The listlessness of the house was only the first sign of the late hour.
Another was the darkness which pooled around the cracks of his doors, threatening to encroach the carefully lit boundaries of his illuminated haven. But behind the door there was a corridor - lost to the same somnolence that drifted over the entirety of the estate.
A clock beside his droning computer, humming itself into electronic sleep, had numbers glowing in a vivid green – 12:01 am. The shutters were closed, doorways to the unfurling sunsets and sunrises he frequently witnessed by lamplight or with the slow, curling steam of his tea cup in the receding light of dusk. It was one thing he would miss, if he should surrender to his body's degeneration – but he had promised, long before its manifestations, that he would not defeat come so easily.
At that moment, he could not care any less about the time; it was simple human resource to him, and right then and there, as his nose burned, but his body tingled with strength and expectation, human resource was merely a distant thought in his energetic head.
He blinked, briefly, as he reached for his cell phone and felt the force of his fingertips dancing across the pads – dominance, over his weakness. Supremacy over the frailty that his father and the fathers before him so easily yielded to.
He would not bow to such a degrading disease. Boris Rabanisch would prevail.
The phone rang only once before a voice, formality ruffled by strain, addressed the receiver.
"I expect a complete update on your progress by Friday."
It had been a week since they had spoken directly, as Divya had feigned illness not only to escape his confusing presence, but also to assess her own misleading thoughts.
But as Divya heard the quick snap of a laptop being shut and the dull scathing scratch of metal on wood, she let her hand fall from the door and to her side, seized with nervous tremors. An irritable sigh threatened to escape her; it was not a place she wanted to admit standing in front of, at the threshold of the very essence of secrecy and conundrum itself – Boris' office door.
However, she was not left to wait long and simmer in her reluctance, as the handle turned and the partition, separating herself from her enigmatic client (and tormentor, if she took into consideration the ups and downs she'd been experiencing since the night he'd come into her room with that blasted tea cup and soft, soothing words), opened to reveal a ragged looking Boris, his eyes doused in dulling weariness and his countenance seeming to droop. She could tell, upon first glance, that he was very, very fatigued.
He smiled, a transient act of welcome, as he stepped aside and flourished his hand, as if to inspire her with his patient gesturing to enter on her own terms. "Ah, Miss Katdare – I could safely say that I would expect you to be the last person I would receive as a willing visitor."
She inclined her head. "Well, Boris, after your own stimulating visit I thought it would be so very rude of me not to return the favor."
He did not answer at first as he poured himself a glass of scotch, the ocher color seeming to glow like honey in the filtered light streaming in from the open windows. A salt-sodden breeze flowed through the room, cool and crisp, and made the curtains spin and flutter as the current reached through their paper-thin threads.
"As your insolence toward me is quite a commonplace occurrence, I should think you would not care to exercise the propriety of reciprocating the gesture I had afforded for you." He said, and, as he turned to face her once more, drained the small amount of amber liquid in his crystal glass.
"It is a business visit, as I know you are so fond of such dull meetings with your associates, so do not let yourself become too comfortable by my feigned civility."
"I would never dare become too comfortable with anything you should offer for my taking, Miss Katdare. Please, do not feel as if you are obligated to stand – sit." He replied, and she could hear the dominance and bitterness in his voice – much too caustic for her to believe, as he was usually so nonchalant and amused in his delivery.
She stood completely still at her post, directly behind the chair which he had so forcefully insisted she take for comfort. If he wants to play dictator in his twisted little game of dominance, I shall play the insurgent against his tyrannical will.
"No, I will not sit. I will only linger for a moment – Dieter has brought me the news that the house will be expecting important guests and that I am to be included in the invitation." She stared straight at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of divulging passion in the stolidity of his impassive eyes. When there was nothing to be found, the entirety of his gaze scoured for even a trace of emotion, she continued on. "Who are they, Boris?"
"If I told you who they were then it would cause the ruination of the very essence of suprirse." He remarked pointedly, and ambled toward the window as her gaze seemed to begin penetrating strategically built barriers.
Since Boris had been young (young and attractive, back when the days held more promise than they did for him now) he had been carefully fabricating walls. Walls that, behind the composure, the charm, were designed to keep the beautiful and clever and alluring women (very much similar to her), who hoped to claim his sentiments, out of his heart and stranded in the insignificance in which they belonged.
