The heavy wooden door of Armaan's private bedroom clicked shut behind them with a finality that echoed through the spacious room. Anaysha stood there trembling her wrists bound tightly behind her back with coarse rope that dug into her soft skin. Her white salwar kameez was torn at the shoulder from the earlier struggle exposing the delicate strap of her bra. At twenty she had the kind of innocent beauty that could make even the most controlled man lose his restraint. Long dark hair cascaded messily down her back. Wide fearful eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. Full lips trembled with every shaky breath she took.