by Nisha Sharma
Hem shrugged, and his expression became solemn. “I started working here before college and continued for a while after. Then I started my own place. Working a lot has its disadvantages. I usually spend my Friday nights reviewing documents.”
“So there isn’t anything that could tempt you into going out instead of working?”
Mina regretted the question the moment it popped out of her mouth. Damn it, she wasn’t supposed to flirt with him! She had a job to do, and even though he—
“It depends if you’re the one tempting me to go.” He gave her a heated expression that had her mouth going dry.
“Would you go if I asked?”
“If I say yes, do I get brownie points for honesty?”
“No.” She motioned to the empty room. She felt flushed and that only meant that she needed to get some space, some clarity away from this man. “As fun as this banter has been, in here we are strictly professionals. We have a job to do.”
“Professionals. You’ve used that word before. Is it a personal favorite?”
“Mr. Singh.”
“Hem. I feel like we’re past formalities now.” He hadn’t moved any closer, but his laser-focused stare had Mina growing impossibly warmer under his scrutiny. “I’m not going to apologize for being attracted to you, but yes. I’ll support you on this project without distractions.”
“Damn it, Hem.”
“Let’s get started, Mina. We’ll keep it, as you like to say, professional. For now.”
Chapter Six
After two days of staring at numbers, projections, and reports while trying to avoid Hem, Mina was ready for a cocktail. She took the first sip from her martini glass and groaned when the smooth liquor slid down her throat. The bite and blend were exactly what she needed after a long week. She scanned the exclusive VIP section at The Ice Palace and wondered if she was the only person there without any intention of going home with someone else.
The club was a two-story renovated warehouse in the meatpacking district. Every wall, surface, uniform, and piece of furniture was in a shade of icy white, gray, or blue. The couches were plush velour, and the waitstaff was barely dressed. The music pumped hot and loud on the first-level dance floor but was a few decibels quieter on the exclusive second floor.
“So how goes the due diligence review for the Punjabi company?” Rajneet asked. “Or is it just one Punjabi that still has your attention?” She sat across from Mina in a dress cut to her navel and slit to her hips. She was bronzed and toned, her hair perfectly tousled, and her lips a deep cherry red. She had a scotch in one hand and wore a golf ball-size diamond on the other.
“I am never like this, Raj. I have too many things on my plate right now to be like this.”
“Honey, you’ve always had too many things on your plate. That’s why you don’t date. I think a nice distraction is in order.”
“Well, he’s definitely that. I don’t know why but whenever we talk, he’s so, I don’t know. Intense and charming all at the same time. I’m not used to that.”
“When you first mentioned him, the name rang a bell, but I wasn’t sure where. I had to do some digging, but I found gossip. You interested?”
“Uh, yes! Please. This man has me so confused and I could use any ammo you have.”
Rajneet began ticking fingers in the air like she was writing on a board. “Hemdeep Singh. Graduated Ivy League. Studied computer science but showed an aptitude for corporate law. He started as an associate in his father’s company but quickly accelerated in the ranks. He’d been working there since he was fifteen, so just as much hard work as it was legacy. Mysteriously left the company a year and a half ago to start his own firm. Rumor has it that he opposed the company going public and he and his father disagreed to the point where they couldn’t work together. There was also a woman involved apparently.”
Mina’s jaw dropped. A pang of jealousy stabbed her in the chest, and it was so foreign that she didn’t know what to do with it. “What—what happened?”
“She left him. She was also a lawyer. They knew each other from school but didn’t start dating until a few years ago. I don’t think they were at the altar quite yet, but deposits were paid, that’s for sure. No one knows for sure why that ended, either.”
“Wow, that’s . . . well. I’m surprised nothing made it to TMZ or at least India Abroad. How did you find this out?”
Raj waved a hand. “It’s nothing. Oh, last thing. Some people think the middle brother is the one tanking the company, not his father. He took over after Bharat went public.”
After meeting all three Singhs, Mina wasn’t sure why the company wasn’t succeeding. The employees she met seemed happy and were loyal to the family. The reports showed that they were on the right trajectory. She knew something was going on, and that her uncle was a part of the mess.
“So?” Raj said. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“That you plan on getting engaged, Mina. That your uncle is using you as pawn and you’re thinking about agreeing to a match made in business bliss.”
“I haven’t agreed to the arranged marriage yet. And I may not have to. Depending on how this due diligence turns out.”
“Mina, do me a favor and say no to Virat. Don’t wait for the results on Bharat’s case.”
“I figured you’d be in full support of something like this.”
Across the icy white café table that separated them, Mina saw the regret in Raj’s eyes. “Robert and I decided to marry not because we loved each other, but because we knew we’d make good partners in business. He wanted a socialite that could help him network, and I wanted someone who could help me stay in this country while I got my business off the ground. Although my marriage hasn’t been terrible since we’re both getting what we wanted out of it, it’s loveless. Robert and I are friendly, but we’re not friends. We work together, but we don’t trust each other. He has his business and social schedule, his discreet affairs, while I have mine. Is that something you really want, Mina? An arrangement with contracts? You have so much passion in you, so much fire. Don’t let business and your mission for revenge snuff out that light.”
