Eeshani was shocked into dropping the shirt out of her mouth and staring at Vikrant. He stood a few feet off of her, naked, his broad and handsome physique on full view. His biceps and six-pack abs unwillingly made her stare into his face. Vikrant was right enough to be dangerous and sexy at the same time. Eeshani opened her eyes—she had not seen a man with such perfection of physique. She had a dry feeling in her throat, and she hastily shook her head.

Vikrant took one of his clothes sets, a black shirt, and threw it on, his deep voice telling Tom, I want this shirt, like a new one, tomorrow. In case of failure, never dare to appear in this hotel. And no, you will not have your salary deducted in this month deducted.

Eeshani's eyes went wide. Tears immediately welled up. "Sir, please... don't do this. I do." I do need the money; "I do, I do need it, really," she said in a shaking voice.

Now you can go. Vikrant rudely interrupted her.

Crying, Eeshani stood and looked at him when now he looked through the window of glass, with his shirt on and his back to her. Her hands and legs shook. She was aware that she would risk her job in case she said something. In that way she kept quiet, wiping her tears and putting everything back on the food trolley.

Vikrant replied without looking at her, "Now never ever come here again. Got it?"

Eeshani did not reply and went out of the room. As soon as she was outside, she put her hands to her face, banged her against the wall, and started crying. "Oh, why, God," she said tremulously, "is it always like this for me?" Why do you always do this to me? Why can't I live in peace? You had heard how badly I needed the money... and you did this? Why did I have to be here today? Why not someone else? Why must it always be me?"

With this she dropped on the floor, where she lay with her head upon her knees and cried.

At some splendid and spacious palace, the chaos and bustle were rife. There were a lot of visitors at the palace, and the whole Sikhawat family was busy with arrangements for the wedding. The palace was well adorned with flowers and curtains. A gigantic floral mandap was erected in the hall.

A woman of about 55 years, who was named Shashikala, was making repeated phone calls in a room. Her features were full of concern. She wore a bright Banarasi saree and tikka with the hair perfectly pulled into a bun. She was still youthful and beautiful. In frustration she sat on the sofa and kept calling.

An old woman, called Kishori, who was sitting on the bed, saw Shashikala so bothered and said, "What's wrong, bahu?" What is the big deal? Why are you calling so much and so often?

Shashikala responded worryingly that Vikrant is not picking his phone up, Mom. It is his wedding day, and he has not even made it to Bangkok. I'm so worried. I visited him yesterday, and he assured me that he would come on time. However, now the wedding ceremony is right at hand, and still no sign of him. Due to his pressure, we even did not do the haldi and mehendi ceremonies. But at least he must come to his wedding day in time.