Epilogue
SUJIT
T he door to my office was locked, and the switchable glass walls were turned opaque. Holding Aarti at the waist, I ran my hand up her thigh and around to her butt. The pencil skirt she wore today was gathered unceremoniously at her hips.
She tugged the jacket off my shoulders and tossed it to a chair behind her.
“We have fifteen minutes before the staff arrives,” she warned breathily.
“And only ten before Devi does,” I added and leaned her against the table.
Descending to my knees, I moved the lace aside and ran my tongue between her delicate lips. She moaned and pushed her hand into my hair. I put my eager, diligent mouth to work.
A few silent beats passed as she tried to modulate her breath. “Wait! I can’t do this!” she cried.
I stopped and looked up at her with a cocked eyebrow.
She pulled me up by the collar of my shirt. “I’m too turned on.”
I ran a finger through her dripping-wet slit and said, “I can see that, and I want to lick it all off you right now.”
Yanking my hand out, she guided my fingers to my mouth. I licked them like they were covered in honey. When I caught her gazing at me with raw desire, I put the same fingers in her mouth and sighed as the warmth of her tongue enveloped them.
“You look so beautiful right now,” I whispered, helpless against her touch. “Let me eat you until I’m satisfied.”
“There’s not enough time for that,” she argued. “Ten minutes isn’t going to cut it. I need more of you. I need to feast on your body, swallow you whole.”
The words had barely left her mouth when I pounced on it, thrusting my tongue deep. She moaned and sucked it like she sucked my dick. With my hands on her lower back, I pulled her closer to me. Our unseemly slobbering sounds echoed in the quiet office.
Finally, she put her hands on my chest and pushed me away.
“Lunchtime?” she asked breathlessly. “We can make a quick getaway.”
I nodded just as we heard shuffling outside my office.
“Good thing,” she whispered. “Devi’s here already.”
Quiet as mice, we pulled on our clothes and smoothed out any evidence of mischief. I grabbed her one last time and kissed her hard.
“Careful! Lipstick!” she warned softly.
With the handy makeup wipes she’d begun carrying, she cleaned our faces. Clearly, I couldn’t be trusted to keep my mouth off her. Or my hands. Then, quickly reapplying the color on her lips, she dumped everything in her bag.
We retook our places on the chair and couch, per our usual routine, and I switched the glass back to transparent. Devi had occupied her throne behind her desk and was already at work.
It had been six months since Aarti had relocated to New York City. We kept base in our own apartments but often spent time together for days on end. She had become comfortable around my family and with my staff. Well, it was her staff now.
We had entered into a formal partnership with Creators’ Studio.
In a short time, Aarti had managed to not only build it from the ground up but also define its shape and character.
She had brought Padma and her friend on as consultants, whose guidance helped build tangible features into the program.
Aarti also consulted with Tara, often course-correcting according to her suggestions.
Starting a non-profit to address child hunger had been a long-held dream of Aarti’s. Last month, she’d started the procedure to create one. It was slated to begin its operations in the U.S. and gradually spread across the globe to end child poverty and hunger.
As I watched her with intense admiration, she brought her eyes to meet mine.
“Focus,” she reprimanded with love. “Did you take a look at the documents I had sent?”
“Yes. I agree with everything you suggest.”
“Hey.” She gave me a stern look. “ Did you read everything?”
“I did, yes, ma’am. And I agree with everything you suggest,” I repeated with emphasis.
We had bought out Manoj’s company from Vinay, who was glad to have it off his hands.
Manoj had thrown petty tantrums when he was ousted, but Vinay had managed the takeover spectacularly.
He let the world see that Manoj’s behavior was no better than an entitled frat boy, while he remained the untouchable, immaculate investor with the private equity who had swooped in to save the day.
Manoj’s disgraceful reaction also ensured that he would find no support in the industry for many years to come.
My conviction had held true. He had managed to ruin his own professional credibility.
After the party at the Ritz-Carlton, the press had continued to tout Aarti and me as a power couple, a force to look out for.
We were featured everywhere from fashion magazines to editorials about social change.
None of this fazed us, though. We continued to work quietly on projects that were meaningful to us.
The noise, however, effectively drowned out the narratives that expected us to be shameful of our relationship.
With a singular, dignified interview conducted by a prominent news outlet, Aarti had spectacularly destroyed Manoj without once uttering his name.