Mina drank again, thinking about her friend’s words. She admired Raj. So many people questioned her skills, her motives, and her lifestyle. Despite that, she carried herself like a queen, giving the finger to anyone and everyone who dared step in her way. But the stress of having no one to come home to, no one who understood her true passions and hopes and dreams, had to be exhausting.
A man approached their roped-off section. Normally Raj’s security would stop him, but he was immediately ushered in.
“Why hello, handsome,” Raj said as the man perched on the edge of her seat. He was clean-cut, polished, and a little too soft around the edges.
“Darling,” the man said in a crisp British accent. He took her hand in his and kissed it. “It’s been too long since you’ve made an appearance.”
“Business calls. This is my friend Mina. It’s her birthday. Tell her happy birthday, love.”
The man turned to her. His gray eyes nearly glowed, they matched the decor of their surroundings so well. “Happy birthday, love.”
“Uh, thanks.”
The man stroked a finger down the side of Raj’s neck. “The Fire Lounge has our name on it, darling. Can I steal you away and worship you for a bit?”
Mina choked and began to cough.
“Mina, you okay?” Raj said, reaching out and handing her a napkin.
“Fine,” she said hoarsely. “Went down the wrong tube.”
The British man seemed undisturbed by Mina’s interruption. “Darling? The Fire Lounge is waiting.”
“Not tonight. I’m here celebrating with my friend.”
Mina waved a hand. “No, you should go get, uh, worshiped. I have to leave soon anyway.”
“What? It’s only eleven!”
“I have no idea what you’re doing with the body colonizer,” Mina s
aid in Punjabi, “but don’t worry about me. I have to get up early and work tomorrow anyway.”
“I don’t like leaving you. I’m the one who asked you to come out.”
“I’m a big girl. Seriously.”
Raj leaned down and hugged Mina. “I’ll go, but why don’t you relax for a bit? I’ll leave security here for you in case too many of these pushy types try to bother you. But of course, you know I encourage it, considering your situation.”
Mina rolled her eyes and shooed her friend away.
Raj kissed the tips of her fingers and patted Mina’s cheek before she disappeared in the crowd. Mina hoped that her friend found some sort of happiness in the brief affairs and indulgences.
She glanced at her watch and the sliver of remaining liquid in her glass. “Happy birthday to me,” she said and downed the contents.
“Now that’s a terribly sad-looking drink for a birthday celebration,” she heard a familiar voice say.
Hem stood next to Raj’s security in black slacks and a fitted gray sweater that clung to wide shoulders and biceps so delicious they should be illegal.
“What are you doing here?”
“Trying to relax after a very long week.” He glared at Raj’s security, and to Mina’s shock, the man stepped to the side. In seconds she was enveloped by the scent and presence of the man who’d plagued her thoughts. Instead of taking Raj’s seat, he collapsed on the small available space next to her and draped an arm along the back of the sofa.
“What’s with the muscle?”
“He’s my friend’s hire. She sometimes gets a lot of negative attention.”
“Oh? Where’s your friend?”
“The Fire Lounge.”
Hem’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, well. You keep interesting company if you know someone who is heading to the windowless, camera-less room.”
Mina grinned. “I thought you didn’t know about this place.”
“I asked around. I’m glad you invited me out.”
He may be distracting, but he kept her on her toes, and that was sexy all by itself. “Technically, I didn’t invite you. I hinted at an invite.”
“Oh? Is that what it was? My mistake. But since I’m here . . .”
“This is the shit people do late on Friday nights when they aren’t working?” Zail’s voice broke through Mina’s trance and she jolted when the youngest Singh collapsed in the sofa across from her. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, and he wore a button-down that fit him just as snugly as Hem’s.
“Zail Singh. It’s a . . . okay. I didn’t expect you to be here, too.”
“We can skip the formalities,” Zail said with a wave of his hand. “Especially since I’m here as a wingman in case you make him cry. Wow, I can barely hear myself think in this place. People come here for fun?”
The Ice Palace was in full swing and although the VIP section was quieter, the walls practically vibrated from the noise. Mina inched away, trying to create some space between herself and the hot, hard body next to her.
“To be completely honest, it’s not my first choice.”
“Mine either,” Zail mumbled.
“What do you think now that you’re finally here?”
“I think I need a drink.”
“Hear, hear,” Zail said. He pointed to Mina’s glass. “Want a whiskey?”
“No, a martini. I don’t think I’ve ever really tried whiskey. Maybe in college once, but it always smelled too strong for me.”
The pained looks of horror that flashed across both Hem’s and Zail’s faces were almost comical.
“What about trying it under the guidance of a whiskey expert?” Hem said. He pressed a hand to his chest. “I can take care of you.”
“I’m sure you can,” she murmured.
His eyes narrowed on hers, and her breath caught at the hunger she saw reflected in them. “Are you asking for something more than whiskey, Mina Kohli?”
“No, I—no. Whiskey. I’ll try just the whiskey for now.” She flagged down a waitress even as she fought to control the tingles coursing through her body.
