Chapter Seven Rajneet

AJAY SINGH:I’ll need financials, corporate docs, everything you got.

RAJ:Did yesterday’s wedding sell you? Are we making a deal?

AJAY SINGH:Not yet, Rajneet. But send docs to my counsel, cc me. I want to see what I’m working with and I’ll call you tomorrow.

RAJ:My Mondays are usually busy, but I’ll clear my calendar for you.

AJAY SINGH:Oh? Your evening, too?

RAJ:It depends on how interesting you’re willing to make the negotiations.

Raj sat behind her glass desk surrounded with paperwork. Her head of Legal, Harnette, occupied one of the off-white chairs across from her, while her assistant, Tracey, sat in the other. They’d been hovering over their tablets and laptops for the last hour and a half.

“I think that covers it for prepping Bharat,” Raj said to two of her oldest employees. “If Bharat needs anything else, then route the request to my cell phone. I’ll handle it personally. This is just talk. I don’t want to alarm anyone.”

She was met with nods.

“Do we have anything else?”

Her assistant nodded. “The animal shelter in Midtown. They called and wanted to ask if you could come down after the fifteenth. They said that you may be interested in seeing some of the animals that are coming in.”

Raj felt her heart jump and pressed a hand to her chest. She’d wanted one for so long, but with getting her business off the ground and with Robert’s allergies, it had never been possible. But now...

“Was it—” She cleared her throat. “Was it Jill who called?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

Jill managed the shelter. She also knew exactly what Raj wanted.

The news had her itching to call Jill for more information right that second. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded at Tracey. “Thank you for the message. Please add it to my calendar for the weekend following the fifteenth. Let Jill know that I’m seriously considering this time. Now that is taken care of, why don’t you two order lunch? On me. You deserve it.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Harnette said with a smile.

“Me, too,” Tracey added. “Want me to order something for you, too, boss?”

“Sure. Use my corporate card.”

Tracey gave a thumbs-up. Before she could stand, the cell phone she gripped in her other hand let out a shrill.

She tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder. “Raj Hothi’s office.”

Raj watched her assistant’s eyes go wide. She shot a look at Harnette, who had also remained seated.

“What is it?” Raj asked.

Tracey pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the mute button on the screen. “It’s security downstairs. They said they stopped a man from entering the building. He wants to see you. Claims he’s your brother. Do you even have a brother?”

Raj felt her stomach pitch and nausea roil in her gut. Her first instinct was to have security throw him out, but that would only delay the inevitable. Guru had endless patience. Even when they were kids, he’d been able to wait her out. She remembered that he’d hide in the poppy fields during Holi and then blast her with colored water from a squirt gun when she got tired of hiding.

She refused to hide in her own damn office now.

Raj tapped her red nails against her desk as she debated her options. If she tried to ignore him, he would just wait for her to leave work.

No, ignoring was a coward’s way. It was what her mother would do, and she was not her mother. She wasn’t going to just let someone walk into her life and make demands that she accepted without argument. No, this was her company, her territory.

“Boss, what do you want—”

“Ask for his name.” She knew what it would be, but it was important for Guru to realize that she wasn’t going to welcome him into her life.

Tracey unmuted the phone and spoke into the receiver. She paused as security responded to her question, and then said, “Guru Hothi.”

“Okay, tell security to send him up. Move my call with Kia at Gen One by ten minutes. Harnette, you can head out, too.”

“Raj, are you sure?” Harnette asked. “Tracey and I, or one of your other senior VPs can stay with you.”

“No, I’m fine. Guru is an old... acquaintance.”

They looked at each other, as if trying to determine whether or not to believe Raj’s brush-off, before they walked to the door.

“Let us know if you need us,” Tracey said.

“Thanks, Tracey.”

She watched them walk toward their desks through the glass wall of her office before she turned to her windows. Her view wasn’t as impressive as that of the Singh brothers, but she was still proud of it.

“Gudiya.”

The endearment was spoken in a rough, deep timbre. She turned slowly, and barely controlled her jaw from dropping.

The last time she’d seen her brother he was thirty and looked like a walking advertisement for how not to wear designer clothes. He was the son of a Punjabi mob boss with a gold spoon tucked between his teeth.

And now he looked like the mob boss himself.

