“Jia.”
That was better. She hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. I needed to make a detour to grab a shot of espresso before I came here. I didn’t sleep much last night.” She’d also bought a new pair of shoes at the mall, but he didn’t need to know how she coped with her stress.
“Not a problem at all. I am accustomed to being too early to things.”
She sat down opposite him. Though the tables were far apart, the one they were sitting at was rather small. Too small.
A cheerful waiter popped over. His eyes widened slightly when he took in Dev, but otherwise he gave no outward sign that he recognized either of them. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”
She nodded. “Iced tea, please, unsweetened.”
“I’ll have a glass of Malbec, thank you.”
“Do you need a minute with the menu?”
“No, thank you.” Ordering food would make this more intimate, and she needed to keep Real Dev and Fantasy Dev separate in her mind.
Dev handed both their menus to the waiter. “How was your day?” he asked politely when the man left.
Utterly unproductive. She’d shot a video for the goody bag unboxing, dodged one of her older sister’s calls because she feared her foolishness would seep through the phone line, lain on the couch for an hour feeling bad for herself, fallen asleep, and then accidentally deleted the goody bag video. “Good. How about yours?” Small talk was fine, if that was where he wanted to start. She could make small talk in her sleep, and it delayed them having to discuss the mortifying events that had led to this evening out.
“Good. It was my first day filming the new show.”
“That’s cool. Did you like it?”
“It’s different from what I’ve done before. But I shouldn’t expect an evening American drama to be like a Hindi serial I suppose.”
He had never talked about his work in his texts. Another red flag she’d ignored. “Different in a bad way?”
“I’m not sure yet. Just different.”
She nodded. “I liked your soap.”
“You watched it?”
“I’d watch it occasionally, yes, over the past year. I don’t speak Hindi, so I had to hunt down subtitled episodes.”
He rested his arms on the table. The candlelight on the table reflected against his eyeglasses. “What did you think?”
“They were entertaining. I don’t know how you kept a straight face for some of those story lines.”
He angled his face, and within a blink, he became Raj, his character, complete with haughty sniff. “I think my evil twin trapping me in a cave for two months so he can take over my life is quite serious actually.”
She chuckled.
He dropped the act and his eyes warmed. “You look lovely tonight, by the way.”
His voice was low and intimate and it sent goose bumps across her arms. “Thanks.” Mentally, she slapped herself. What was she doing here, chatting with him like everything was fine? Those goose bumps were far too unnerving. Enough small talk. “Can we . . . can we talk about the incident?”
Dev nodded, but paused while their drinks arrived. He twirled the stem of the wineglass between his fingers. “I don’t quite know how to say this, Jia, except to note that I am deeply sorry. I have never contacted you, not from my social media, not via text.”
“You already said that.” And it hurt just as much, hearing it now, as it had then. “So who was it?”
“I believe . . . my brother and my cousin may have worked in concert to send the messages.”
Who knew it was possible to choke on air? She inhaled so sharply her lungs contracted and she started coughing. It took her a second to get over her fit.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she wheezed. “I’m sorry, did you say . . . your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have another brother who is alive?”
“No.”
That was a tasteless way to remind him of his brother’s death, Jia, her inner mom scolded. “I mean . . . what?”
“There is some strong evidence my brother may have contacted you, a year ago, before he passed away. My cousin has his phone. I believe he started messaging you a couple months ago when you reached out again.”
She cradled her head in her hands. “This is some bananas level stuff.”
“I am aware.”
“And your cousin confessed all this to you?”
“Not in so many words, but I could read between the lines. He won’t answer my calls now.”
“What did I do to make them hate me?”
Dev’s fingers tightened around his glass. “I don’t think they hate you. I think it was a prank aimed at me. You simply were the vehicle for the prank.”
“Oh cool. That makes me feel great.” She jabbed her finger against her chest. “I’m the one who got hurt here.”
“I agree. I’m sorry you were placed in the middle of this.”
His immediate apology doused some of her ire. Some of it, not all of it. “What kind of messed-up family do you have?”
Dev’s sigh was so weary, she might have felt bad for him if she hadn’t been very much caught up in this. He replied, “A more messed-up one than I previously imagined.”
“How old is your cousin? Is he a child?”
“Only in maturity. He’s thirty.”
She racked her memory. Why hadn’t she cared more about Bollywood movies? “It’s . . . Arjun. Right?”
“Correct. You’ve seen his movies?”
“No, I don’t care for college sex romps.”
His laugh was strained. “I shall make sure to remember that phrase when I speak with him next. It will make him extremely angry.”
Thank God she hadn’t said anything particularly intimate or sexy in those texts. Blech. “This was a terrible thing to do.”
“I agree.” Dev’s tone hardened. “I will figure out some way to ensure Arjun never does something like this again. He will not get out of this without consequence. In the meantime, Ms. Ahmed . . .” He reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out a check and a pen. He leaned forward, placed it on the coffee table, and wrote on it. He slid it over to her, across the table. “Please take this as a token of my family’s regrets.”
Jia looked at the zeroes, and a deep, inescapable anger flared to life in her belly. The heroine is aghast, that the villain’s cousin thinks she can be bought off. “This is in dollars?”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back. She was actually pretty proud of herself. A year ago, she would have jumped on him and ripped his hair out by the roots for this insulting offer. “What are the conditions on this check?”
“No conditions.”
“So I can take this money, deposit the check, and then go tell a tabloid about what your brother and cousin did to me?”
He blinked. “I trust you’ll be discreet about this.”
So it was hush money. “I want a million.”
His fingers rested lightly on the check. “Dollars?”
“Yes.”