Chapter Eleven Ajay

It had cost Ajay to be a gentleman, but he took Raj home, kissed her until his head spun, and returned to his penthouse alone. He hadn’t known Raj that long, but he could already tell that she was a cautious woman who would appreciate some time to process what’d happened between them. If he’d spent the night, there was a very good chance that she’d push him away again.

Fortunately, it was less than twenty-four hours before he headed toward her brownstone again. He cruised uptown in his Bugatti with the early-fall breeze filtering through his window and twilight sparkling over the city. He rarely drove, since he preferred working during his commute, but he hoped Raj would enjoy the privacy.

He turned up the house music on his radio as he reminisced on the way Raj had looked when he saw her at the Ice Palace. She was magnificent. From the moment he walked into the Fire Lounge, he’d known that any doubt in his mind about her didn’t stand a chance against how much he wanted her. She’d taken his breath away as she sat framed in the lights pulsing through the window, with her bare legs crossed, her arms spread out on the back of the sofa. He was infuriated by the thought of someone else touching her, but his only option was to make his case and convince her that he was the only man for her.

For now, anyway.

Ajay was lucky that there was a hydrant right in front of her brownstone entrance. After pulling into the small opening, he rounded the car just as she exited her building.

He’d imagined she’d wear something elegant and chic like her office attire, but what emerged was something so much better.

Her feet were covered in open-toed ankle boots, and her legs were encased in slim-fit jeans. Her gorgeous head of thick hair was tied up in a messy topknot, which went with the strappy floral blouse and the tiny black rectangular purse that hung low on her hip. She stood at the top of her stairs, smiling down at him. The smooth, sultry expression had his pulse jumping.

“Do I pass muster for first-date attire?”

“Come down here and ask me,” he said.

She took her time, leisurely descending her short staircase. Her feet grazed the sidewalk before he swooped her up in a kiss.

There she is, he thought as he sank into the feel of her. When her hands slid over his shoulders and into his hair, he knew that if he didn’t stop now, they’d end up in her house for the rest of the night.

Ajay leaned back and wiped a thumb over his bottom lip. “I look forward to more of that later.”

“Maybe I do, too,” she said smoothly, but he could tell by the rise and fall of her chest that she’d been as affected as he had. Good.

“Come on. We’re going to get stuck in traffic as it is, and we don’t want to miss some truly excellent chole.”

“Is that the type of Indian food we’re eating? Punjabi food?” she asked as she slipped into the passenger seat of his low-slung car. She ran a hand over the plush interior. “This is a damn nice vehicle for a casual date where we’re both going to eat with our hands.”

Ajay looked down at his clothes and grinned. “I would’ve swept you away to the Hamptons in this thing if I could. The weather is always gorgeous this time of year. But we’d have to clear our schedules and our EAs would probably have killed us.”

She was still laughing as he pulled away from the curb and drove toward RFK Bridge. “They’d make it happen, but then do something truly heinous to get back at us later, like reschedule all our canceled calls for six in the morning.”

“Rafael has definitely done that to me before,” Ajay said. “He hates when I cancel.”

They talked about business for a few minutes as Ajay maneuvered through Saturday-evening traffic. He reached out and took her hand once he made it to FDR Drive.

She jolted as if he’d electrocuted her.

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I think you should probably tell me your terms,” she said, glancing down at their joined hands.

“I’m not following.”

“Ajay, although I’ve been married, any intimate relationship I’ve had with a man has been physical and discreet.”

“Discrete? Is that what you want from me, too?”

She let out a breath. “I... I don’t know. I’m still not divorced, and I’m looking to start a position with Gen One. Maybe. While you’re at the verge of taking over as CEO.”

“And it gets complicated. Okay, I understand what you’re saying. We can remain discrete for as long as our current circumstances exist. As for us, I expect you to come to me for whatever you need.”

“Whatever?” she said with amusement in her voice.

“Yes. And for as long as we’re doing this, I expect your honesty. I’ll give you the same.”

She let out a deep breath. “You need to qualify.”

“I need to qualify honesty?”

Raj nodded. “To be frank, I can be honest with what I tell you, but that doesn’t mean I share all my secrets.”

“I want your secrets,” he said. He wanted everything. He’d spent half the night and most of his Saturday thinking about what drew him to her. Her confidence, her intelligence, the chemistry were all a given. But maybe her complexity was part of it, too. Ajay knew that he was quickly becoming addicted to uncovering her pockets of sweetness.