Guru Hothi’s leather pants and jacket had been replaced with a fitted gray suit and a pagadi that matched the color of his subtle pinstripes. Gone were the ostentatious watch and layers of gold chains. Instead, his Rolex was a bit more tasteful, and his jewelry was limited to a kara on his wrist, two gold rings, and a diamond stud in one ear. He stroked a hand over a closely trimmed beard.

“I haven’t changed that much for you to keep staring at me like that,” he said in Punjabi.

“What are you doing here, Guru?”

“Trying to chase you down when I have better things to do back in India.” He strolled across her office and pulled out the chair Tracey had recently vacated. He dropped into it and crossed an ankle over his knee. “How have you been?”

Seeing him was like a kick in the teeth. He reminded her of everything she’d escaped and everything she missed. “I’m going to ask you one more time before I tell you to get out. What are you doing here, Guru?”

He looked up at her, straight in the eyes, and said coolly, “Mom is dying. She has six months, maybe less. She wants to see you before she’s gone.”

Raj stumbled to her chair and dropped into it like a stone. The stomach bile rose again, and this time she had to brace her hands on her knees and take a few easy breaths.

“Do you want some water? I can call one of your staff to bring you some.”

She looked up at her brother, who was eyeing her as if he was... concerned. Which couldn’t be the case, of course. No, he’d turned his back on her long ago.

Her mother, the one person Raj had hoped would still love her when she decided to forge an independent future for herself, had turned her back on Raj, too.

Raj could still remember hearing her mother’s voice on the phone that last time. The cold rejection had been sharper than a chef’s knife. Even though the wounds on her heart had been scabbed over for so long, they still throbbed at the memory.

“What—what happened?”

“Mom has a tumor,” Guru said softly. “In her spine, and now there are growths in her brain. She’s gone through surgeries and radiation treatment, but nothing is working.”

“Why does she want to see me?”

“Because you are her only daughter.”

The way he said it, the accusing tone in his voice, had her straightening. “I thought she only had a son. Isn’t that what you told me the last time you came to New York? Isn’t that what she told me the last time I called her? You got what you wanted. I’m no longer a part of the family. You can’t continue to change your mind, bhaiya.”

His expression hardened. Darkened until Raj’s spine straightened in an unconscious reaction. “You’ve been in the US for too long, Rajneet. The life you choose is only worthy if you honor the people who created it for you. You never honored your family.”

“And my family never honored me.”

Raj knew it was useless to try to argue with Guru about familial obligations, but she couldn’t stop herself from fighting back. He’d never know how hard it had been for her to tear her roots out as quickly and violently as a hundred-year-old tree toppling over in a storm. Her traditional upbringing, her legacy, was as rich and old as the soil in her family’s poppy fields.

And Raj’s brother didn’t have the same pressures that she’d had as a Punjabi woman. He’d been able to run wild growing up. No one expected him to account for his time, to be home at a certain hour, or to get a degree as a résumé builder for marriage.

No. She was not going to waste her breath fighting him on binary gender roles and cultural responsibilities that her family refused to let go.

“I’m sorry that Mumma is sick. I’m sorry she’s suffering and she’s dying. I... I’ve always missed her. But when I refused to use my company to help you grow the family’s drug trade, she cut me off just like you wanted her to.”

“This is her dying wish.”

“Her guilty conscience is not my responsibility.”

“Even Papa has come around and would like to hear from you,” Guru said. He leaned back again and steepled his fingers in front of him.

The news shocked her nearly as much as the news about her mother. “What are you talking about?”

“Papa misses you, as well. When he retired from the business, he got soft. And then Mumma got sick. The bottom line is that I run the family now. I make the decisions. If Mumma wants to see you, then I will do what I can to make it happen for her.”

“Are you going to try to drag me back to Punjab again?” Raj asked bitterly.

“No, but I am going to be staying in New York until you agree to go.”

Raj’s jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious! Who is going to oversee the... trade?”

He scoffed, and the hard lines in his face deepened. “The family business always made you uneasy. It’s opium, Raj. You can say it. And I have people who are overseeing things while I’m here. You have nothing to worry about when you come back.”

“Won’t people find out about your dirty little secrets if you’re not there to keep them all quiet?”