But Divya seemed to have a way with dismantling them, taking each piece from its place and, one by one, they crumbled like mere shards of rubble at her feet when they had once been intended as the foundations for his life. Like the defenses of Rome had fallen before him, he, too, had begun to capitulate to her - the siren's song flowing in the form of a determined, yet beautifull meldious and articulate voice through his mind, wrapping around his senses and bringing them to their knees. But his mind fought bravely against her bewitching influences; he could not have her to conquer him completely – he couldn't allow her to take away the only power over his body, his mind, his emotions, that he seemed to have left.
The window was much safer, in its lack of Divya, in comparison.
"I should celebrate the ruination of their essence. I detest them and if that was not obvious to you before, when I struggled against your surprise attacks of parties and meetings and the relentless secrecy of your lifestyle, then let me make it clear as crystal for you now – I demand that you tell me who they are!"
"Life is not as simple as formulating demands and hoping they are met with in the manner of compliance and obligation which you desire, Divya," he retorted softly, hardly risking a glance at her. "I will not yield to your stipulations simply because they are provided for me, and as the caretaker of my health and employee of my household, you should do well to remember your place."
The quiet which followed was received differently by both sides. Divya was as close to heartbroken as she had ever been before; but the tragedy of his rejection in considering her masked request, her concealed assessment of him, was misinterpreted as anger directed toward his obduracy.
At length, Divya revised her approach with one last attempt to decide the fate that as to reveal itself between them. "You may have won the battle – but have you won your war?" She asked, and advanced toward the window at which he was standing, encroaching on his unspoken desire for solitude. When she had neared him, her eyes fixated on his as they stared out of the open window, across the grounds and far beyond any tangible world she could reach, she summoned the will to speak to the stubborn man.
"I need for you to tell me, once and for all, if you will ever endeavor to capitulate to your own wishes, Boris. Will you embrace the nature of your humanity, or will you, in your adamancy to remain a machine in the face of life and happiness, continue to descend the destructive path which you have followed for so long?"
She gave him time to answer, and did not withdraw when he averted his eyes away from the lush scenery to settle on her. The patience and anticipation in her expression, illuminated by the sun which shone over her eyes, was unable to be avoided even if Boris wished it to be so. But as the suspension lingered on, her motivation falling away to bitterness of his conquest, he sighed and looked away.
It was not the air of subjugation which she found herself given, merely the same stubborness she'd recieved all along. Divya felt her insides begin to churn with anger, submerging beneath the dark desire of that same urge to beat the man into submission, into displaying his emotions.
But as she, too, gave one trembling exhalation, she realized the futility of her fury.
"Consider this my resignation, then," she said, her voice low as she strived to restrain the acrimony of her accepting defeat. "I will no longer impose my presence and strain your efforts to retain your privacy and, ultimately, desensitization to the emotions of those that surround you. In seven days, after I have fulfilled my obligation to Hank and my profession by finding you a new nurse, everything that has happened here will be forgotten - and I will be gone."
She then turned on her heel and a moment later, with the slamming of the door behind her, a flicker of encroaching weakness began to flicker in the light of Boris' unwavering gaze.
At exactly noon, as Boris had demanded that he and his guests be served by that precise time, Divya found herself wandering down the hall, feeling completely resentful of the fact that she felt herself compelled to attend. The first of her reasoning, in terms of not going, was that she did not technically work for him anymore and that any duties she had been imposed to fulfill pertaining to his commands were absolved upon her giving him notice of her resignation.
A more assertive idea came to mind – Dieter had asked it of her, in the most entreating of voices, and though it was all in favor of the master of the house and his fragile reputation, Divya could not refuse Dieter. He had become somewhat of a friend, and had tended to her while she had been pretending to be ill even though she had explained the intent of her prestense to him...as childish as the situation seemed to her in the present.
And so she found herself standing at the French double doors, her hand hesitating as it hovered over the polished bronze knob, for Dieter's sake....if she would not for her own or for Boris himself.
Boris, being the infuriatingly observant cad that he was (at least, he was in Divya's biased opinion), noticed the outline of her figure through the opaque etched glass and rose from his seat promptly upon discovering it. He turned to his guests, "Excuse me, if you would be so kind…it would be more conveinient for my manservant to traverse between rooms if there was no obstruction to detain him."
Before he received even a nod of approval from them, he sauntered toward the door in his habitual determined fashion and threw them open, revealing an astonished Divya.
