’t stupid. And he most certainly isn’t letting Inaya take his precious company from him.

Can love find a way to survive in the heart of business deals, mergers and acquisitions? Or will this bad girl have to go rogue to bring her own ‘Ranveer Singh’ home? 

Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt from Bad Girl Gone Rogue

Keeping my face as blank as possible, I sat down and tried my best not to sit too close to him. He sat down as well, a smile on his face, looking sheepish because my mother and his family were looking at us keenly.

‘Sameena, there’s someone I wanted you to meet,’ Ammi said to his mother and taking the hint, both his parents got up and walked away with Ammi, leaving the two of us alone at the table. We weren’t alone per se, because there were so many people around but I still felt my stomach tie up in knots.

Whenever I was in Bangalore, a part of me forgot that I was the CEO of a successful company and not just my parents’ daughter. I had spoken to thousands of men probably, men who worked for me, men whom I had interviewed for jobs at my company, vendors and marketers, and other CEOs. But here, all that was swept away as I became Naseem and Aftab Khan’s younger daughter. Their younger unmarried daughter.

Straightening my back, I turned to him, really hoping there wouldn’t be another disaster like the one that had nearly ruined my dress. I briefly wondered where Ayaz was. Maybe he’d been embarrassed enough to leave.

I put him out of my mind and turned to the man I was sitting with. He looked at me appraisingly, his eyes resting on my shoulders and then glancing down my bare arms. Women were wearing short, strapless dresses here at the party. This was nothing compared to that. I gritted my teeth, thinking that if he was going to shame me for my outfit, I was going to throw this…this…I picked up the glass of juice on the table and sniffed it slightly and then nearly gagged. It was beetroot juice.

About the Author:

Andaleeb Wajid is a hybrid author, having published 40 novels in the past 14 years. Andaleeb enjoys writing in a number of different genres such as young adult, romance, and horror. Andaleeb's recent novels All Drama No Queen and Mirror, Mirror were published by Penguin Random House and Duckbill respectively in 2021. Andaleeb's romance trilogy Jasmine Villa Series is being published by Westland in February 2023. She has an upcoming YA horror novel with Harper Collins later in 2023.

Andaleeb on the Web:
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 “Kissing you means I’m beyond redemption.”

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Read an Excerpt from Once Upon a Kiss

Karam stiffened at the sweet voice and the even sweeter sentiment it oozed. He didn’t do sweet. He turned slowly to face her. 

“Slumming again, Princess?”

Anger flared on those perfect features, but she composed herself a second later. You had to admire that level of control. She would have made the perfect politician’s wife. Kanak, on the other hand…a reluctant laugh huffed out of him. 

“Why are you like this?” she asked now, her tone bored but her eyes alive with something he recognised all too well. The same emotion thrummed through his veins, heating his blood and kickstarting his heart. 

He took a sip from his flask, a deliberately long one. He wanted to smack his lips, the gesture as pointed as it was obscene, when she stepped closer to him.

“You didn’t reply to my last message.” The soft words only stoked the heat.

“Didn’t have time.” The words were a low snarl in response. 

She cocked her head, those pretty hazel eyes seeing right through him and to the lonely, angry, always hungry boy he’d been and apparently, never outgrown. The boy who’d longed for a better life, for a full stomach, for a night without being whipped or beaten, for an affectionate touch, for someone, anyone really, to love him. 

A boy who’d thought he’d deserved better. A boy who’d wanted something pretty, something special in his life. A boy who’d dirtied and ruined everything he’d held in his hands. Including this woman.

He’d kissed her. And she’d lost everything. Her rich, powerful fiancé had ended their engagement, her family had shunned her, humiliated by her actions and her business had lost investors. Apparently, they’d been backing the woman who was going to marry Aakash Thakkar. Not someone who’d kiss an alley rat like him. 

“Go inside,” he told her softly.

But when did she ever listen to him?

“No,” she said, equally softly, stepping forward and into his space. 