“What dirty secrets?” He spread his arms out as if looking for someone to challenge his statement. “You’ve been away for a long time, Raj, but I expected you to at least keep tabs on us. We’ve been outsourcing opium to pharmaceutical companies in Europe and the US. Nothing dirty about that, nah?”

“Wh-what?”

“There is more profit in pharma. We’re legal now. Mostly.” His grin was quick and reminded her of the boy that he used to be. “There are still a lot of people who want what we have. We play nice in the sandbox, but almost all of our money is clean. Now, as a peace offering, I can purchase your ticket, and you can be in and out of India in twenty-four hours. When would you like to leave?”

She was losing ground. She could feel it sliding out from under her. The freedom that she loved so much was disappearing like it used to when she was a child.

Except she wasn’t a child anymore. She wasn’t going to fall in line.

“Guru, I can’t just pick up and leave. I own a business. I’m in the middle of—”

“A divorce, I know.”

Her shoulders straightened at the disapproval in his voice. “I also own a company. And, like I said, my family’s guilty conscience is not my responsibility. I have a negotiation in progress, so if you’ll excuse me.”

His eyebrows formed a V, and his gaze narrowed. “With a South Asian tech company?”

“It’s time you leave, Guru!”

Even as she stood, horrified at the way she’d shouted, Guru sat smiling at her. “You never used to worry about yelling before. You were always screaming and yelling as you ran all over the farmhouse when you were a kid.”

“Those days are over now.”

He stood, straightened his tie and jacket. “I guess so. Our mother is on a timeline. I’ll give your assistant my phone number. Try not to block this one. And don’t take too long to decide. Even though I’m taking business meetings and working remotely, I need to get back to India. Commit.”

“I’m not committing to anything and your bullying me is not going to work.” She saw her assistant standing at her desk through the glass wall of her office and shook her head. Dammit, she was still yelling.

“You always were quick tempered,” Guru said with an amused smile. “The Punjabi princess that was the family phataka. A firecracker.” He buttoned his suit jacket and moved toward the door. “I can’t force you to come. Obviously. But we’ll be seeing a lot of each other until you decide to do the right thing. This is for Mumma, Rajneet. Business shouldn’t get in the way.”

With that parting message, he slipped out of her office, left a card on Tracey’s desk as he passed, and disappeared through the lobby double doors and out to the elevators.

When she was sure he was gone, Raj dropped heavily into her chair. Her heart was beating fast, and her skin felt clammy.

“Hey,” Tracey said from the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Okay. First, Ajay at Bharat called. He asked if you could call him back.”

“Fine.”

“And your next call is on the line. Kia from Gen One. Do you want me to hold her off?”

“No.” Raj brushed her hair back over her shoulders and straightened in her chair. “No, I’ll take the call. Just tell her that I need a minute.”

Tracey nodded. “Will do, boss.” She shut the door behind her.

Raj looked at the blinking light on her desk comm unit and closed her eyes. If Ajay was still on the line, then maybe, just maybe, she’d talk to him. They’d pick at each other and she’d feel better, because he’d give her exactly what she needed. They hadn’t known each other for long, but she was sure he’d know what to say. Punjabi families could understand family pressure like hers. Ajay would understand. But not Kia. Not anyone else.

“Pull yourself together, Rajneet,” she muttered, even as she felt the tears burn in the back of her throat. Memories of her mother flashed in her mind like a merry-go-round that she couldn’t stop. Her hand shook as she reached for her cell phone that sat in a cradle at the corner of her desk and opened her photos. Her fingers hovered over the albums link for a second before she clicked on it and scrolled until she reached the last few pictures she’d taken in Punjab.

Her mother’s face stared back at her in one of her favorite images. Their cheeks were pressed together, and their smiles were almost mirror images of each other.

God, she looked so young, so hopeful.

And her mother. After spending years staring at that picture, Raj was sure that there was trepidation in those eyes.

Raj sniffed and brushed away the lone tear that escaped. She looked down at her wet fingertip, and it snapped her out of her fog-brained thoughts. What was she doing? She had work. She immediately closed her photo app, tossed her cell phone aside and dabbed at her eyes.

Pushing all thoughts about her brother, her mother, and old memories aside, she reached out with a steady hand and answered Kia’s call on her comm unit.

“Hello, Kia. How are you, darling?”