Ajay nodded. “You’re not matchmaking, are you?”
His father grinned, and the smile was a carefree, beautiful sight to see. It had been way too long since Deepak Singh smiled.
“Papa,” he said after a moment. “She’s still married. And now we’re looking to buy her company.”
His father’s response was a shrug. “I really like her. Possibilities aren’t just for technology and science. They’re for people, too. Raj Hothi is a smart possibility for you. Just because she has a past doesn’t make her any less qualified.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” Ajay said.
“No, you’re just not keeping up.”
He leaned into his wife’s side to take her naan. They shared a familiar look filled with love.
Ajay began eating the food that had been placed in front of him even as his thoughts continued to center around Raj. He was interested, but that was where it would have to end. He had an obligation to his family, to his legacy.
Chapter Seven
Rajneet
AJAY SINGH: I’ll need financials, corporate docs, everything you got.
RAJ: Did yesterday’s wedding sell you? Are we making a deal?
AJAY SINGH: Not yet, Rajneet. But send docs to my counsel, cc me. I want to see what I’m working with and I’ll call you tomorrow.
RAJ: My Mondays are usually busy, but I’ll clear my calendar for you.
AJAY SINGH: Oh? Your evening, too?
RAJ: It depends on how interesting you’re willing to make the negotiations.
Raj sat behind her glass desk surrounded with paperwork. Her head of Legal, Harnette, occupied one of the off-white chairs across from her, while her assistant, Tracey, sat in the other. They’d been hovering over their tablets and laptops for the last hour and a half.
“I think that covers it for prepping Bharat,” Raj said to two of her oldest employees. “If Bharat needs anything else, then route the request to my cell phone. I’ll handle it personally. This is just talk. I don’t want to alarm anyone.”
She was met with nods.
“Do we have anything else?”
Her assistant nodded. “The animal shelter in Midtown. They called and wanted to ask if you could come down after the fifteenth. They said that you may be interested in seeing some of the animals that are coming in.”
Raj felt her heart jump and pressed a hand to her chest. She’d wanted one for so long, but with getting her business off the ground and with Robert’s allergies, it had never been possible. But now . . .
“Was it—” She cleared her throat. “Was it Jill who called?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
Jill managed the shelter. She also knew exactly what Raj wanted.
The news had her itching to call Jill for more information right that second. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded at Tracey. “Thank you for the message. Please add it to my calendar for the weekend following the fifteenth. Let Jill know that I’m seriously considering this time. Now that is taken care of, why don’t you two order lunch? On me. You deserve it.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Harnette said with a smile.
“Me, too,” Tracey added. “Want me to order something for you, too, boss?”
“Sure. Use my corporate card.”
Tracey gave a thumbs-up. Before she could stand, the cell phone she gripped in her other hand let out a shrill.
She tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder. “Raj Hothi’s office.”
Raj watched her assistant’s eyes go wide. She shot a look at Harnette, who had also remained seated.
“What is it?” Raj asked.
Tracey pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the mute button on the screen. “It’s security downstairs. They said they stopped a man from entering the building. He wants to see you. Claims he’s your brother. Do you even have a brother?”
Raj felt her stomach pitch and nausea roil in her gut. Her first instinct was to have security throw him out, but that would only delay the inevitable. Guru had endless patience. Even when they were kids, he’d been able to wait her out. She remembered that he’d hide in the poppy fields during Holi and then blast her with colored water from a squirt gun when she got tired of hiding.
She refused to hide in her own damn office now.
Raj tapped her red nails against her desk as she debated her options. If she tried to ignore him, he would just wait for her to leave work.
No, ignoring was a coward’s way. It was what her mother would do, and she was not her mother. She wasn’t going to just let someone walk into her life and make demands that she accepted without argument. No, this was her company, her territory.
“Boss, what do you want—”
“Ask for his name.” She knew what it would be, but it was important for Guru to realize that she wasn’t going to welcome him into her life.
Tracey unmuted the phone and spoke into the receiver. She paused as security responded to her question, and then said, “Guru Hothi.”
“Okay, tell security to send him up. Move my call with Kia at Gen One by ten minutes. Harnette, you can head out, too.”
“Raj, are you sure?” Harnette asked. “Tracey and I, or one of your other senior VPs can stay with you.”
“No, I’m fine. Guru is an old . . . acquaintance.”
They looked at each other, as if trying to determine whether or not to believe Raj’s brush-off, before they walked to the door.
“Let us know if you need us,” Tracey said.
“Thanks, Tracey.”
She watched them walk toward their desks through the glass wall of her office before she turned to her windows. Her view wasn’t as impressive as that of the Singh brothers, but she was still proud of it.
“Gudiya.”
The endearment was spoken in a rough, deep timbre. She turned slowly, and barely controlled her jaw from dropping.
The last time she’d seen her brother he was thirty and looked like a walking advertisement for how not to wear designer clothes. He was the son of a Punjabi mob boss with a gold spoon tucked between his teeth.
And now he looked like the mob boss himself.
Guru Hothi’s leather pants and jacket had been replaced with a fitted gray suit and a pagadi that matched the color of his subtle pinstripes. Gone were the ostentatious watch and layers of gold chains. Instead, his Rolex was a bit more tasteful, and his jewelry was limited to a kara on his wrist, two gold rings, and a diamond stud in one ear. He stroked a hand over a closely trimmed beard.
“I haven’t changed that much for you to keep staring at me like that,” he said in Punjabi.
“What are you doing here, Guru?”
“Trying to chase you down when I have better things to do back in India.” He strolled across her office and pulled out the chair Tracey had recently vacated. He dropped into it and crossed an ankle over his knee. “How have you been?”
Seeing him was like a kick in the teeth. He reminded her of everything she’d escaped and everything she missed. “I’m going to ask you one more time before I tell you to get out. What are you doing here, Guru?”
He looked up at her, straight in the eyes, and said coolly, “Mom is dying. She has six months, maybe less. She wants to see you before she’s gone.”