“You really need to find a rich, pretty boy to practice this shit with, Princess.” The words were hoarse, his chest starting to heave. 

“But I don’t want to,” she murmured, her fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead, running through the strands. She gripped the back of his neck, the contact feeling like a brand on his skin.

“What do you want?” His hand fisted around his flask even as the other one gripped her hip, the skin soft and satiny under his callused palm. Her saree pallu whispered down one shoulder and slipped to the ground but neither of them noticed, their eyes only on each other.

“What. Do. You. Want?” The words were dragged from him. 

“You, Karam. Always you.” 

This time when she kissed him, he didn’t just go up in flames. He swore he’d burn the world down for a chance to do this again. And again.

About the Author:

A published author with Harlequin India – Mills & Boon India Collection and Juggernaut, Shilpa Suraj’s books have hit both the Hot New Releases and Bestseller lists on Amazon. Her next novel, tentatively titled ‘Wrong,’ has been contracted by Rupa Publications and will release later this year. She is also part of the Flipped Anthology by Harper Collins and had an audiobook book Insta Reddy release with Storytel.

She is, amongst other things, currently working on ‘Frazzled and Fabulous,’ a humorous, true-to-life parenting story that is part memoir and part nonfiction.

An avid reader with a passion for creative writing and storytelling saw her participating in writing competitions at school and dabbling in copy writing for an ad agency as a teenager. Twenty years in the corporate space, including a stint in Corporate Communications for Google, India, and a spell at entrepreneurship all hold her in good stead for her multiple current roles of author, mother and Head of Human Resources & Public Relations at an architecture and interior design firm.

Contact the Author:
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One wrong choice on the eve of her wedding has left Ananya married to one brother and in love with THE OTHER…

Read an Excerpt from Wrong

There was a special place in hell for men who were in love with another man’s wife. Arnav contemplated the fifteen-year-old scotch in the crystal glass in front of him. It helped fan the

flames of the hellfire in his gut. It didn’t stop his gaze from being drawn to the back of her dress. The outfit shimmered like silver smoke over her lithe body. He could see her husband’s hand resting possessively on her exposed back, a thumb gently gliding over her creamy, unblemished skin.

He clenched his glass and gulped down almost half of its contents, savouring the burning trail it left inside him. It did nothing for the guilt that was his constant companion, but it numbed the pain that clawed through him, be it only for a moment.

She laughed. It was a tinkling burst of sound that cut through the quiet murmur of the sophisticated, high society crowd that had gathered for the charity event. A few tendrils of her hair escaped the complicated hairdo her glorious waist-length mane was caught up in and flirted with the

nape of her neck.

Cursing, he pushed back from the table. He needed a smoke and he didn’t care if the world thought it was rude of him to walk out right now. As he made his way through the throng, a part of him registered the way she leaned against her husband and murmured something into his ear. Turning towards her, he

gave her an indulgent smile that spoke volumes about their relationship.

Oh yes, there was a special place in hell for men who loved another man’s wife. He breathed, crawled and existed in that abyss, for he didn’t just love another man’s wife, he loved his brother’s wife. Amidst the scum that grew in the filthy gutter of the deepest, darkest bowels of hell, he was the slime you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. He lived and breathed guilt, remorse and gut-searing pain. She was his friend, his passion, his endless torment, his curse. And yet, he loved her.

About the Author:

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

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Read an Excerpt from Bad Girl Gone Good