And she was doubly surprised upon finding that the two guests of honor were her parents.
Her mother's eyes widened considerably as she took in the sight of her daughter, standing at the boundary between yard and home as if she had been there all along. "Divya, darling – I did not know you were invited to this little rendezvous as well! Why, I did not even see that you came in."
Boris removed a cigar from his breast pocket as Divya opened her mouth to explain, and proceeded to cut her off as she said, "I may provide explanation for her elusive behavior. Miss Katdare has been residing with me for the past month and a half or so, managing my…affairs as Hank has been quite detained by a family dilemma."
Her mother turned to look at Divya as if she had seen a ghost. Beside her, looking equally, if not more pale, was her father, who reached for his brandy as he muttered a bout of Indian under his breath.
"Divya, how dare - "
Boris struck a match and held his cigar over the wavering orange flare. "Do not fret, Mrs. Katdare. Divya has indulged in no such activity as you have obviously deduced."
"Then what is she doing here, sir, and why is it so very crucial that Divya should handle your affairs for you?" asked Mr. Katdare.
"Nothing so crucial that should demand her frequently," Boris replied, the scent of his cigar wafting through the stagnant air. Mrs. Katdare had been looking quite as if she would faint, but was beginning to regain her color as she stole a soothing drink from her husband's brandy glass.
"The both of you, really…I should be ashamed of the both of you, for resorting to such explanations."
Divya endeavored to laugh at the inanity of the subject, but it came across as more lackadaisical and forced than she'd hoped for. She stared awkwardly at the empty seat beside Boris, who looked vaguely smug as he watched the progression of her inner conflict as it reached her crestfallen features.
"Miss Katdare," Boris' hand waved gracefully over the empty seat, and the sound of his voice roused her violently from her contending thoughts. "Please…won't you sit?"
She tossed him an admonishing glare, but as her parents' expressions depicted their suspicions of unspoken, hidden affairs as a result of her balking, she slid uneasily into the seat. The fragrance of Boris' cigar made her cough slightly, especially as he seemed to exhale it in her general direction but she said nothing on account of the spicy scent - she knew it would only provoke him.
Dieter arrived from the kitchen, carrying a silver platter decorated with cocktails balanced on a delicate sphere of lace.
"So, mister-"
Boris looked at the man questioningly, and Divya, seeing the distress which her father was being abandoned to stumble through on his own, helped him, "Boris, father."
"Yes, Boris," Mr. Katdare tipped his cocktail at the man sitting adjacently to him and offered a somewhat approving look. "You must come to the wedding ceremony, as a new associate of mine. All of my business acquaintances will be there – it will be the perfect occasion to meet all of them appropriately."
Divya's heart began to thud dully against the hollow concave of her chest as her father spoke. Boris, however, seemed quite confused by the offer, despite its certain good intentions.
"Wedding ceremony," Boris reiterated, setting his cocktail on the doily that was spread across the table. "And to whom should I offer my congratulations for their engagement?"
Her mother's brow knitted, as if she had been approached by a most addling inscrutability. "Then Divya has not told you?" She scoffed, but her amused smile gave away her intended affinity. "That is quite like Divya – always forgetting her own marriage, as if it were a curse!"
It was very quiet for a moment, and Divya could not breathe. She kept her duress under the concealment of her stoic features, and glanced fleetingly at Boris, who she noticed had paled beneath this own tantalizing veil of poise. He blinked once or twice, and then cleared his throat, reaching for his cocktail once again. "Forgive me, I seemed to have misunderstood you – to whom do I owe the congratulations?"
"Divya, of course," her father replied, bluntly, and it was not a tone of voice Divya was accustomed to hearing in Boris' presence. "She has long since been betrothed to the son of a family friend, our dearest boy Raj."
"Oh, and he is the dearest boy in the world," Mrs. Katdare crooned over her martini. "We are lucky to have him, and Divya is very fortunate as well as to have secured such a good match for herself!"
"For myself, mother, hardly," Divya rebutted lightly. "It was you and father that arranged us; I had absolutely no involvement in the strategy."
"Strategy, Divya? Please, my dear…do not be so severe upon your own betrothed. You make it sound as if it were an obligation!"
Divya stood quickly from her seat, her body trembling as the world seemed to be falling all around her, and Boris stared into a void, unable to revive his charms to save her from her mother's maudlin speech over her daughter's engagement.
