“Most decisions I now defer to my son.”
Ajay’s heart clenched with love and gratitude.
“Dad, as it turns out, Ms. Hothi and I are already in discussions for an . . . opportunity.”
“Really?” Uncle Frankie leaned forward. “Deepak, what do you think about this? Should the board get involved?”
“Mr. Gupta,” Raj said, her voice holding a strain of surprise. “As a board member, do you question all of Bharat’s decisions? That’s a lot of micromanaging, don’t you think?”
“Well, I—”
“I expect my board to support me and know that I am invested in the success of my company. I’m sure Ajay feels the same.”
Ajay raised an eyebrow at Raj. “Uncle Frankie will have to soon see me as a leader and not the boy running around his backyard during Holi celebrations in the spring.”
“Deepak,” Uncle Frankie said, motioning to both Raj and Ajay. “These kids . . .”
Deepak put his hands up. “I know. They know more than we do, which is why I am convinced that Bharat will be in good hands. And Raj, I look forward to seeing what you and my son do together.”
The music changed and a slow song filtered through the speakers around the room.
“Oh, that’s the second to last song before dinner service,” Uncle Frankie said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my table. I hope you enjoy the reception tonight!”
He and Peter said their goodbyes before walking toward the left side of the ballroom.
“You two should dance,” Ajay’s father said. He motioned to the couples who had stepped onto the floor. “Take advantage of the music!”
“I have to get you back to the table, too,” Ajay said.
“I’m old, puttar, but I’m strong enough to walk across a room by myself. Raj? Come out to New Jersey sometime. My wife is a wonderful cook. We’ll talk more about business and your family. Okay?”
Something flickered in Raj’s expression, but she held that serene smile on her face. “That sounds lovely. I look forward to it.”
With one last pointed look at Ajay, Deepak Singh shuffled back toward his table. Hem met him halfway across the room, and despite what looked like an obvious protest, Deepak leaned on his eldest son the rest of the way to his chair.
“Well?” Ajay said to Raj. “Care to dance?”
She looked around the room and raised a brow. “You’re going to call attention to yourself. Everyone is probably going to find out the minute they see us together that I’m a soon-to-be divorcée. Not exactly an aunty favorite.”
“Fuck ’em.”
“You know I’m only here because I want a deal,” Raj said.
Ajay leaned in and, with immense satisfaction, saw desire in her eyes. “If you want me, then you’re going to have to work for it.”
She looked down at Ajay’s arm and then met his gaze before she let him lead her to the center of the dance floor.
There was barely an inch between them, and Ajay couldn’t help thinking they fit so incredibly well together. The heat from her hands as they curled over his shoulder and around his palm was deliciously warm. Her hair hung in loose waves to the small of her back, and it brushed over his knuckles. She smelled like honey and spice, and he’d bet if he leaned in to press his lips to the curve of her neck, she’d taste just as delicious.
She tilted her chin up at him as if to ask what he was thinking. Their eyes met as they slowly swayed to the deep timbre of a voice singing a Punjabi love song.
“I wasn’t going to do this, you know,” he said. “Dance with you. Flirt with you. Be with you. You’re now a potential investment.”
Her husky laugh was like smooth bourbon sliding through his system. “Darling, no one is asking you to be a gentleman. I often find that when Punjabis act chivalrous, they’re lions wearing sheep’s clothing. Other than your father when he was defending you, I haven’t met any other who has proven me wrong.”
“We’ve come a long way since your childhood in the motherland,” Ajay said in Punjabi.
She looked up at him, surprise in her expression.
He spun her in a circle and brought her closer. “Oh yes. I know how to look into someone’s bio, too. You haven’t gone back since you were eighteen and have very little connection with the Indian community here.”
“I can still spot a lion when I see one.”
“Soni,” he said, knowing that the Punjabi word for beautiful fit her more perfectly than any English endearment could. “Lion or not, I don’t let people play me. I thought we’d established that.”
He skimmed his fingertips up to touch the exposed skin between her shoulder blades before sliding his hand down again to rest at the small of her back.
“Ajay, if you’re going to lead, then don’t hesitate in business, either. Stop letting people like Frankie get away with making comments like that in public. If you don’t, he will continue to undermine your authority and other people will start doing the same thing.”
He hummed in agreement and felt her falter in his arms for a moment.
“What?”
“You’re not going to brush me off? Tell me that you don’t need advice from a woman?”
Ajay leaned in until his lips were a breath away from the shell of her ear. “Who am I to turn down sound advice? I need all of the help I can get.”
Her breath hitched, and when Ajay pulled back, he could tell that there was heat in her eyes. Her desire only fueled his own.
“Now that,” she said slowly, “was a damn good line.”
Before he could pull her closer and screw both of their reputations, the song ended and Raj slipped out of his arms. She gave a regal nod and turned to the opposite end of the ballroom.
“I think my table is over on that side,” she said.
“I’ll escort you.”
“No need. People will talk.”
“They’ll talk anyway.”
Ajay tucked her hand under his arm and walked with her in silence. They shared one last look before Ajay turned and crossed the expanse of the ballroom to his family.
His parents eyed him with interest, even as Ajay pulled out a chair and sat down.
Ajay’s father leaned over and said, “I like her.”
“She’s definitely an interesting woman.”
“What’s the deal?” he asked. “The business deal, I mean.”
His father had a twinkle in his eyes. The old man was up to something, but Ajay relented and answered the question, starting with the type of services she provided and ending with the meeting that took place earlier in the week.
“What are you thinking, puttar?”
“Papa, I haven’t decided.” He lowered his voice. Even though his brothers and mother were distracted by the waitstaff delivering food, he wanted to make sure they couldn’t hear him. “I want the family to be aligned on this but Zail is . . . not.”
“Being aligned is not always going to be possible and you know it.” His father picked up a triangle of naan. “But for what it’s worth, I think it’s a solid business investment.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he said, and then switched to Punjabi. “Bharat didn’t grow to its current size because I made safe decisions. Your gut is telling you this is a good risk, and you should listen.”