As Mina and Hem work to save Bharat, they not only uncover secrets that could threaten the existence of the company, but they also learn that in a winner-takes-all game, love always comes out on top.
Now on sale from Avon Books.
Chapter One
In seventy-two hours, Hemdeep Singh had flown halfway around the world, led seven meetings for his client, reviewed hundreds of OSHA guidance documents, and taken a tour of two plants and warehouse facilities. The final contract negotiations were underway, and if he could secure the multimillion-dollar agreement, he’d have another successful win for his new firm.
The hotel he used as his home base for negotiations in the Philippines was a hotbed for tycoons and wealthy families because it provided discretion and luxury. Next to the bar that snaked along one side of the waterfall, where bartenders decorated drinks with exotic flowers, Hem swirled the top-shelf whiskey in his tumbler before toasting Faisal Rao, a magnate in the renewable energy industry. Faisal was also a vicious negotiator and had graduated from a top ten law school before investing his family’s fortune in enterprise.
“Section 27.8 won’t affect your bottom line, but it’ll protect both my client and you from tax concerns.”
Faisal hummed and scratched his beard. “I’m likely to agree with you—”
“Then we can sign.”
“But I want my team to take a look at it.”
Damn it, Hem thought. There wasn’t a chance in hell of wrapping up the agreement within the hour if Faisal sent it back to his team. They were slow as shit.
“You know your business better than they do,” Hem countered. “It’s you that’s taking the risk.”
Faisal grinned. “That’s very true.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his thick chest. “That’s why I’m thinking my team should review it. I don’t want to make any rushed decisions since I’ll be paying the penalty.”
“We can go back and forth like this forever,” Hem said.
Faisal let out a laugh. “You’re right. And on that note, it’s nice to see another Indian from the States entrenched in global contract negotiation. We’re a rarity, and our conversations have been a pleasure. Are you a Singh from Rajasthan or Singh from—?”
“Punjab. Sikh Punjabi from Chandigarh. My relatives still live there.” Hem hated this type of small talk but if he could connect with Faisal on a personal level, then he’d bare his soul like he was talking to a shrink just to close the deal.
“My father’s family came from Chandigarh originally,” the man said with apparent joy. “My father was desperate to wear a turban and carry a sword in his youth like the traditional Sikh men he saw growing up. So he’s said. Honestly, your height should’ve clued me in. What are you, six-two?”
“Six-four.”
“Yes, your height is definitely a trademark quality of a Sikh man. You know, I was surprised that Tevish was using such a young firm to handle the negotiation. It couldn’t have just been your height and looks that landed his account.”
Pride.
Faisal was dragging his feet because his pride was injured. Hem relaxed in his seat and grinned at his opponent. Here he was, CEO of a successful midsize business, having to work with an outside law firm on a negotiation. Hem could understand executives that were level-conscious. He’d been the same way when he first started working with his father. It had taken him some time to learn that Deepak Singh didn’t care what position a person held in his company. They were all treated with respect. That didn’t mean executives outside Bharat agreed with the same philosophy, though.
“Tevish’s family has deep connections with mine. I worked as an executive for my family business for years after law school so he knew that I could handle something as important as your agreement.”
“Oh? What’s your family business?”
“Bharat, Inc.”
Faisal’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Your father is . . .”
“Deepak Singh, yes.”
“Why aren’t you still working for the company?”
“Because my father’s business is growing and I need to expand my experience to help it along. Having the right industry knowledge is important in the technology space.”
He’d repeated those words so many times and they felt stale on his tongue. Very few people knew of the heartache, the pain that had triggered his decision to leave. His parents and their involvement in his life were part of the reason why he’d lost his fiancée. Working closely with them was too difficult after he’d gotten his heart obliterated. On top of that, he needed to follow his passion. He’d only ever known Bharat, and it felt too unstructured, too relaxed for him. He wanted more, needed more, and starting his own law firm and investment group had been the best thing he’d ever done.
“Come on, Faisal,” Hem said when he was met with silence. “You can’t be scared of me now that you know my history.”
Faisal’s fingers fluttered over the edges of the tablet he’d been referencing. “I’m scared of nobody, kid. I’ve been at this for a lot longer than you. Honestly, I simply wanted to know how you got so damn good at bullshitting. Now I know. It makes sense why Tevish sent you now.”
Hem grinned. He was closing in on the win. He could feel it. “You should’ve never doubted him.”
Hem felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he discreetly reached inside his jacket and silenced the device. “Sign the contract. You’ll make a shit ton of money if you do.”
“I’m beginning to warm to the idea. Only because I have a feeling you’ll never stop bugging me until I do.”
Hem’s phone began to buzz again.
“Do you need to get that?”
The phone stopped. “No, I—” When it started buzzing again, he took it out and read his brother’s name on the screen. “Yeah, actually, give me a second.” He didn’t spare Faisal another look as he stood from the small table they’d occupied and walked a few feet away for some privacy.
“Ajay, what is it?”
His brother’s gruff voice answered immediately. “I’m calling in the troops, brother.”
“I’ll be back in New York in two days.”
“No, you have to come home now.”
Hem snorted. “Home? Like the estate? It’s better if I keep my distance for a little while longer. Dad still shits himself every time I’m around.”
“I’m not fucking around, Hem.”
Something in Ajay’s voice drained Hem’s humor. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you checked your email yet?”
“No, was I supposed to?”
“Do it.”
Hem opened up his email and saw a message forwarded from his brother. The original message came from Hans Fineburg, CEO of WTA Digital.
TO THE CEO AND CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD, BOARD OF DIRECTORS, AND LEADERSHIP COUNCIL OF BHARAT, INC.
This missive, adherent to SEC guidelines, constitutes a formal offer of purchase . . .
“What the fuck is this?” Hem snapped.
“That’s not all of it,” Ajay said. “Dad had a heart attack after the letter hit our inboxes this morning.”