Her voice, too, felt the upheaval of her self-control. "Forgive me, mother…father," she said, and her eyes flitted between them. Her father looked rather disturbed by her display, but said nothing to stop her. "I have…business with clients that I have to attend to."
"Oh, but Divya…can't your obligations wait for a little while? We haven't spoken since our little outing, and that was nearly two weeks ago."
"Yes, but my evasions have not been purposeful, I assure you," she replied, and felt her throat begin to constrict, the breath in her lungs shallow and gasping. "Enjoy your drinks…and your company. Good day."
The legs of her chair squealed their protests against her rushed movements, and the grating sound seemed to wake Boris from his thoughtful daze as she escaped from the mild heat of the afternoon.
"The…intruders are gone. You may come out from your concealment now, and breathe easier knowing that they have departed from the grounds entirely."
He had found her in the library, staring blankly at the wall with an open book in her lap.
Upon realizing that her sanctuary had been uncovered, she hurriedly snapped the book shut and laid it gently on the end table beside her, the unyielding rigidity of the volume's spine pressed against the circular base of a lamp.
He sighed and eased into the settee across from her, assessing her with the same unnerving gaze pierced the layers of fear and distrust and aggressiveness that served as her protective camouflage against him. His hands folded, the long, pale fingers overlapping and curling and winding like roaming white vines in the way that they slid into the empty slots between the ashen appendages.
As he inhaled, he remarked, "so that is your conversation when you are not troubled by my presence? Pleasant, civil conversationalist?"
She found herself unable to give anything in response, out of the shock of his discovering her secret so easily and the affliction she had suffered on her pride as a result of her unearthed engagement.
He, too, sensed her duress, but did not relent as he found himself holding all the right cards to achieve another victory. Amidst the silence, there was only the rustle of his clothes as he abandoned his post across from her, entering into no man's land and crossing the borders of the opposition as he settled into one of the empty cushions on either side of her.
His eyes never absconded from their post, and as he found himself so close to her, saw the lines of melancholy etched into the corners of her crestfallen mouth.
"Divya," he paused, and his voice wove each syllable with such softness of breath that it seemed more akin to the ebb and flow of a passing breeze than the reality of her name.
She realized how close he was to her, how, if he moved his hand only an inch it would have grazed the length of hers."Why did you not reveal to me the fact that you are to be married?" He queried.
"You have no right, sir, to ask such questions," she replied briskly, scooting away from him in her most discreet attempt to remove herself from his daunting company "You, who would reveal nothing in confidence, can request nothing more from me than what has already been required in the form of your demands." She retorted wryly.
He gave a soft, exhaling laugh and contemplated the stillness of her appearance. "And we have reverted to the formality which formed the basis for our acquaintance. Have you forgotten my name so easily? Should I...remind you of it?"
Her eyes turned ferociously on him, and Boris found himself mystified by the fathomless black reflection he found there. "My memory is not faulty; I know your despicable name well. In fact, it is the last hope for your redemption which holds any sway over me. But a name can only go so far. And since you have made no plans to revise your distasteful manners which you present to me, I have no wish to associate with you whatsoever. I have only deemed it would natural that I would not address you in such an informal manner."
They lapsed into silence as Boris configured his own response. "Then I must insist that you are given payment for the time you so…futilely spent here." He said, and pulled, out of his pocket, two gold bars that gleamed even in the dim light of the gloomy quietude of the statuesque room.
Divya scoffed at the materialization of the ludicrous payment and fixed her eyes on a row of books situated in front of her. "I would never resort to accepting such an offer."
"And tell me – why is it that you should resort to refusing it?"
"For one, I do not need it. I have a comfortable lifestyle and have no desire to ruin the simplicity of it with such gaudy manifestations of what will only serve as reminders in the end."
"Well, then," he replied, his brow rising quizzically. "You state your opinion quite adamantly on the subject. It is unfortunate that I should have to reject your…rejection."
"You cannot force them on me."
"Quite the contrary, actually," he contradicted her, and reached for her hand, placing both of the heavy bars into the palms and curling her fingers over them. "I have successfully coerced them into your charge."
"I do not want them, as I have already stated," she shoved the shimmering bullion back into his lap. "And no matter of persuasion or provocation can change my mind."
