“I know you don’t want to marry Virat,” Sanjeev continued. “I also know you’ll do whatever it takes to become partner. I’m willing to give you another opportunity. One that doesn’t include an arranged marriage. Make the WTA deal happen, Mina. If you can’t, then it’s wedding bells for you. Unless of course, you’d rather be unemployed.”
Sanjeev looked too smug, too content. Was he testing her, or trying to get rid of her? She’d do anything to get her mother’s company back, except lose her integrity.
“I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. Sanjeev, you aren’t seriously asking me to sabotage the vote.”
“This is how the real world works, Mina. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. Bharat is in the process of registering a patent for software that can locate moving targets traveling over two hundred miles an hour with ninety-eight point eight seven percent accuracy. It’s my friend’s latest invention in an effort to find missing persons across the world. However, I’m a lawyer and a businessman. I know that they’ll never be able to do it. WTA has the resources and manpower to successfully execute the research.”
“How the hell did you find this out?”
“Oh, the R&D team presented to the board last quarter,” Sanjeev said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Just look like you’re doing a due diligence review, but in the end, your report should have one conclusion. It’s not only for your future’s sake, but also because it’s the smartest move.”
Sanjeev wasn’t telling her the whole truth. That much was clear. He was asking Mina to jeopardize her license and do something unethical for the sake of staying at the firm. Did she appear so driven that he assumed she’d consider risking her future for a chance at a partner position?
Mina should’ve thrown his proposition back in his face, when something about his expression made her pause.
Bingo.
If she pretended to go through with his plan, it would buy her time to find out if her uncle had waded into anything illegal himself.
She stood and picked up her bag. “Fine. I’ll consider . . . all of this. When do we leave for the board meeting?”
“Two hours. Remember, I’m counting on you to make the right decision for both your career and this law firm. It’s about time I get some use out of you.”
Her hand tightened on her purse handle. “I’ll be in my office.”
She left the stifling room, her brain running through legal ethics violations and consequences that Sanjeev could be involved in when she ran straight into Sangeeta.
“Uh, Ms. Kohli? Your coffee and card.”
“Oh. Thanks, Sangeeta.”
Sangeeta picked up a small wrapped package from her desk and held it out. “And I got you this,” she said quietly. “I was reviewing your employment contract for signature and saw your birth date. I know you haven’t celebrated it in a while, and a croissant isn’t much compared to a cake but . . .”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to—”
“Happy thirtieth birthday.”
“Oh. Uh . . . thanks.” Mina took the pastry, feeling queasy at the idea of eating anything at the moment. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. You have your whole life ahead of you, Mina. Don’t waste it . . . here with some of these people.”
With a sigh, Mina dropped the pastry and card into her bag. “I don’t know where else I’d rather be. I feel closest to Mama here. Thanks again, Sangeeta.”