When a woman with leotard-clad hips approached them, Zail took the lead. He ordered three different brands. “And two of each, one neat, one on the rocks. And water backs, please.”
The woman nodded before she walked away.
“Why did you order six?” Mina asked.
“Because you need to try a variety to really learn how to drink,” Hem replied.
A few moments later, six whiskeys were placed on the cafe table in front of them with three waters. Hem handed her a tumbler and took one for himself. Zail examined two different glasses before opting for whiskey neat.
They held up their glasses and shouted “Maujaa!”
Mina grinned at the Punjabi toast and sipped her drink. The alcohol burned her throat, and the bitterness lingered in her mouth like a bad taste.
“That’s . . . not that bad,” she said.
“What? It’s great! Okay, try this.”
Mina shook her head. “Two drinks is my limit.” Ever since her mother’s accident, she maintained a sober policy. She knew how alcohol destroyed lives.
Hem turned to face her, mouth agape. “What the hell do you mean, two is your limit? When was the last time you went to a Punjabi wedding?”
“Uh, never?”
Zail choked on his second glass.
Two scantily clad women waved at Zail from the next couch over. Their dresses were practically sheer, and they flipped bleached hair and pouted glossy lips. “We could help you with that,” one said.
Zail glared and made a twirling motion with his finger. Mina muffled a laugh as they squeaked and immediately turned around in their seats.
“What about a basic desi party?” Hem pressed. “Haven’t you had a few drinks at a Diwali celebration? Holi? Any of those.”
Mina shrugged. “My mother died when I was a teenager during the time I started taking an interest in parties and friends. When it was just my father and I, we just . . . I don’t know, functioned as roommates. I went to school, then law school where almost all of my friends were white, and that was it. I was out on my own. I was too busy studying and then working.”
“Okay fair enough. What if you try it out? I promise I won’t let anything happen to you if you do.”
She saw the sincerity in his face, and after a moment of reminding herself that this was different than the situation her mother had been in, she held out a hand to Zail.
“Suck another one down, Kohli,” Zail said. “It’s time to be educated. Try it on the rocks.”
She had to admit, she was curious how whiskey neat tasted. She wasn’t driving, and if she really needed rescuing, Raj would come out of the Fire Lounge. Mina took another, pausing to enjoy the feel of Hem’s hand rubbing the small of her back. She looked at him and raised her glass.
“Maujaa,” she said.
Hem grinned and repeated the toast before downing his own drink.
Mina did the same, and this time, the burn was a welcome, warm sensation. It tasted different. Smoother this time.
“Guys? I think I like whiskey,” she said.
“Another round then.” Hem moved closer to her, and she relaxed against his side. His smell was intoxicating and she enjoyed it like a heady drug while more glasses were placed in front of them.
“Is this what you brothers do together?”
“When we get together these days, it’s usually business, but every now and then we like to finish a couple bottles, yes.”
“A couple bottles?”
Hem brushed a curl over her shoulder and cupped the back of her neck. “A couple bottles, Mina.”
She shivered under his touch and watched Hem’s eyes darken. Before he could lean in, which was exactly what he looked like he wanted to do, a waitress placed six more glasses in front of them.
“This one has peach nectar, and this has cherry.” She motioned to Mina. “If you’re more of a flavored martini drinker, this m
ight be to your taste.”
Zail waved a hand. “Oh, she won’t want that—”
“I do. Thank you,” Mina said. When the waitress left again, she turned to Zail. “Don’t ever think you can speak for me.”
The youngest Singh held his hands up. “It tastes gross with that stuff in it but if you want that garbage, you’re more than welcome to it.”
Mina reached for the peach one first. “Maujaa!” she shouted and tilted the glass back. The bitterness was dulled by the rich, juicy taste of fruit nectar. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Oh shit,” Hem said.
She wiggled closer to him as he rubbed her arm in long delicious strokes. Her thoughts were beginning to get fuzzy. She wasn’t this forward, this obvious with men ever, but with Hem, it was so natural.
“Why don’t you slow down before you try the next one? Want to order some food?”
“What, isn’t this what you said you guys do? Isn’t this how the Punjabis drink?”
“Yeah, but it usually involves conversation, too. Not just who can down the most juice the fastest,” Hem said.
“I’m not really that hungry, so why don’t we talk? Do you speak Punjabi, too? Or do you only toast in the language?”
Hem pressed his lips to the shell of her ear and her eyes practically rolled back at the soft heat of his breath. “What do you think?” he said in her language.
She had to squeeze her thighs together and bit her lip to hold back the groan. His voice, plus their language, was pure sin.
She needed some distance. She still had to work with Hem, and as much as she loved every touch, every brush of his hand, and every word, she was getting too light-headed to make sound decisions. “Let’s have another.”
“Shit, man,” Zail said when Mina snatched the cherry-flavored whiskey out of his hand and tossed it back.
“Maujaa!” she shouted and slammed the glass down on the table. Her body felt like it was melting now. Mina shook her hair out of her face. The buzz felt wonderful. Hem’s close proximity to her felt wonderful, too.
“Let’s have another!” she said, and while Hem and Zail argued with her, she managed to get the waitress to replace her drinks.