KABIR

The Rajmata of Bannor looked positively hunted as she stared at me.
“She said she’s on her way, beta. I’m sure she will be here soon.”
My brow creased in confusion.
“Who is on her way? I thought we were meeting to discuss how to raise money for the new NICU.”
“We are! But you can’t raise funds without a proper fundraiser. And if anyone can organise a superhit, blockbuster event for you, it is she,” declared Her Highness.
What was the old lady smoking? We weren’t a Bollywood production house. Usha Kiran was a hospital with a reputation for quality healthcare. The manic gleam in her eyes made me very nervous, especially when she started throwing around words like superhit and blockbuster.
“She?” I asked carefully.
“Kabir, you can’t pull off such a big event all by yourself. You need an event manager.”
No. What I needed was for these old farts to get their heads out of their asses and come up with a plan to counter Her Highness’s schemes.
“Your Highness, we’re trying to collect funds, and I’m not sure how blowing up a huge chunk of money on a grand party is going to help us do that.”
The other members of the board nodded in agreement. The very thought of wasting money on a fundraiser made them turn ashen.
She shook her head in disappointment.
“Beta, sometimes you have to spend money to earn more.”
“Well, we don’t have much, to begin with, and I don’t think I can authorise such an expense when I could use the money to buy new ventilators,” I said apologetically.
I knew she meant well, but she needed a dose of reality. There was nothing glamorous about what we were trying to do here. We needed state-of-the-art incubators, ventilators with CPAP machines, as well as a well-trained NICU staff, all of which cost money.
“What if the board doesn’t have to spend a single penny? I will donate the money you need to organise the event,” she replied craftily.
“With due respect, Your Highness, why would you do that?"
She banged on the floor with the end of her walking stick.
“Because it is time to try something new. The world is full of people who have more money than they can spend in this lifetime. And some of them are even willing to share that wealth. You just need to know how to approach them. As for the ones that don’t want to part with their wealth, you need to know exactly how to lure and skin them,” said Her Highness, with relish.
Were we still talking about raising money? I had a feeling there was a ruthless serial killer lurking under that silk-clad grandmotherly exterior. I sighed as I resigned myself to an uncomfortable meeting with the event manager. But I would hear her out before I showed her the door. It was the least I could do.
I looked at my watch pointedly and nodded.
“Fine. Let’s see what this wizard of yours has in mind.”
There was a sharp knock at the door, and it swung open.
“I hope I’m not too old for one of your lollipops, Doctor Uncle,” called a voice that I hadn’t heard for years.
And yet, it hit me with the same force as it had seven years ago.
Her Highness rose to welcome her, but I stayed frozen in my seat, unable to do anything but stare at that familiar face. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck was Aisha Rajput doing here?
She walked into the room and greeted Her Highness with a warm hug.
“Now, where’s my favourite man?” she cooed, pulling away from the Rajmata of Bannor.
I clenched my jaw and stood up slowly to my full height as she turned towards me. When she spotted me, she swayed in place as if she had been dealt a body blow. I shot her a frosty smile that made her turn pale.
“Well, if it isn’t the OG Bad Girl,” I drawled.”

About the Author:
Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.
The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.

Alisha on the Web:
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What does a lifestyle guru do when her life starts to fall apart?

Alia Dubey is being stalked. The problem is no one believes her. Not the cops, not her family…and well, she doesn’t really have any friends.
Until the day her sister calls in a favour and asks her friend from the Intelligence Bureau to check on Alia and the gifts she’s been receiving.
Officer Avinash Rathore has better things to do than babysit a spoilt socialite with delusions of danger. Until he walks in to find her home broken into and an innocuous bouquet of red roses placed there. While everything points to an obsessed lover, Avinash’s instincts are screaming that there is more at play.
The gifts keep arriving, escalating from roses to far more sinister things…each with an intimate note hinting at a personal agenda. But whose?
The police have a primary suspect – Alia herself. They’re convinced she’s mentally ill and the one planting the evidence that points to a stalker.
But Avinash knows there is more. Far from mentally ill, the ditzy socialite he’d expected to meet is incisively intelligent, staggeringly attractive and devastatingly dangerous to his otherwise sensible mind.
They find themselves in a race against an unknown opponent who has only one thing in their mind – to destroy Alia’s life and leave her standing in the ruins.
And then Alia goes missing. And Avinash realizes that he stands to lose not just the race but, everything. For the ditzy socialite, the one who is All Kinds of Wrong for him is suddenly the only one who can make his world Right again.

Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt from All Kinds of Wrong

Red roses. There were twelve long stemmed, perfectly budded red roses in her drawing room. Inside her locked drawing room. The lock to which only she had the key. 

