Chapter 2 Deepak

Chapter 2 Deepak

BUNTY: Yo... you okay? Do you need a hug or something?

PREM: For fucks sake, Bunty. Are you seriously opening with that?

PREM: Deepak, let us know if you want us to swing by today. We know how important this deal is for you to secure your CEO nomination.

BUNTY: Food always makes me feel better. Do you want sheet pan nachos? I'll make you nachos.

Deepak Datta woke at precisely five a.m. every day. He took his vitamin, drank the water he'd left on his bedside table the night before, and dressed for a workout in his home gym. He'd sometimes jog, but jogging in his Brooklyn neighborhood was less like exercise and more like dodging people and cars.

After his workout, he showered, checked the news while eating one of three breakfasts he'd have on rotation, and then he left

for Midtown. He usually walked through the double doors of his office building at 7:25 a.m. on the dot.

But today was different. Today felt off the minute his phone buzzed at 3:55 a.m. He rubbed the grit out of his eyes in the

darkness of his bedroom and reached for his cell.

Through blurry vision, he checked the screen and bolted into an upright position.

Ninety-seven unread messages. Fourteen missed calls.

The last one had been from his father, which was one of the five numbers that could still reach him even when he'd set his

device to do not disturb.

Deepak switched on the light and after scanning the list of names, he decided to open his assistant's message first.

KIM ISHIYAMA: Boss, this is bad.

KIM ISHIYAMA: Have you seen this?

KIM ISHIYAMA: Boss, wake up! I tried calling but it went straight to VM. You have to get in front of this now.

KIM ISHIYAMA: I'm tagging publicity and communications in an email so they can help with a press release.

KIM ISHIYAMA: Boss, now is not the time for you to prioritize self-care.

Deepak clicked on the link Kim had sent over, and his fiancée's face filled the screen. Olivia Gupta had smooth, bare skin,

and bright eyes with a soft sheen of tears that he knew she was able to produce on command. Her perfect, angular face was

practically poreless, and her husky voice disrupted the quiet of his bedroom.

"Get ready with me to break up with my fiancé, Deepak Datta."

Son of a bitch.

His stomach twisted in knots as Olivia began rubbing a clear gel into her cheeks.

"As some of you know, my mother set me up with Deepak almost a year ago, because she is friends with his parents. When Deepak

and I first met, we hit it off. We had some good chemistry, and I knew that he would be the right match for me to help me

push my business to the next level."

She switched to dabbing her dark spots with a concealer wand. "He has always been charming and sweet, and just an overall,

wonderfully kind person to me, but what I've realized is that he is already married."

"What the hell?" Deepak said.

As if answering his question, Olivia continued. "He's married to his business, and I would never come first in his life."

She then held up a glass bottle with her name printed in swirling black letters. "This foundation is magic. My makeup line

drops in a few weeks, and I can't wait to share it with all of you! Sign up for my newsletter so you don't miss any of the

details. Link is in the bio."

Then, as if she weren't completely ruining his life, she dabbed the thick liquid on her cheeks, chin, nose, and forehead.

"Anyway, Deepak is the kind of man who will never put a woman first. Not me, not anyone. I always thought that our business

agreement would turn into something more the longer we were engaged but he has barely even kissed me. We definitely haven't slept together. And do you know how insecure that makes me? To have every advance coolly rejected

for almost a year?"

Deepak rolled his eyes. Their schedules barely aligned, and when they were together, they only talked about business. Unless

he had completely misread every conversation, Olivia had never made an advance.

She expertly added mascara, eyeliner, and lashes. "Anyway, by the time you see this, I'll be a free woman. I'm so sorry you'll miss out on all the incredible wedding content I had planned for you, but don't worry. It'll happen. But with the right person. Just not Deepak Datta. That man has all the red flags. He's unavailable, inattentive, and emotionally constipated." Her voice hitched in the exact right moment for optimal impact.

She smoothed on lipstick then smacked her lips. "I'm packing a bag and heading to Europe to see some friends for a month or

two," she said. "I won't be posting for a bit, because I just need to take some time for myself."

Her voice dropped in pitch, holding the briefest tremble. "I'm just asking you all to please respect my privacy. Oh, and respect

Deepak's, too. Sometimes a man can't help it if he's emotionally unavailable."

