Page 22 of The Ex Factor

I saw Imran grinning wide when I returned to the car, and we started toward my penthouse.

“Go on, say what’s on your mind.”

“Is she the one who fixed what you couldn’t?” Imran asked.

I smiled.

“I’m happy to see you happy, Boss.”

“It’s not happiness, it’s relief.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” he said and grinned wider.

“Drive, Imran.”

“It’s been a long time,” he murmured, then sighed.

He wouldn’t be this pleased if he knew who she was. No one in my family would be pleased.

I had no doubt in my mind that our connection needed to remain a secret.

AARTI

Islept well that night. Definitely better than the previous one. I kept thinking of our chance meeting and the impromptu sharing of our common grievances. Befriending Sujit, confiding in him, had comforted me. Learning that he had been hurting just as bad had somehow reassured me that I wasn’t guileless and weak. Knowing that a man as smart as Sujit had also been fooled by love’s lure made me feel less like a loser. It convinced me that there was perhaps hope for us both. A hope for a fresh start.

My condo in the city was the beginning of this new start for me.

Since our business in and around New York was expanding fast, I had convinced Dad to let me buy a place to use as a base of operations. I was already envisioning an office in the region. It would take some effort to convince him—taxes and all—but I had got my assistant gathering numbers.

That week, I checked on the status of the renovations at the condo. It had been stripped, re-floored, polished, and painted. The interior designer was working round the clock to make it good enough for me to move in soon. Staying at a luxury hotel had its perks, but home had always held a special charm for me.

I still owed Sujit a dinner. During another meeting at his office that week, I told him about the additional floor that had just become available in his building. Although I spotted his eyes light up at the offer, he gave me a diplomatic answer that he’d think about it. What I didn’t tell him was that I had cut a deal with the small business on the floor just above his, giving them two floors in another building a few blocks away offering a lucrative price for the first year.

Sujit was a good person and deserved some kindness after what he’d been through with the whole Tara affair. At least, that’s how I justified this business decision to myself. My heart, though, was smarter than to be plied by such flimsy excuses. It was also smart enough to know the futility of the path it wanted to go down.

For one, Sujit was a different person when we met alone than when I was at his office. Perhaps, like me, he also wanted to keep the lid on our connection to Tara and Sameer. The thought caused an involuntary twinge in my chest that our association will always be shrouded in shame and guilt. And for no fault of ours.

But to wallow in self-pity or seek out sympathy wasn’t my modus operandi. I was known to forge ahead through thick and thin. And that’s what I did.

That week, I called to invite him to dinner.

“How delicate is your palate?” he inquired when I asked him to recommend a restaurant.

“I’ve been known to survive all kinds of foods.”

“I know a terrific Korean place. The food is a bit spicy, but if you can get past that, you’ll never find anything better in life.”

“I’m in. Send me the name, and I’ll have my office make a reservation.”

“Let me take care of that. They usually don’t take reservations, but I have a connection.”

“Is there any restaurant in New York where you don’t have a connection?” I asked, part curious, part amused.

“What can I say? A man needs to eat.”

I laughed. “That he does, and at very exclusive places, I see.”

“This isn’t an exclusive place. It’s just incredibly good and almost always crowded. That’s the reason I’ll use my contact. Otherwise, we’d have to wait an hour for a table at the minimum.”

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