Page 2 of The Ex Factor

I pushed the papers away with a frown. “How’s Kitty?”

Devi greeted that with a disapproving sigh. “You know she hates it when you call her that.”

“She’s seven, and she loves it.Youhate it,” I said while she kept her dazzling glare trained on me.

“Katyayaniis better. It turned out to be a sinus infection,” she said.

“Good. And her useless father?”

“He’d come over on the weekend for his bi-weekly visit.”

“Did he behave?”

“He has no choice if he wants to keep seeing his daughter.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” Devi asked.

“How are you?”

She gave a slight nod. “I’m financially secure and have a beautiful daughter. If he wants to spend his life with that woman, that’s his choice. I’m happy without him.”

“Good,” I said and picked up the papers again. “That’s good.”

“They need your approval to move ahead with the renegotiations,” she reminded me as I read the document again.

“Is there a way out of this outrageous rent hike?”

Devi’s lips curled up as if this was the question she was waiting for. She took a step toward me and tapped her pen on her colorful planner. This year’s planner was floral. Peonies. “There is. Meet with them and present our case.”

I frowned like she knew I would, but before I could get a word in, she contended, “It will give our case credence, you know, coming directly from the boss, someone as influential as you.”

My frown deepened. I didn’t have time for unnecessary meetings, especially when they involved drawing on my limited resources to ingratiate myself for the sake of my business. Notthat I wasn’t good at it. I just hated doing it. I had done a lot of it during the early years when I was looking for angel investors and VCs. But I didn’t think I would need to do it at this stage in my career.

“That’s our final resort, Sujit,” Devi declared, and I glanced at her as she gave me a pointed look.

She only called me by my name when she stepped into the role of an adviser, and she was a darn good one.

I let out a deep sigh and returned the papers back to the desk. “Alright, set up a meeting with this new real estate whatever. Let me talk to them. But if I’m getting involved, I don’t want their minions. I want to talk to the boss.”

Devi grinned. “You’re in luck. She arrived this morning. I’ve emailed her assistant for a meeting.”

“You knew I’d say that?”

“I knew I could talk you into it. You’re so easy,” she teased sans a smile. “I’ve only known you since you came to work in shorts and a T-shirt like a college kid.”

“Iwasa college kid!” I cried with a defensive frown.

This time, she graced me with her warm smile before leaving my office.

I was a college kid when I started tinkering with the idea of starting a software company. I use the word “kid” loosely because I was in the final year of my master’s degree when the idea materialized. Three years later, the company took off successfully, but jeans and “tees” remained my ensemble of choice, as it is for most engineers. When we feel desperate enough to don a three-piece suit, we shift gears and go to business school.

I chuckled again, aware of the fact that every thought finding passage through my mind right now was only to distract me from thinking about the heartache rolled up in the word Dallas. My mind raced back to the card locked up in my desk drawer.

Stepping over to the glass wall of my 22nd-floor midtown suite, I gazed down at the Manhattan streets, always busy, always alive. My office was silent as a smile, but I could hear the city’s buzz in my head. The constant chatter of people on the streets, the shouts of panhandlers, resident New Yorkers cursing bloody tourists for messing up the flow on the sidewalks. I could hear the drills and the thrills that made this city my home. The fall had set in hard, and it would be only a minute before it dragged in the cold, harsh winter.

I sighed, setting my gaze at the horizon.

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