The video ended and looped to the beginning. Deepak closed the window, so he didn't have to watch it again.

Kim was right. This was bad. This was very bad. Because what most of Olivia's four million followers didn't know was that she was also a member of the Illyria Media

Group board. She'd inherited an Illyria board seat from her father after his death and it had transitioned during the merger.

Marrying Olivia was supposed to secure his role as CEO at the year-end November board meeting. She was the swing vote.

Now there was a chance that he'd lose his legacy all because of her video.

He propped his elbows on his knees. His chest tightened with anger over the fact that Olivia resorted to her social media platform to put him on blast, but Deepak would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt a wave of relief, too. He'd only said yes to the engagement because he knew that he had to make a personal sacrifice and marry the best match for the company. If he'd chosen a woman for himself alone . . . well, he was picturing an entirely different person.

But love had no place in his reality. He just thought that Olivia understood his position and wanted the same thing he did.

Deepak didn't bother reading the other messages before he called his now ex-fiancée.

Her face filled his screen once more, but this time, she was in full-glam, sitting in what looked like an airport lounge.

The buttery brown leather of the headrest behind her contrasted with her dark curls.

"Hi, Deepak," she said with a sigh. Her brilliant, deep brown eyes looked wary.

"Olivia, what's going on?" he replied softly.

She had the decency to look guilty. "My social media consultant wasn't supposed to post the video until after you and I had

a chance to talk, but she made a mistake, and I'm so sorry that you had to find out this way."

Deepak slipped out of bed and began pacing his room from entryway to balcony doors. "I thought we were on the same page. I

didn't realize you were so unhappy..."

She chuckled, and the sound was humorless. "Are you being serious right now?"

His pacing faltered. "Why would I joke about this?"

"Deepak, after eight months, I don't know if you even like me as a person."

"Ah, excuse me?"

"Do you even like me?" She lifted a champagne flute to her lips and sipped. The tasteful engagement ring that he had purchased for her was no longer on her finger. "I know that you want to marry me because I'm on the board. Because our fathers were friends before Daddy died, and we come from similar backgrounds. I want to marry you because you can fund my businesses. But there has to be more than that between us."

"Olivia, of course I like you," he said, evading her comment about wanting something more from their relationship. "I wouldn't

have said yes to our engagement otherwise."

Olivia held up her fingers in front of her phone camera and began to tick them off one at a time as she listed his transgressions.

"You never show me any affection or appreciation unless it's for the cameras. You don't ask me about my job, or the things

I like to do. You don't text me just to check in unless you're confirming plans. You never share anything about yourself.

I haven't even met your friends yet, and we've been together for almost a year."

"I thought you wanted to take things slow," he said.

"There's slow and there's molasses slow." She shifted in her seat and the leather creaked. The sound echoed through the phone.

"I sent you wedding venues over a month ago, and you refused to get involved at all. On Monday, you were supposed to pay the

wedding planner's deposit. When you forgot, that was the last straw for me."

Deepak pinched the bridge of his nose before he remembered that was something his father was fond of doing. He dropped his

hand to his side.

He wished Veera was here. She always knew exactly what to say to help him with moments like this in his life. She'd cock her

head and lean in to listen to what he'd have to say. Her eyes would darken, and she'd have a look of intense concentration

on her face as if he were the only person who mattered. Then she'd pat him on his arm, and her sunny smile would ease the

tension around his heart.

Their friendship was short, but it was the most meaningful one he'd had other than his longtime brotherhood with Prem and Benjamin.

"Deepak, are you even listening to me?"

He blinked and refocused on Olivia's irritated expression. "Olivia, as a friend—"

"I'm not your friend, Deepak," she snapped, her voice hardening. Then she looked around, as if making sure no one could hear

their conversation. Her glossy, plump lips set in a thin line before she spoke in a soft, even tone. "I'm supposed to be more

than that. Look, aren't you tired of the once-a-week dinners, too? Of the kisses on the cheek, and the polite goodbyes? Are

we going to live the rest of our lives like we're our great-grandparents who just stay together because it's what's expected

of us? I refuse to be a fucking cliché when I've spent my career fighting against clichés."

The word cliché flashed in Deepak's head like a Vegas marquee.

Cliché.

Cliché.

