Part 1: An Unhappy Reunion

Present day...

"Welcome to Hotel Oceanus. We hope you enjoy your stay." Mehar managed to say.

"I'm sure I will." Replied her client.

His gaze locked on hers, recognition shining in his eyes. In return, Mehar felt like bringing the knife hidden in her stockings to his neck. He felt like pulling out the gun his secretary carried and dashing the whole plan. neither could do what they wanted, not yet.

Black eyes for brown, this time hidden under thick lenses, and a reddish tint to the hair that used to match. He tilted his head little, oh he was sure about this.

Minus the wrinkles that were too generic to be real, this was exactly who he was hoping not to meet.

The chandelier playing with the lights sends it down in fragments upon them. The mirrors adorning the guest room focused on the two facing each other.

Tushar Malhotra was an internationally acclaimed jewelry designer. But the first time she met him three years ago- he had been a smuggler, Azael .

And he had gone from that, to an internationally acclaimed jewelry designer.

The staff waited, fidgeting as they both broke free from recollections. The handshake that followed wasn't obligatory. It was a challenge, lasting a second longer than necessary. That was more than enough to signal that they remembered one another, an abhorred acquaintance from over three years ago. But for now, he grinned while she ground her teeth.

Leaving him and his secretary under the care of one of her subordinates and having fixed a time in the evening to go over a banquet hall he had requested, she rode to her apartment. She was a comical sight trying to speed in a Vespa, her head way past the handlebars and hands gripping holes into it, but her thoughts were going faster.

Once in her room, she rummaged through boxes of old files till she came to the one she was looking for.

Three years before present day...

They were wading through the clouds. The sight through the porthole was one for gods, but Tushar could see nothing but the shimmer of green he had seen earlier.

The mesmerizing hue seemed to tint his eyes, unforgettably exquisite. Hidden away inside his spectacles were emeralds from Brazil.

The arms of his glasses were a case for these gems. It was easy to clip it open if you knew where to apply pressure. The vessel had been moulded out of plastic to mark the specific spot for the stones to sit.

These weren't ordinary gems. They were the emeralds of evermore. He had looked at the gems once, only once, when he packed it in.

But even though it's been over a day, Azael couldn't seem to get it off his mind. The glimmering green had imposed itself onto his consciousness.

Its previous owner had worn it to the deal, a gift from her late husband. The ageing lady who sold it to him was once the young bride of the international business tycoon- Oberoi. She was left with a mountain of debt now that he was gone and was settling it piece by piece.

No one knew her name when they were wedded, her identity shredded in a veil of mystery. And, since he wasn't around anymore, it was safer for her to keep it that way.

The mysterious and tragic widow had made the gem all the more enthralling to diamond dealers, including his employer.

The morbid interests of the rich and famous were none of his business, but the single exquisite teardrop she shed in honour of the jewel refused to leave his mind in peace.

"Sir, your drink." A voice interrupted his thoughts.

He jerked his head to look at her in surprise, making her stumble and spill the coffee on him.

He jumped up in surprise, and so did she and the hot coffee in her hands.

Now writhing with pain from the hot liquid soaking through his shirt, Tushar had set off the neatly arranged dominos. They waited to see him stagger, stumble and fall.