“He always asks about you.”
“He calls me to check in on you as well,” Ajoba said. “He says he doesn’t want to bother you by harassing you over the phone.”
“But you can call him. He really wants you to call him.” Shweta looked down. “It would break your father’s heart to know his sons haven’t spoken in two years.”
Ouch. Low blow, because he knew she was right.
He’d thought about calling Kiran over the years, but something always stopped him. He simply could not imagine what the conversation would sound like, or what they would say.
And then, there was the anger. The terrible anger that made him feel wild and out of control.
He didn’t like to feel those deep wells of emotions. They could lead down dark, dangerous paths, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was fall off the wagon he’d painstakingly climbed atop. “I can’t believe either of you. Aren’t you two on my side?”
“Of course, my boy,” his grandfather said. “I am always on your side. But he is my grandson, too, and he hates how he hurt you.”
Naveen rubbed the side of his nose. “He should have thought about that before he did what he did.”
A curly-headed woman popped into the room, gamine face curious. “Before who did what?”
“Nothing,” Naveen said, grateful for the interruption. He deliberately lightened his tone. Keep it light, keep it happy. “Are you here to join this family meeting to harangue me into getting married too, Aparna?”
“Hello, Aparna,” his mother said over the phone. He hated how subdued she sounded, but he was too wound up to comfort her right now.
“Hello, Auntie,” his cousin said cheerfully. “Nope, not a harangue in sight. I wanted to tell you Ms. Chaudhary is here, and I’ve put her in the conference room.”
Naveen glanced at his watch. “She’s early.” And he hadn’t had a chance to fully look over her file.
“Who is here to see you?” Ajoba demanded.
“The heir to Rhea Chaudhary’s estate. Took me a while to track her down. She changed her name, it seems,” Aparna filled in. She was his mom’s cousin’s kid, but he called her cousin as well. She was a few years older than Naveen and also lived next door to their grandfather, though in her own house. She had boy-mom energy, and was, indeed, a single mom to a sweet five-year-old. She was also their resident private investigator, notary, and entire administrative staff.
“Oh.” Ajoba narrowed his eyes, and Naveen could tell he was searching the files in his brain and coming up empty. “I . . . I don’t recall.”
His grandfather hated not remembering anything, and it happened more often now. “It’s a small case. You took Rhea on a year or so ago. Looks like you never even met her face-to-face.” Naveen had already come on board by then, but his grandfather had still been in the office. It was only when Ravi had started to forget important details that he’d taken a giant step back. His grandpa was proud, but he was also self-aware and didn’t want to mess with malpractice. “Anyway, the niece was in the area. She preferred coming in. It’ll make things easier.”
Shweta shifted. “Very well. I have to get to a meeting. You’ll call me tonight to tell me how this date went?”
“If it’s not too late.”
“Goodbye, Naveen, Aparna.” His mom paused. “Baba.”
Ajoba inclined his head. “Shweta.”
Aparna leaned over the back of his wheelchair. “Would you like me to take you home, Ajoba?”
“I should meet this client. My name’s on the door, still.” His hand shook when he raised the bottle to his lips to drain it.
He could see the obvious fatigue in his grandpa’s eyes. Getting dressed and coming into the office, with his nurse’s assistance or not, was becoming more and more arduous for the man. “No, go on home.” Naveen slapped the file shut. “This is an easy one, and I’d like some time to get ready for my date after.” Luckily, he had plans tomorrow—yes, another escape room with Alan and some new guys—so he’d already intended to stay late at the office today to catch up on work.
Grabbing some dinner at one of the many restaurants down the street and eating his naan and chicken tikka at his desk while he drafted prenups might not be the date his family thought he was out on, but at least it was a peaceful one.
“Fine,” Ajoba grumbled. “Stay out late tonight. I remember the first time I met your grandmother, we were up until three A.M., though we had school the next day.”
Naveen swallowed, tasting his lie more now. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“You’re a good boy, Naveen. I want everything for you.” His grandfather opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something else, but then gestured to Aparna to take him home.
Naveen looked down to hide his mixed emotions as his cousin and grandfather left. He had only experienced that sort of helpless fascination with a woman once or twice in his life. Part of him, a big part of him, longed for it now. Another part of him, the part that was clearly winning out, would rather get takeout and draft a prenup.
Don’t think about that or your brother. You still have work to do.
He took a minute to finger comb his hair in the mirror on the wall, then walked quickly to their small conference room, trying to speed-read the Chaudhary client’s file. Died out of the country; one heir, a niece; only a small envelope of assets to pass on. He fixed an appropriately somber expression on his face, then entered the room. “Ms. Chaudhary, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, and for your loss—”
He broke off when the woman standing in front of the window turned to face him. She was beautiful, with big dark eyes and a couple of escaped curls that surrounded her sweet round face. Her body was curves on curves, packaged tidily away. She wore a knee-length black skirt that hugged her hips and a pink silk shirt with a frivolous pussy bow tied at the throat. Delicate pearl buttons ran all the way down the front.
Naveen had undone those buttons once, one pearl at a time.
He’d traced her honey-brown skin with his hands, his lips, his tongue. He’d stroked her until she writhed with need under him, her body soft and supple under his. He’d kissed tears of passion away from her cheeks, and nibbled her earlobe to make her smile. It might have been three years ago, and she might have changed, physically—she was curvier, her cheeks rounder, her makeup more discreet, her hair pulled back into a knot instead of ruthlessly straightened and short—but there were some people you didn’t forget.
Especially when they made you believe in a happy ending, then shut it down in a single instant.
Her throat worked, her gaze caught on his. “You?” she breathed.
He snapped his file closed. “Amira. Long time no talk.” He paused. “Or should I say, text.”
Chapter Three
What. The fuck. Was happening.
Was this karma? Or a drawn-out cosmic joke? Had someone in the universe decided today was Mess With Mira Day?
There was no other explanation for why she was coming face-to-face with the very first Hema Auntie–approved match she’d rejected, right on the heels of Hema Auntie’s last match rejecting her.