Cliché.

How had they gotten eight months into an engagement without acknowledging how fundamentally different they were from each

other? He'd sacrificed everything for his family's company. And if that meant making a marriage work with someone he didn't

love, with someone who didn't love him in return, he'd do what he had to. But it looked like Olivia always expected hearts

and roses from him.

She was right. This wasn't working at all.

And now, as he clenched his phone in front of him, watching the dispassionate, almost irritated look on Olivia's face, he knew there was no chance in going back. Her video made him seem like a callous, unloving asshole, because that's exactly what he was. He sat on the edge of his mattress, feeling the knots tighten in his shoulders.

"Olivia, I'm so sorry. But I wish we had this conversation before you blasted it everywhere."

"Deepak, I asked you to choose our future, the one that our parents wanted us to have, that we're supposed to have, dozens of times before." She tilted her head, as if listening to an announcement before she drained her champagne

flute and stood. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. That's my flight. I've already sent the ring to your assistant. You should

get it along with a few other gifts you've bought me."

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, feeling the desperation crawling up his neck. "We started this together because of the board.

I hired you for the newspaper, and we supported each other for years. We always had the company in mind from the beginning.

I hate to ask this, but will you be back in November?"

Her expression fell. "After watching my video and hearing me rant just now, that's really what you're asking me? If I'll make

it back to New York to vote you in as CEO?"

"I've never lied to you," he said. "I've always said that the board vote is my priority."

"No. No, you haven't lied about that," she said quietly. "Maybe I was in the wrong for failing to listen to what you were

telling me."

Her solemn expression was an indication that he'd screwed up again. He turned to face his bed and really wished he could lie

back down and pretend this nightmare was over.

"Have a safe flight, Olivia," he finally said. "I'm sorry that this didn't work out."

She rolled her eyes, then hung up on him.

" Fuck ," he groaned. He needed coffee if he was going to try to diffuse this situation.

In the dark shadows of the early morning, he crossed his bedroom then passed the sitting area and out into the hall. His town house was five floors, but he rarely went anywhere beyond the first two levels. He walked down his stacked stairs, passed his empty and meticulously designed living room and dining room, then entered his kitchen. He turned his lights on low and made his way over to the open shelving where his interior designer had arranged his mugs on tiny brass hooks over his built-in coffee station.

His phone buzzed just as he put a mug under the dispenser spout of his built-in single-serving grind-and-pour-over coffee

machine.

Without looking at the screen, he pressed it to his ear and answered.

"Yes?"

"Beta, you've shit your pants, haven't you?"

His father's gruff Punjabi was as callous as it had always been when he was in a foul mood. And when his father was in a foul

mood, it usually meant that Deepak was on the receiving end of some of the strangest profanities.

"Papa, in my defense I didn't even know Olivia was feeling this way until I watched the video."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Mine," he said, as the machine groaned and sputtered. The smell of rich, ethically sourced organic coffee trickled into his

mug. "To be fair, we had a business arrangement more than a relationship from the start."

Deepak heard a loud creak, and he knew his father was leaning back in his ancient desk chair in the home office close to the kitchen. His shocking white hair was most likely sticking up in odd angles and a steaming cup of chai was sitting at his elbow. His mother was most definitely still asleep, but in a couple hours, his father would make a second pot of chai and take it up to bed to her like he'd done for over thirty years.

"Olivia's vote is important," Deepak's father said, interrupting his thoughts. "Half of the new Illyria board think you don't

deserve the position because of nepotism. The other half are only willing to support you because of me. Your marriage was

supposed to establish you as a stable, reliable bet."

Deepak stood again and began to pace.

Assess, address, reevaluate.

As the COO, he'd succeeded by mobilizing those three simple words, no matter how large or small the project. That's what he

had to do here, too.

"My successes speak for themselves," he said.

"Oye dafa ho ja, you and your success. Nothing is ever fair in business. And now Olivia's video will appear on all the mainstream

news channels. What are you going to do?"

Deepak tried to think of a response.

Assess, address, reevaluate. Assess, address, reevaluate.

"Papa, is the board going to be angry about my bad press, or the fact that their best option for CEO is a single thirty-five-year-old?"

There was that long, heartfelt sigh again. The same one that he'd inherited. "Beta, maybe you should listen to your heart,

to your instincts on this one, na?"