Alia Dubey’s heart raced as she considered the quiet, empty space around her. This home was her haven. Until now. Her hand fumbled for the switch to the lights flooding the room with more light than necessary at this early part of the evening. 

She couldn’t see anyone but that didn’t mean anything. She more than anyone else knew the truth of that. She moved as silently as possible towards her hall cupboard and looked for anything that could be used as a weapon. Her enviable shoe collection looked back at her. They were very sexy but that didn’t help her right now. Except…

Hoisting her knee-high stiletto boot over one shoulder, Alia slowly moved around her flat. She moved from room to room, switching on the lights and being met with only silence and empty spaces. She opened cupboards, looked under beds, followed every tip she’d imbibed from every horror movie she’d watched and nothing. Whoever had left those flowers behind was gone. Leaving only this sickly fear behind. 

“Excuse me?” 

Alia shrieked and turned, flinging the boot in her hand on instinct. It hit the head of the man standing in the middle of her drawing room with a satisfying crunch. 

“Bloody hell,” he exploded, holding one hand to his forehead and glaring at her.

“I’m calling the cops,” she screeched. “Right now.” 

He held his hands out in a gesture of surrender, a trickle of blood making its way from his forehead to his eye. 

“I’m Avinash Rathore, your sister Aria’s friend.” 

The name rang a dim bell. One of her sister’s boyfriend Karan’s colleagues and friends. 

“What are you doing in my living room?” she asked him suspiciously. 

“I’m in Mumbai on holiday for the next month. Aria asked me to check in on you. She said you’ve been having some issues?”

She stared at him, looking unconvinced. 

“Look,” he said, completely stone faced. “If you promise not to throw another shoe at me, I’ll show you some ID and maybe you can call your sister and check?” 

Alia nodded slowly, still more than a little freaked out at this man’s sudden appearance in her home. 

He handed her his driver’s license which had his name and the worst photo she’d ever seen of any human being. He looked like a chimp that had lost its way in the evolution path. 

She dialed her sister, one eye still on the strange man standing in the middle of her cream shag carpet. She eyed his dusty sports shoes doubtfully. 

“Would you mind standing to the side?” she asked, politely, as the phone rang in her ear. She didn’t want to be removing his brown footprints from her gorgeous carpet. 

He looked down and then back at her. A small twist of his lips and he moved off the carpet to the marbled flooring. 

She heaved a sigh of relief just as Aria picked up. 

“You sent someone by the name of Avinash Rathore to my house?” she asked without preamble even as the man’s eyebrows rose in response to her brusque tone. 

“That someone is one of the most respected agents in the Intelligence Agency and one of my closest friends,” Aria’s dry voice came through. “Behave yourself Als. I’ll come there and throttle you if you’re rude to him.” 

Good thing Alia wasn’t scared of her big sister, she thought as she watched the blood still trickling down his temple. 

“Why did you send him here?” 

“I told him about your stalker problem which the cops aren’t taking seriously and asked if he could help me out as a favour.” Aria’s voice had gone very quiet. “I’m worried about you okay? And there is no one I trust more than Avinash to help. Please let him.” 

 Alia murmured something in agreement and disconnected. The strange guy was still standing in the middle of her drawing room, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, blood trickling down his face, looking completely out of place. 

“Maybe,” Alia cleared her throat. “we should start over. I’m Alia Dubey, Aria’s sister.” 

“Avinash Rathore, Karan and Aria’s friend,” he smiled. 

And her breath caught. That slow, small smile transformed the man’s otherwise ordinary face. 

Alia ruthlessly squashed that softening in her heart. 

“How did you get into my house?” she asked, her tone bordering on rude.

His smile disappeared, a lone eyebrow rose. “You left the front door open. I called out but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

No. No, she hadn’t. She’d been too busy pretending she was a ninja warrior. Alia’s gaze went back to the roses. 

God, she was in trouble. 

Across from her, the man watched her carefully. 

Big Trouble.

About the Author:

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

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