She had left just enough breadcrumbs for people to be intrigued and take it upon themselves to figure out who had dared to blackmail her.
Once Manoj’s name was discovered as having slipped the rumors to the tabloid, his personal reputation had dwindled as swiftly as his professional.
She had relegated him to the point of no return.
The previous month, I bought the company with backing from new investors who saw the promise of growth under new leadership.
Aarti managed to convince her father to invest in it, although the money now was Aarti’s.
Her savvy had finally convinced her father to let her pursue her own path with a share of the wealth she’d earned and deserved.
He was still bitter about her moving away from Dallas and, ergo, threw me a cold shoulder now and again, but I wasn’t worried.
Everyone else in her family had accepted me as the reason for her happiness, and I was certain in time, I would win over her father.
“There is only one person I envision as the COO of this venture,” Aarti said as we fleshed out the list of possible C-suite candidates for the cyber security company.
My lips turned up as I looked at her from above the rim of my glasses. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Tejal,” we both said in unison.
“Definitely Tejal,” she said making several lines on the paper in her lap. “Oh, how I wish I could see his face when we make that announcement.”
She tapped her pen several times on the folder in thought. “I think it’s time she reclaimed her rightful place in your game-night group. Now that Manoj’s out, why don’t you ask her?”
“Or you can, when we call her in for the position.”
“It’s not my place, Sujit. I’m not a part of the group, and I don’t wish to be. That’s your space, your nerding-out time. I wouldn’t dream of encroaching on it.”
“Why don’t you just come out and say that you have better things to do?”
She smiled. “That too, but I really want you to have your own time. I promise it’s not a ruse.”
My eyes stilled on her again, my sight glazing over her face.
Aarti Bhatia was power personified—Shakti herself—a goddess walking the earth, and I felt both proud and humbled that she had chosen me as her consort.
“What are you looking at?” she said as a blush tinted her bronze cheeks.
I closed the file in my lap and placed it on the coffee table between us.
“Aarti, we both have been scarred by surprises,” I began. “So I will never surprise you with a marriage proposal. But I want you to know that I’ll be ready whenever you are. You just have to say the word.”
Her mouth gaped as her eyes widened. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you are proposing to me right now.”
I returned a sheepish smile. There was nothing standing between us anymore. “May be I am.”
She frowned. “This looks suspiciously like a surprise.”
“It’s not.” I reassured, holding my palms out. “See? No ring.”
She returned a bright smile, then got off the couch and stepped over to me. I stood with her, my heart lurching in my mouth.
“Yes. I will marry you,” she declared in the understated manner that had been the essence of our relationship.
Our bodies stunned to stillness for a moment before she gasped and placed a hand on her mouth.
“Shit! Did we just…” she cried.
“I think we did.”
Devi’s knock on the glass door shook us out of the limbo.
When I waved her in, she entered with a curious expression, studying our stunned faces.
“What’s wrong?” she asked urgently.
I exchanged a look with Aarti and we both grinned wide.
“I think we just got engaged,” I announced.
Her jaw dropped open, then a wide grin appeared on her face, crinkling her eyes.
“Oh my goodness!” she squealed.
She stepped over to Aarti and me. “I’ve never done this before but I’m going to do it today,” she warned before taking us both in a tight hug. “I am so happy!”
When she released us from her embrace, she declared, “I’m going to reschedule all your meetings for today. You both should go and celebrate, and we need to plan a grand party.” The wheels in her head were already spinning.
As Devi rushed out, I turned to Aarti. She averted her shy eyes.
My love, gratitude, and reverence toward her became the swift kiss I placed on her cheek. “I need to pinch myself. I can’t possibly be this happy.”
She looked at me and delivered a pinch on my forearm.
“Ouch!” I cried.
“Satisfied?”
“Yes. In so many ways, I can’t begin to express.”
“I need to call my parents,” she said and rushed over to retrieve her phone from her cherry red tote.
I pulled out my own and stepped over to the window.
While I waited for Amma to answer her phone, I heard Aarti’s voice, “Ma, I need to tell you something…something good.”
I stared at her jubilant face and found myself powerless against her brilliance and grace. As I watched her talk to her family, wearing the look of a lovelorn teenager in my eyes, I silently thanked our exes. Without them, we wouldn’t be here.
THE END