“Fuck me,” he mumbled as he set it aside and rubbed his hands over his face to try to clear the rest of his sleep-fogged brain.
The room was awash with a soft morning glow. His automatic blinds hadn’t even alerted him to the time of day.
The Stuart Hughes suit that he’d shed when he walked in the door was strewn across the wide chaise angled in the corner. The air still smelled like sandalwood from the cleaning service.
Spending the night at his bungalow at Bharat Mahal had helped clear his thoughts.
It apparently helped with catching up on sleep, too.
Ajay pulled back the covers and stretched, easing his sleep-sore muscles. Hopefully no one was tending the gardens, otherwise they’d get a show. He walked naked downstairs wearing nothing but his silver kara, the bracelet that he never took off. After some searching, he located his phone under a stack of files on the kitchen island.
“This is what happens when you take a break,” he said as he watched the messages load on his screen. He had over a hundred emails, sixteen voice mails, and forty-seven texts. He checked his assistant’s texts first.
RAFAEL (6:45 AM): Sir, please call me as soon as you are able. You had a conference call at 6:30 you missed.
“Shit,” Ajay muttered. That call was supposed to be with the distribution center in India that they were hoping to purchase. He scrolled to the next message.
RAFAEL (6:57 AM): Sir, your brothers are looking for you. I told them you were staying at your bungalow on the Singh family compound.
RAFAEL (7:15 AM): Sir, Hem is on his way to the family compound and should be there at approximately 8 a.m. I’ve rescheduled your morning meetings and calls before 9 a.m. Your brother Zail landed this morning from California and is also on his way. Please contact me.
“That’ll show me the next time I want to sleep in,” Ajay said.
RAFAEL (7:34 AM): Ajay, do I need to call your mother to go out there and find you? Am I clearing your schedule for the entire day? Your cousin Bhram is trying to reach you and is unable to do so, as well. By the way, I keep getting lilies at the office. I’d appreciate it if, during your conversation with Bhram, you told him to stop.
Before Ajay could call Rafael to let him know he was awake, his doorbell went off in a series of rings.
His brother. Always punctual.
Punjabi swearing came through the thick wood door loud and clear. “Oye! Are you dead? Answer the door!” Hem shouted in Punjabi.
“Oye, chutiya, I’m naked!” he said, swearing in the same language. He tossed his phone on the counter and rushed back to his room where he found a pair of boxers and tugged them on. If he answered the door in his birthday suit, Hem would probably whip out his dick and a ruler just to be the smartass older brother.
Less than thirty seconds later, Hem was still pounding on the door when he answered. “What the hell, bhai?”
His older brother rolled his eyes. He’d shaved, his hair was neatly styled, and he was dressed as if he was headed to work. “I came to see if you were alive. I’d think you’d have finished most of your workday already.”
“I’m a bit behind today.” Ajay stepped back for Hem to enter. “Is everything okay?”
“I should be asking you that,” Hem said. “Cha?”
“Yeah, if you’re making it.”
Hem toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of one of the barstools. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked as he rolled up the cuffs of his oxford shirt. His kara, identical to the one Ajay wore, glinted in the light.
“Bhai, I’m fine.”
“I’m only asking because you slept past four thirty, you’re naked, and you grew a beard. I don’t think you’ve shaved since before Dad had his second heart attack.”
Ajay sat on one of the barstools and ran his fingers through his facial hair. The memory came flooding back. His father wheezing. The car ride to the hospital following the screaming sirens of the ambulance. The hospital waiting room.
Hem had always been an astute bastard.
“Makes me look older. Besides, I’ve been busy.”
“Don’t I know it. You’re doing great, Ajay. But take care of yourself, too.” Hem started to pull the ingredients out of Ajay’s cabinet for the chai. Masala mix. Pot. Tea leaves. It was jarring at first to realize that Hem knew where everything was.
It made sense though. Hem rarely stayed at his place, but his bungalow was identical to his own. Zail’s was the same too, but he rarely used it since he was mostly on the West Coast overseeing Bharat’s operations. Ajay was the only regular visitor. To learn from his father, he had to be near him.
“Where is Mina?” he asked as he picked up his phone to scroll through some of his emails from the night before.
“At the office.” Hem poured loose-leaf tea into a pot of water. “I have to drag her away some nights. It’s as if she was starving for something new, something challenging. There is so much work to catch up on at my firm, she’s gorging herself on it all.”
“That’s good, right? You guys are working well together. Did you come out here to check on me or to talk about your new relationship?”
Hem hummed. “I’m here because I wanted to ask Mom for Nani’s ring.”
Ajay froze. “You’re going to marry her.”
Hem looked at Ajay over his shoulder. “Eventually. When she says she’s ready. I know I am, though, so I’m going to be prepared while I wait.”
“I’m happy for you,” Ajay said. He meant it, too. His brother looked relaxed. At ease. Almost two years ago he’d left the family compound, left the company, because he refused to fall in line with their father’s expectations. Now Hem was where he belonged.
The front door opened and Ajay swiveled to look at his latest visitor. His baby brother, dressed in a flannel shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and sporting a man bun and a freshly trimmed beard, strolled in as if he owned the place.
“Hey.” He paused when he saw Ajay sitting shirtless at the counter. “Dude, why are you naked?”
“Seriously? I’m in my own house minding my own business. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be on WesCo?”
“Touchy, touchy. I’m here for the Gupta wedding next weekend. The one we’re all required to go to.”
“Next weekend? Already?” Uncle Frankie was on the board at Bharat, and his granddaughter was getting married in the Indian wedding of the season. Festivities were supposed to start on Thursday and go through Sunday. “Is it Indian or American attire?”
“Both,” his brothers said in unison.
“Shit.” Ajay made a mental note to ask Rafael to secure the family gift for the bride and to also order clothes. He turned back to Zail. “Why are you here a week early, though?”
“I have a couple meetings to go over the budget for next year. I’m also spending some time with our new SVP of Legal. I texted you last night about it.” He kicked off his chappals next to Hem’s and straddled the vacant barstool. “Cha?”
“Yeah,” Hem replied. “Everything going okay?”
Zail rubbed his hands over his face. “You know that technology we’re working on? The one that WTA wants? Well, we filed a provisional patent application last November. It’s only good for a year. If we don’t finish the software in the next few months, we’re screwed.”