“That may be a deal breaker,” she replied.

“I’m willing to compromise,” he said, squeezing her hand. “No lying by omission. Just admit whether or not you’re ready to share information and we’ll review on a case-by-case basis.”

“Deal,” she said. “Monogamous?”

“Without question.”

“Sleeping arrangements?” she continued. “I work late or work from home, and since our last security breach—”

Ajay snorted.

“I can’t get a lot done if you’re present.”

“That’s fair,” Ajay said. A knot in his chest tightened. He wanted to deny her this one thing because it meant that she didn’t trust him, but he didn’t blame her. Her husband and friend, someone she’d known for years, had taken advantage of her. It would take time before she could see that he wasn’t like Robert. Ajay shot her an easy grin. “Sometimes I’m in New Jersey, so my schedule is also a bit rigid. Tonight?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Kaka, my housekeeper, comes back from India early in the morning. I want to be there to welcome him home.”

Kaka. Her family. He had to admire her loyalty to the people she prioritized in her life. Hopefully he’d be added to that list.

They shifted gears to talk about work, their shared charity passions, and Raj’s interest in Gen One. They were neck deep in market discussions by the time Ajay pulled into a small private parking lot in Astoria. He slipped the lot owner a hundred-dollar bill, then linked his fingers with Raj’s as they strolled toward the restaurant.

“You know, Hem took Mina to a place down here for their first date.”

Raj hummed. “Mina told me. Dosa Hut. But you said we’re eating chole, not dosas.”

“I did. Do you like chole?”

“Yes, but I have a Punjabi housekeeper who makes the best. This is going to have to be pretty spectacular.”

He slowed in front of a small shop with counter service. “This will not disappoint. I came out to Queens almost every weekend when I was in college just to eat with my friends.”

They wove through tables packed with patrons until they reached the counter that had one old register, packets of supari—a mix of fennel seeds and sugar crystals—and a large tip jar.

“We’ll take two orders of bature chole, Uncle,” Ajay said in Punjabi. He squeezed Raj’s hand. “Do you want a lassi or cha?”

“Garam cha.”

After paying, they took their order number in the form of a plastic card and sat near the front window against the wall. Ajay stretched his long legs out so that his knees bracketed hers before he leaned across the table.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“This place smells like my mom’s kitchen—” Her face went blank and Ajay could see her putting her mask back on. Raj’s smooth, flawless composure reflected back at him. “We should be making use of the time. What do you want to know about RKH?”

“Don’t do that, Rajneet.”

“Don’t do what, darling?”

Ajay leaned back and watched her for a moment. She looked so much younger like this. Her lips were bare, and she was lacking the exquisite jewelry that usually winked at her earlobes and from her neck. He wanted more, though. More vulnerability, more honesty, and more of the real Raj. “My family’s company is personal. It was built by people with passion.” He switched to Punjabi. “Your polish is sexy, but I need to see beneath the veneer. I want your passion.”

The struggle was visible on her face. She didn’t want to show herself, but she was a smart woman. She could read him, his resolve, and knew this was important.

“My mother...” she continued slowly “...used to make the best bature chole ever. It was the one thing that the staff wasn’t allowed to help her with. She’d create this yeasted dough that would puff up into a dome, and then pinch off perfectly sized pieces, roll them out flat, and then drop them into this sizzling oil. The minute I heard that sound, it didn’t matter where I was in the farmhouse, I’d come running.”

Farmhouse, Ajay thought. Farmhouses in Punjab were often palatial. It made sense that her family, with its drug trafficking roots and poppy fields, had a lot of money.

He remembered what he’d asked Sri to do the previous night. If he was going to get into a relationship with this woman, he needed to trust her. It might be in his best interests to pull the project from Sri for now. He’d have to remember to take care of that when he got home.

“You miss your mom’s cooking,” he said.

“I do. Mom’s chole were made from a generations-old recipe,” she continued. “To make the chickpeas, she’d be cooking them for two days. Washing, rinsing, draining, and then stewing them in her special sauce. To this day, I don’t know what masalas she used. Not that it would do me much good. Who knows if she still cooks, with her health...”

Ajay squeezed her hand. “Whether she cooks or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you still didn’t get the skill from her, right?”

