I remember strong arms wrap around me.
I remember the darkness swallow me whole.
I remember the voice.
I remember the cold.
1
Sai
One Year Ago
“Poison runs in your veins,Sai Shah, poison!” she spits, her breathing labored. My body trembles with pent up rage I’ve never felt before, my vision blurs, my heart pounding like the beat of a drum against my chest. Her stormy gray eyes are filled with abhorrence, her beautiful features twist and contort as she looked upon me as if I am the epitome of everything she despises in the world. And maybe I am.
Those are the last words my mother, Salina, utters as my fingers wrap firmly around her slender neck. I feel the velvet softness of her skin, the bones beneath it crumpling in my iron grasp. She doesn’t fight me; her hands fall at the sides of her expensive Louis Vuitton silver dress. Tumbles of blue-black hair that match my own dangle behind her in waves. Struggling and pleading, especially with the likes of me, are beneath her.
When she takes her last breath, it sounds like music. The outro in this classic tragic piece of her existence.
Her vacant eyes no longer hold judgment; her face isn’t distorted into a grimace. She is at peace. The relief I feel when I finally release my hold, her body falling weightlessly before hitting the ground, is nothing short of euphoric. She lay lifeless at my feet, her pale face, a face I’ve grown to despise, now shrouded by her hair.
I want to feel some remorse. Anything. But there is nothing but elation.
The bird no longer slaps its wings against the gilded cage, the door is open, I am set free.
The horrendous dream has me gasping awake.
“Sir, your father expected you to be at the office an hour ago. He isn’t happy you’re late.”
“Go away.” I growl, pulling a soft feathered pillow over my head, in a failed attempt to block out Neil’s panic-stricken voice. There have been days when all I’ve wanted to do is sever his tongue. I suppose I should be grateful. Thank him even, for releasing me from the prison of my nightmares. But I will never be free of them.
My head throbs, my eyes burn, and my tongue feels like sandpaper in my mouth. It must be the crack of dawn, and this fool is in my room, babbling on and on about where I should be and what I should be doing.
“Sai, seriously, your father will have my ass for this.” I should feel sorry for the sucker. But, I don’t. I don’t give a shit what my asshole father does to him or how he feels about me. I do not answer to the old man, and I don’t answer to his minions. Neil may be my assistant, but it’s my father he owes his allegiance to. He can stand here pretending that he’s doing what’s best for me, but behind it all, he’s a puppet like the rest of them.
Flinging the pillow off me, I slowly pry open my eyes. The harshness of the midday sun causes me to squint. “Close those fucking blinds.” I cover my eyes with my arm and grunt in annoyance.
He finally does something useful and closes the blinds enough to make looking at him bearable.
“It’s midday, he asked to see you at eleven.”Asked? Interesting choice of words more like demanded. Thou shalt do as I say.Neil is wound up tighter than a ten-day clock. Nervous Neil. Father’s little puppet. Everybody fears my father like he’s some sort of god. He isn’t. He’s just an old man with impossible expectations and a superiority complex I have no time for. Avi Shah may own most of this country, he may have people falling at his feet, ready to do whatever he wants, when he wants it done, but he doesn’t own me. That has been my father’s biggest issue with me, his inability to rein me in.
“Neil, chill the fuck out.” I swing my legs off the bed and sit up, palms against my eyes. “You’re giving me a headache.” In truth, I should not have drunk as much as I did. Every time I do, I swear I’ll never do it again. Flashbacks of last night, though, have me grinning. Life is to be lived, and that is exactly what I do, because the alternative is simply not an option.
“What’s so amusing?” he scurries into my walk-in closet returning with a charcoal gray Armani suit and an array of dress shirts. He can’t seriously be expecting me to wear that. I cock a brow, and stand, letting my cover slip, my nakedness causing the poor man to look away. I shake my head and walk into my bathroom, every muscle in my body aching. I need a stretch, a shower, breakfast, and more alcohol. The more I drink, the less I feel. The further away the nightmares go. They can’t touch me when my senses are numb.
When I re-enter the room, I’m grateful Neil has made himself scarce. The guy is so jittery sometimes I wonder if he’s on something. Serving my family would drive anyone insane. The only reason he hasn’t been face-planted by me yet is that his father worked for my family as long as I can remember. I have a small ounce of respect for him.
I slip on a pair of jeans, a white tee, and my leather jacket. I run my hands through my damp, dark hair and take a sip of the aromatic coffee Neil’s left for me, swallowing down a couple of paracetamol. I pick up the almost empty bottle of Hennessey off the side table and pour some into my coffee. “Perfect.”
I step out onto the balcony and take a deep breath. The view from my suite in my family home on a private island off the coast of Bebek, Istanbul, is a slice of heaven. Looking at this scene every morning makes living here tolerable. There are times I want to leave, but being a Shah makes that near impossible. Gulping down the last of my coffee, I head back inside. I slip on my Rolex, grab my keys, and search for my phone in my bedsheets.
The truth is, I’m dreading this conversation with my father, which is why I’ve avoided it for as long as I have. I know what he wants from me, but it isn’t something I’m ready to get into, not today at least. Turning twenty-one to my father means I have to take on more responsibility at the company and prepare myself to eventually fill his shoes.
But for now, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing, and that is exactly what I intend to do. I never agreed to this so-called urgent meeting with him. I know I’ll have to come face to face with him eventually. I also know I’ll have to learn the ropes at the company, but now is not the time, and today is not the day.
My phone rings just as I’m grabbing a bagel, and I look down at the display and smirk. “Ravi, my man,” I answer. “All set?”
“Good to go. Where are you, bro?” I can hear music and chatter in the background.