Deepak bit back another curse. How could his father even suggest that he be emotional about something so critical to the media

conglomerate that he started? This was not the man he grew up with. This was not the fearless leader who taught him how every

relationship can shape the way he conducted his business.

His phone pinged with another incoming call, and he squinted at the screen. When he saw Veera's name, he froze.

What the hell?

It had been months since the last time he'd talked to Veera on the phone. Their relationship had diminished to a weekly text

or gif. She'd send him the random picture of scenery, and he'd text her pictures of bagels. They used to communicate at least

twice a day. The thought of hearing her voice pulled at him until he knew he didn't want anything else in that moment.

"Dad? I got to go."

"I expect you to have a solution to this before the workday begins," his father said. "I'm still responsible for the company,

and this doesn't just affect you."

Deepak didn't bother answering before he connected to Veera's call. With his mug in hand, he crossed to the kitchen island.

"Vee? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Her voice was like icy cool rainwater in a desert heat. The tension in his shoulders melted at the warm familiarity.

"Hey, Deeps. How's it going?"

"Did you see the video?" he asked, as he pulled out a stool.

There was a long pause. "Video?" Veera asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Olivia's video."

"Your fiancée? No, why, what happened? Oh my god, is she pregnant?"

There was a thin threadiness in Veera's voice that sounded almost like panic.

"No, quite the opposite actually," Deepak said, chuckling. He didn't know that he could laugh at this moment of crisis. "I

wonder if I should be offended at how panicked you sound at the thought of me having a baby. I'd be a great dad, thank you

very much."

"Of course you would," she said, and her agreement was so immediate, her faith in him unwavering despite the time and distance between them. He looked down at the swirling black liquid in his mug and cleared his throat.

"If that's not why you're calling, what's up?"

Great. He sounded like he had all the damn time in the world instead of a massive PR crisis on his hands. Olivia was flying

out, his father was asking for a solution, and the board was definitely going to be pissed.

Veera was on the line.

"So, I'm in Goa with my sister," she said slowly. "And there was a bit of a boating mishap..."

"Mishap?" He had just picked up his coffee, and the hot liquid sloshed over the rim as he placed it back on the counter. "Are

you okay?"

"Yeah, we're totally fine," she said. "And I normally wouldn't ask this of you because I know how busy you are, but both Sana

and I lost our wallets in this... mishap. We'll have to get our cards replaced but we don't know how long that's going

to take. We don't want our parents to know because, well, for obvious reasons."

If his relationship with his company, with his father, was complicated, then Veera's was downright hostile. "How much do you

need?" he asked.

"We don't exactly know?" she said. "We're supposed to check out of our rooms on Sunday. Look, I'm sorry for asking, and I

have no idea how you'd even wire it to us at this point."

Something about the way she spoke had the gears in Deepak's brain clicking into place. He stood and crossed to the windows that overlooked the deserted street below. The soft light from the streetlamps cast a golden glow on the worn sidewalks. In less than two hours, there would be a steady flow of pedestrians.

"Where are you staying?" he asked.

Veera named one of the top resorts in Goa. He'd always wanted to visit but never had the time.

How long had it been since he was in India? As ironic as it sounded, India was the perfect place to hide from the press for

a few days. His assistant could reschedule some meetings for him, and he'd handle whatever he could remotely.

And this way, he could spend time with the one person who always knew exactly what to say when he felt lost. He'd comp her

entire damn hotel bill for saving him from his current nightmare in return.

Veera rambled on for another few minutes before Deepak cut her off.

"I should be able to catch the next flight out."

There was a long pause, before Veera spoke again. "Excuse me?"

"I'm coming to Goa," he said, as he left his mug and spilled coffee on the counter and retraced his steps back to his room.

"Do I need bug spray?"

"Do you need... okay, is this your attempt at making a Bunty-like joke? Because he does it better than you."

Deepak grinned as he stepped into his walk-in closet and pulled his carry-on out of the base compartment of the wall unit

before he answered. "It's been too long, Vee. I'll be there soon."

Then he hung up and called his assistant to help secure a ticket while he began to fill packing cubes with focused determination.

Yes, he thought. Seeing one of his best friends was exactly what he needed before he figured out the rest of his life.