Page 3 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Grant, I have a fantastic candidate for your friend’s startup,” I said when he answered. “Ask him to call me.”

“And hello to you too, Mir,” he dissed.

“Are you in town, or still globetrotting across the world?”

“I’m back from my Asia trip, but I’ll be in Europe next week.”

I smiled. “What are you acquiring this time?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” he said, and it wasn’t a joke. Grant was an oil dynasty heir. “Everything is set for you at the lake house,” he added.

“Thanks. I’ll need to use your bedroom. Anything I need to be wary of?”

“Nah, it’s quite tame now. I haven’t used it in months.” Grant was also a rebel who used his wealth and behavior to piss off his parents. “Do you need any help there? I can send my people up.”

“No, we’ll be alright. Call me when you’re back,” I said. “Don’t forget about my startup candidate. She won’t be on the market for too long.”

“Will do. Talk later.”

My phone dinged with a text, and I checked the flight details. Tara had forgotten to text me Sona’s number, but it didn’t matter. I knew how to find her.

SONA

Had I remembered to fix the typo before uploading the quiz for my students?

I stood by the luggage carousel, questioning my sanity as tired bags swam past me on a lazy river of smudged, slatted steel. The look of fatigue and disinterest those bags managed to exude made my two-days-of-no-sleep body seem perky in comparison.

Life of a teacher, Dr. Sona Thomas!

The only things I had on my mind were a shower and a long nap.

“Who’s coming to get me?” I asked, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder with one hand and trying to hold my tote with the other.

“Mihir,” Tara said at the other end. “You know him. I’ve mentioned him only a thousand times.”

“Yes, but how do I find him? It’s not like I remember what he looks like.”

“Seriously, Sona?” I could practically see Tara rolling her eyes.

“Hey, give me a break. I’ve been up for thirty hours.”

She harrumphed. “Here’s a shorthand description. Tall, very tall. Good-looking—very good-looking. Dark onyx eyes. And a beard. You’ll recognize him by his beard.”

“Okay, got it. Very tall, annoyingly handsome, and a scary beard.”

I spotted my distinctive navy blue bag with brown stripes floating toward me. I extended my arm to grab it, but before I could, a large hand came from behind me and hauled it off the belt as if it were a child’s toy.

“Excuse me, I think that’s mine,” I said to a broad chest framed in a luxurious, tailored suit. A crisp designer tie met my nose as I leaned in for the bag.

“Yes, I believe it is,” a deep voice from the chest replied.

I looked up and saw a smile beneath dark, onyx eyes.

“Mihir?”

“I believe your description was very tall and annoyingly handsome, but I take offense at the scary beard part. I spend a lot of time making sure it’s not.” He aimed the last comment at my phone, knowing full well that Tara was on the other end. “Hi, Sona.”

My face flamed, although I was still absorbing the full impact of his magnificence.

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