Her lips twitched. “I guess so.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do all the cooking. Except chole. Maybe we’ll leave that to true experts. Honestly, this place might not make chole as memorable as your mother’s, but I bet they’re pretty close.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She’d crossed her arms and leaned on the table. A wistful expression, one of memories reflected in her eyes.

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“Twelve years last month. I came here when I was eighteen.”

Ajay slid his hand across the scarred vinyl-top table, palm up. She looked down at it and then back up at his face, amused. Once her fingers were locked in his hold, he asked the question that had been plaguing him since the gala.

“Did you ever have feelings for Robert?”

She shook her head. “We had a mutually beneficial arrangement. I hated being a cliché, a stereotype of an Indian woman who married for a green card. But I had my reasons, and I was going to make it with or without Robert. He just ensured that my family wouldn’t interfere.”

“I’m not one to judge,” Ajay said. “People think that getting a green card is as easy as getting a driver’s license. So many of our international employees who transfer end up having to wait fifteen years or more for their green cards.”

“It doesn’t stop people from making crass assumptions,” Raj said. “That’s why Robert and I decided to live together, to pretend we were happily married, while remaining discreet about the nature of our relationship.”

“Any rumors now that you’re getting divorced?”

“I’ve heard a few. Most are off base, and the rest are harmless. As long as they don’t affect my reputation and my company, I couldn’t care less about rumors.”

Two cups of steaming chai were placed in front of them. Ajay watched the unfiltered delight brighten Raj’s expression before she bracketed her hands around the mug. She leaned down to smell it, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. The joy on her face made his heart clench.

“Tell me about RKH. When and how did you come up with the idea?”

Raj shrugged one delicate shoulder. “A mix of listening to my father complain about security breaches and a class project in my senior year. After I married Robert, his grandmother, the only woman who liked me, became a mentor. She worked for decades in the Douglass family company, and she helped me with contacts, connections, and developing a little bit of polish that I needed, before she passed away a few years ago.”

“Why do you think you got along so well?”

Raj shrugged. “She was an immigrant, too. Granted, Greece isn’t exactly the same as India, but similar enough that we both enjoyed each other’s company at all mandatory family get-togethers. She was always laughing and had a horde of pets. She is the reason I started working with the shelters in Manhattan. When she died, most of her money went to those shelters, and her last remaining pet, a sweet old hound, was taken in by one of her nephews.”

“But you wanted her hound?”

“Of course,” she said, a wistful expression on her face. “But Robert has an allergy. Thankfully, that’s no longer a barrier.”

Before he could second-guess himself, he gripped both cups and slid them to the side.

“What are you—”

He stood, scraping his chair back with a loud, defining screech, leaned over the table, and pressed his mouth against hers. He could feel her surprise and her shock, and used her lowered guard ruthlessly to his advantage by slipping his tongue between her parted lips.

She tasted like sin and redemption, both twining through his body, tightening in his gut, and fogging his brain. He took the kiss deeper, pulling a small sound of pleasure from her throat.

Her hands came up and her fingers stroked his cheeks through his beard. He felt her respond now, her lips softening, sipping from his mouth as if she was also hooked on the same drug he’d discovered in her. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and he groaned in pleasure.

Raj was a treasure, and he’d barely opened the box to discover all of her. Even as his fingers dove into her tidy hair, urging her mouth closer, the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through his lust-fogged brain.

He slowly pulled back, registering the confusion in Raj’s eyes, before he sat in his chair and turned to the older Punjabi uncle. The uncle looked more irritated at them than embarrassed as he held a tray overflowing with food in his hands, tapping one foot impatiently.

“Sorry,” Ajay said, as if he was being scolded like a child.

Smooth, Singh. Your conditioning to apologize is surely going to win over the lady now.

Raj’s mask was fully in place as she adjusted her hair in that calm, classy way that she had, and looked anywhere but at Ajay and the man who placed their food in front of them.

“So,” Ajay said when they were alone again. “That’s becoming a habit that I’m enjoying. I hope you don’t mind.”

Raj adjusted her puffed bature in front of her and leaned down to smell the dark brown chole topped with shredded ginger and parsley.

“You’re a brave soul if you want to kiss me again after this much onion and garlic, Singh.”

The corner of her perfect mouth curved, and he couldn’t help but smile in response. “You’re worth the sacrifice.”