Milan Vohra - The Love Asana

‘If you’re doing me the kindness of marrying me, have the decency to at least give me time,’ Pari tried negotiating shakily.

‘Time? For what?’

‘To despise you a little less.’ There, she’d said it .

‘I’m giving your brother seven crore rupees.’ Vivan’s voice had a dangerous edge to it. ‘ Uske ellava I don’t need to give you anything else. Not time. Not anything.’ Vivan turned away from her. ‘And as far as despising goes, Pari, you have no idea what the word even means. But have no worry. I’ve never had to force myself on a woman yet and it’s not going to happen now either. You’ll be the one begging me to take you.’

‘Kabhi nahin! There’s no chance in hell that’ll happen!’ Pari shot back.

He took a few long strides towards the door and then turned to extract a platinum card from his wallet. ‘Here. This is what I actually came to give you.’

Pari stood in a daze as Vivan curtly handed her the credit card and said in a mocking voice, ‘Use it to buy whatever you need for the wedding. It has no limit. So no matter how much you loathe me, it won’t make a dent.’

‘What makes you think I would even use it?’ Pari had never been so humiliated.

‘Get used to it.’ Vivan smiled sardonically. ‘One of the perks of being Mrs Parasher.’

Dear Reader

Mills & Boon and I were introduced to each other when I was in my early teens. Then about a year ago an idea came to me as I was practising my yoga, and I knew right away I wanted to write the story of a young yoga instructor who falls in love with a charismatic man who walks into her class. I had barely finished writing the story minutes before the online deadline was up. To my surprise it went on to win first prize. I was even more amazed at the interest it generated. I knew Mills & Boon ®romances were popular, but I had no idea how many women connected with the books so strongly.

I started thinking more about my characters now that the story was going to evolve into a book. While I still wanted my heroine to be a yoga instructor, I decided I wanted both my protagonists to be self-made people who didn’t come from cushioned backgrounds; they had to have dealt with disillusionment but in their hearts still be hoping to find that one person they can believe in and who believes in them too.

I also wanted to give my hero and heroine unique names that reflected something of the kind of people they were and that weren’t already names of actual people I knew. I love the names I finally decided on—Vivan (meaning first ray of the morning sun) and Pari (or fairy angel). I hope you do too and can relate with their love story!

Pari is fiercely loyal, cautious but still pretty impulsive. She’s done an admirable job of building her life, despite all that she’s had to face. She is like so many inspiring women I’ve met in India—no different from women anywhere else in the world, hiding her vulnerabilities and hopes while she takes on the world.

And Vivan? Well, Vivan is the kind of man we’ve all found ourselves irresistibly attracted to, infuriatingly confounded by, and who we want to be able to understand. And if by some major miracle he ‘gets us’ (impossible as that may sound) and yet loves us it can help make sense of everything.

I was lucky to find my Vivan years ago. If you haven’t already, believe that you will too!

At one time I’d never have believed it if someone had said I’d be writing a Mills & Boon ®romance with Indian characters and so much of the country I love in it—and look! It happened.

Love

Milan Vohra

Three years of pretending to study economics helped MILAN VOHRArealise her true love was writing. That led to two decades of seriously fun work, writing ad campaigns for all kinds of stuff from pizzas to lingerie. Milan met her husband when she was seventeen; they dated for seven years (very sensibly) and have been married twenty-two years. They have two children—one who just got out of her teens, the other just getting into his—but ask Milan’s husband and he’ll tell you there are three teenagers at home.

Milan grew up in Delhi, but has spent large chunks of her life in Bangalore and grown to love both cities equally. She is grateful to be at a happy place in her life now, working out of home with a supportive family—especially as the only way she can write her books is longhand, when everyone’s finally asleep. Her biggest challenge as an author is first to be able to figure out how to beat that online Scrabble addiction.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Papa and Mummy

K.C. Kartar and Hira Kartar Dalwani

Your love is the greatest example

‘THERE are many better-known ad agencies than Firefly we can talk to,’ Dev, the Country Manager, said nervously. ‘Fitness Fanatics is such a big brand … all the big agencies would kill to add it to their portfolios and we—’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Vivan cut the man short, his voice polite but firm, brooking no further discussion. ‘Firefly is owned by Deepak Dewan, correct?’

‘Correct,’ Dev mumbled.

‘They are on the verge of declaring themselves insolvent, isn’t that right? You’ve reconfirmed this with your sources?’

‘Yes. The bank managers tell me Firefly is in deep trouble. The last two years have been bad in retaining their clients as it is, with the recession. They’ve made a big error in judgement with the media risks they took, extending far too much credit to a new client. Now that client has reneged on payments. So unless Deepak Dewan can come through with something really big …’

‘He risks losing the accreditation for his agency,’ Vivan finished for him. ‘And what about his personal assets?’

‘Car, house, all mortgaged already. He stands to lose it all.’

‘Excellent. And Deepak Dewan has been told what my business could bring his agency, of course?’ Vivan asked without looking up as he signed some documents.

‘Ten lakh rupees a month as retainer and eight, maybe even ten per cent as pure profit on media commission on our entire ad budget, all told that should add up to close to seven or eight crore rupees … but really, sir, the retainer in itself is very substantial, you needn’t give any commission at all to the ad agency … we could tie up directly with a media buying house and get much better value.’

‘Please carry on,’ Vivan said coldly.

‘Well, as you directed, Deepak Dewan also knows that whoever we give the business to stands to make this money over a six month burst. If I may suggest, sir, this budget could easily be spread over a twelve month period to give us a pretty good media launch …’ Dev left the sentence open-ended.

‘For India I’m looking to make a big splash—I want our brand to be seen in all the glossies, on TV, on every prominent hoarding site,’ Vivan said conclusively.

‘Deepak Dewan is very eager to see you with his team to present their concepts.’

‘All in good time.’ Vivan allowed himself a little smile, stretching out his long lithe legs under the heavy teakwood table that was part of the Grand Presidential Suite custom-made for him at one of the top hotels in New Delhi.

Vivan had waited for close to a year just for this opportunity to close in on Deepak Dewan. He had had every business decision of his tracked. The day Deepak had signed on the dubious client, Vivan had rejoiced. The client was a bad debt in most parts of the world and Deepak was a fool not to have done his research with due diligence. Vivan was not given to being harsh but, this once, he was glad the man he needed to see suffer was a fool. Revenge would be his soon. Deepak Dewan would be grovelling for a lifeline from Vivan to save his company, his home, his name. And Vivan intended to reel Deepak in, closer and closer to believing he was home and dry, before taking all hope away from him. God, how much he hated even the sound of that name. Yet strangely, even this long-awaited vengeance, though so close now, felt inadequate. He wished there were a way he could make Deepak Dewan suffer more. The kind of suffering that he had been through when he’d learnt the truth about Sonia’s death.