"Whether you do or do not desire them is not the question," he retorted. "It cannot be considered a question at all, really. It is a matter that has already been decided for you, and you should not be inclined to reject such an offer that will allow you to live comfortably for the rest of your life."
"How many times must I convey my lack of interest in your compensation?"
"Perhaps you may…relay your disgust in a different language entirely." He replied indifferently. "German would do quite nicely."
"This is not a game! It never was and never will be!" She exclaimed, outraged by his carelessness in the face of such a dire situation. "It is as if I am merely a match of chess."
"Ah, I agree," he deliberated, crossing his leg over his knee. "And you are my queen, yes?"
Her eyes narrowed perceptively upon receiving his distinctive suggestion of mockery. "If I am your queen, then I am quite mistaken as to the fact that I have found you most despicably treating me as if I am merely your pawn?"
"Yes, you mistake me entirely, then, my friend."
She broke from her repose so quickly and so ungracefully that it startled even him from his state of persistent calm.
Her eyes focused on him with an unmistakable mark of disdain in their obscure blackness."Let me make it very clear to you, Mister Rabanisch." Her voice was low in its threatening snarl, and her lips had even begun to curl in their cruel posture; Boris was merely amused, no more frightened by her antics than he would be a bright-eyed doe.
Her words, however, did not give him the same amusement that her expression had so artlessly alluded to.
"I am not to be so lowly slighted as to be referred to as a companion of yours. And as for your disgusting offer, I would not take your money if it were the last thing I was promised I could ever do in the world."
Upon finding that his first strategy had failed miserably in the face of her tenacity, he decided to switch tactics entirely.
He, too, rose fluidly from his place on the loveseat and confronted her; Divya found that his intimidation aqcuired the pinnacle of its potency, holding sway over her thoughts for escape and every hope she had in the world, when he had closed nearly all the space between them. She tried to recoil, her natural instinct when presented with his masculine grandeur, but found she could not – his eyes had lured her completely into his wanton snare.
"Tell me….why did you not reveal to me that you were engaged?" He repeated casually, inclining his head as he searched her eyes for even a fragment of an answer.
"Why should it have any effect on you if I oppose the justification of keeping my secretive affairs…secret?" She rejoined. "I owe no explanation to you. You should comprehend such a concept better than anyone; I can be assured of at least that."
He disagreed, "perhaps you will find that I do, in fact, necessitate some explanation. I am your benefactor of sorts, am I not?"
"Not anymore." She seethed.
"Ah, yes…" he breathed, and leaned into her until his mouth was directly by her ear. She could feel the very physical presence of his fragrant aura, an unspoken invitation, an entrapment within itself, and every note and every wisp of its cool, soft scent seemed to break through the defenses of her resolve.
The alluring flow of his exhalation, fanning over her ear, enticed her and left her very well near spellbound. "But you were, and still are…in my service." He whispered.
Divya could bear it no longer. His insistence, his voice, the very air of his decorum made her heart hammer in her chest and set a fire to her skin – a slow, heavy burning that threatened to consume her if she allowed his seductive manipulation to fill her completely.
And so she fled, leaving Boris behind in a state of bemusement as she disappeared from the library altogether.
News traveled rapidly in the Hamptons. It was a fact that could prove to be the saving grace of a reputation, or the ruination of one all at once. In fact, the circulation of gossip and conversation of the garrulous locals was so versatile that it even allowed Divya the pleasure of escaping Shadow Pond for a few hours to review a prospective application.
She could also thank Dieter who had made a few calls to the local newspapers and hospitals for her while she was in the company of her parents and a very supercilious patron who had a taste for expensive, and rather illegal, cigars.
My savior. And yet the poor man is blind to the master of the house and his innumerable faults and irritating traits.
She found herself sitting at a table, a cup of chamomile tea in her hands as she desperately contrived for her unraveled nerves a web of safety to take comfort in, a sanctuary of warmth and herbs that could calm the whirling emotions in her that Boris had so easily unearthed from their dormancy.
Cruel seducer…he should be violently restrained for such licentious antics!
Luckily for her, the woman she had arranged the meeting with had only just arrived at the door – I'll be wearing khaki slacks and a denim jacket. There they were…plain as day before her.
Divya set aside the cup of tea to properly go to the woman and greet her, but as her location was discovered before she could rise, she offered the empty chair instead.
"Oh, gosh, hello," said the woman as her hand flitted nervously over her heart. "I am sorry for being a little late – traffic is horrible!"
