Alex scowled at him. "Man, which part of 'I'm really pissed at you', do you not understand?" he demanded angrily. "Just leave me the fuck alone, okay, Armaan." He slammed the door closed and that sound definitely echoed. It was like an explosion.
Armaan bowed his head, feeling the rejection all the way to his heart. This was it. The moment when he had to finally admit that he had lost another brother. Alex was never going to forgive him.
He trudged down to the key room and glared at the wide range of keys hanging inside the glass. "Damn it," he cursed when he saw that the ones to the Land Rover he used every time he was in Amira were missing. "Where the fuck are my keys?" he muttered.
The door opened and he turned to see Hamza enter the room. They had not met since Armaan had arrived in the morning and now, they just looked at each other unsmilingly. Armaan wanted to say something but he thought that one brother slamming the door in his face was more than he could handle for now.
It was Hamza who broke the silence first. "Asalaamwalaikum," he said calmly.
Armaan raised an eyebrow in surprise. This was the first time his brother had voluntarily spoken to him. Usually, it was Armaan who greeted him first. "Walaikumasalaam," he replied, watching as Hamza walked over to the keys.
"Your car was sent to the garage," he said, surprising Armaan even more. He had never spoken more than two words to his younger brother in his life. "You can take something else. Where are you off to?'
Armaan was still gaping at him. "I'm...meeting a friend."
Hamza turned and gave him a condescending glance. "Really?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes. Really."
The older man laughed humorlessly. "You may be able to fool your mother with those words but don't try it with me. I know of everything that goes on in this house. Here." He threw a set of keys at Armaan who caught it deftly while managing to glare at his brother.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak about my mother that way."
Hamza folded his arms and regarded him thoughtfully. "What are your intentions towards Jasmine?"
The question was so unexpected that Armaan was not sure if he had heard properly. "What?"
"Jasmine Khan. She was in my care for a few years after her parents' death. I believe she is here with you and Alexander. Your reputation precedes you, Ahmed. The maids in this house love to talk. But I hope you realize that Jasmine is not one of those girls you fool around with."
Armaan did not reply for a while. Who the hell did he think he was to give him advice about how to treat the girl he loved?
"Not that it's any of your business but Jasmine is perfectly capable of handling me whether I'm fooling around with her or not," he said firmly. "And the name is Armaan," he added before exiting the room.
~~~~
The club was located underground at a far end of the city and he did not have to show his special pass to get in. Everyone knew him there. He was the only Qureshi to ever set foot in an illegal club.
He was shown into a lounge where several belly dancers whom he was on first name basis with entertained him. Alcohol was also forbidden in Amira but here in the club, drinks flowed freely. However, many refused to consume it because they all had families to go back home to.
As a rule, nobody who was intoxicated was permitted to enter the Qureshi residence. Armaan knew that he would be able to sneak in undetected but it had never felt right to do so. It was sacrilegious. After recording a short video of the club scene, he sent it to Jasmine, sure that she would be intrigued. Phones were not allowed in the club either but he was one of the patrons here so no one dared say anything to him.
One of the belly dancers in front of him moved closer and swayed seductively, her kohl-dark eyes sexy and inviting. He sat there on a cushioned seat with his legs spread, waiting for the feeling of relaxation and enjoyment that he usually got from being in places like these. Places of pleasure. He waited for his cock to stir and propel him to get up and move this girl in his arms as she teased him with her sinuous movements.
Sure, he loved Jasmine. But that did not mean he could not appreciate other woman. That stuff was fiction. He liked women. He would always like them. While he was waiting, he checked his phone. She had not texted him back about the video. It was only eight. Maybe she was in the shower. He knew her phone was always with her so he was sure that she must be having her shower.
Closing his eyes and listening to the sensuous music, he started fantasizing about her. In his shower. The jets pounding her sexy, lithe body. Her crimson mouth whispering his name. He would stand there and look at her for a while before moving forward to touch her wet, silky skin. "Oh, Jasmine."
He realized he had said her name out loud and sat up abruptly. The belly dancer was leaning over him, her expert fingers brushing over his shoulders and his chest, her lips nearing his. Holding her by the shoulders, he pushed her back. She blinked at him in surprise. He shook his head at her once. The girl opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it and moved a few feet away from him before she resumed her dancing.
Armaan felt tired and confused. If