Conscience for punctuality…a good trait for Boris' demanding nature.
Divya motioned toward the chair after shaking the woman's hand. "Please, sit," she said. "And we can begin the interview as planned."
"Thank you, don't mind if I do." She replied and, as the passing waitress saw that the expected guest had arrived, ordered a glass of water in an attempt to situate herself more comfortably into her settings.
Once she had settled into her seat and gave a sigh of contentment, she folded her hands over the table surface and returned her attentions to Divya. "I'm Maria Catone…I'm a nurse, working at Hampton Heritage right now and I really don't prefer the emergency room hours. They are excruciating! I never have any time to…live, you know?" She then smiled at the woman sitting in front of her. "Anyway, it is very nice to meet you Divya," she paused and received her water graciously from the waitress, a smile on her face.
Polite, too…another amiable, and necessary, mannerism.
However…the time issue may be a little harder to resolve.
"Yes, well, I suppose we shall see if you hold me in such high regard after I introduce you to your prospective employer."
"Please," Maria replied enthusiastically. "Tell me all about him!"
"His name is Boris, and that's all I can offer you at the moment. Which brings us to our next dilemma - he is a very private person, and demands that his privacy is not betrayed to the public."
"Oh gosh…Boris? That really rich nobleman that everyone is so interested in all the time?" Maria seemed slightly disgusted by the mentioning of the man. "I don't understand it. Why is he so mysterious about everything?"
"I know that it seems rather…confusing. Privacy can induce an interest in the public so…enthralling that it could produce the opposite, undesirable effect of having secret affairs seep into societal knowledge," she sighed. "But I suppose the man is not completely artless…he has managed to keep himself out of the way of the gossip hounds for quite some time. Or else, he has simply outwitted them in every possible method that they have simply surrendered to his anonymity."
Maria's eyes seemed to retain a spark of question in them. "You speak of him as if…you don't like him at all."
Oh dear…not a particularly good emotion to display in front of potential replacements. I should only hurt myself in betraying the cad's true nature to them before they have been completely integrated into his employment…
Divya smiled, and though it was listless, she hoped it would nullify the thoughts she had just provided for Maria's contemplation. "Oh no…he is a…very kind and generous person. Smart and engaging in conversation as well…"
The woman laughed nervously. "And yet…your tone betrays you. See, I'm pretty good at being observant…don't mean to brag or anything but…"She shrugged lightly. "It's the way that it goes, I guess. He's unpleasant…I can tell from your elusive behavior…and your muscles look as if they're on springs."
"I do not appreciate being speculated in the manner of a pig at a country fair," Divya scoffed in reply. "I have said nothing of the sort and please…let me explain some things before we start the interview."
Maria's phone began to ring and she did not hesitate to pick it up. She held up a dismissive hand to Divya, and she watched as Maria's expression became gradually darkened by the reception of bad news. That, or she is one stunning actress…perhaps a career in theater should be pursued for her.
The woman gestured to her phone before slipping it into her purse. "I'm really sorry but…I've gotta go. My husband has some sort of emergency…this will have to wait. Can we reschedule?"
Oh, dear…a husband? That won't do at all…
Divya rose from her chair, desperately struggling to contain her disenchantment at finding her interview to not have only gone awry, but also leaving her without expectation of leaving Shadow Pond as early as she had planned.
"Do not bother," Divya replied bitterly. "You do not fit the requirements for the profession."
And Divya left the little café in the same state of vulnerability and frustration as she had arrived.
AN: Hooray! Almost five hundred views of this particular work of fiction...and I am officially half way done! I won't tell you how many chapters there will be. You will have to wait and see for yourself...however, I hope to have this fic done by either the end of this week or next. We shall see, won't we?
Anyway, thank you again to everyone who has continously supported this story! I am so glad that you're enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it. Please excuse any grammar mistakes or anything else of that matter. It's 12:30 and I am quite run out of the stamina to check everything over three times. I believe I got everything but...one cannot always be sure.
Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters of the original series, Royal Pains. Divya Katdare, Mr. and Mrs. Katdare, Boris and Dieter all belong to their creators. Maria, however brief her part in the story, is of my creation.
Playlist for Clandestine (Want to add to the list? Let me know!)
Safe by Britt Nicole
Waking by Hayley Taylor
Feel the Light by Britt Nicole