Chapter 10
Mina knew that she hadn’t been working on the Bharat case for long, but she was starting to get frustrated by the end of her third week.
She had yet to find anything linking company secrets to Sanjeev.
In fact, based on everything she’d seen, WTA had offered well above market value which would make the Singhs, the board and shareholders very wealthy, while WTA’s projections were not looking very healthy for long term success.
She hadn’t told Hem or his brothers that yet, but she’d have to soon. Especially since her uncle was breathing down her neck about a response. She’d managed to hold him off, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could avoid his calls.
Mina leaned her head back against the train seat and tried to push thoughts of work out of her head. She just had to get through this dinner with her father, and then she could spend the day with Hem on Saturday.
He’d been the one bright light in her day that she looked forward to seeing whenever she walked into the office.
After their weekend date to Dosa Hutt and the planetarium, she was more aware of him, more cognizant of what it meant if they spent more time together.
Hem was obviously on the same page because he’d showed up at her apartment last Saturday with a whole new date idea planned. Pottery class, a picnic and a movie.
It was…sweet.
During working hours, he respected her boundaries and remained professional, even though he still brought her a large skinny vanilla latte with no foam the minute she walked through the front doors.
Okay, and when no one was watching, he spoke to her in Punjabi, and his eyes always seemed to light up whenever he responded in kind.
It was as if he was sharing a secret with her, a secret he’d never told anyone else.
But other than that, they were all work.
Except for the text messages.
Good mornings and good nights were standard, but so were the compliments on her outfits. The memes he thought she’d enjoy. Restaurant reviews for places that he wanted to take her. Late night debates about key court cases that made headlines.
He was intelligent, charming and more importantly, he was wearing her down.
“This is Metropark. Next stop, Metuchen.” The New Jersey transit automated voice pushed her out of her trance, and Mina got up, laptop bag and tote in hand, to follow a small crowd onto the train platform and down the stairs.
She approached one of the idling cabs and recited her father’s address for the driver.
“Are you Indian, ma’am?” the sweet- looking older gentleman said. He had a thick accent, and a weathered wrinkled face that made her think of happy grandfathers. His smile was bright and cheerful as he peeked at her through the rearview mirror.
“Isn’t everyone Indian in Edison?” she said.
The man howled in laughter as if he’d never heard the joke before. “Yes, but you don’t look like you’re from Edison. Where in India are you from?”
“My father is from Delhi, my mother from Amritsar, I’m from New Jersey,” she said, reciting the same answer she’d given most of her life.
“Punjabi!” he said with such enthusiasm that he practically bounced in his seat. “Not too many in Edison.” He switched into her familiar language, and Mina enjoyed the driver’s happy chatter as a distraction from the evening that lay ahead.
Her father was hosting a small dinner party that she thought was a delayed birthday celebration for her.
Unfortunately, the invite came with a dress code as well as a warning that her uncles would be there.
Her disappointment was swift, along with the realization that he’d forgotten about her birthday dinner all together.
This was going to be a networking event.
The cab pulled into a circular driveway in front of a large colonial home. She paid the driver and slid out of the car with her things just as the front door opened.
“Daddy?”
Her father, tall and broad shouldered, stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He wore the same black suit Mina had seen him in countless times before whenever they passed each other in the halls at the firm.
“I wanted to see if you were wearing heels,” he said. He eyed her shoes and scowled. “Mina, you’ll have to change out of those.”
“You know I always take my shoes off when I come in the house. It’s not that big of a deal.” She gave him an air- kiss on his cheek and turned to walk inside.
“No, you have to wear shoes through dinner,” he said, stepping in front of her.
“What? In the house? We never wear shoes in the house.”
“Our guests don’t believe in that cultural practice.”
Mina gaped. “Cultural pr— who are these people!”
Her father crossed his arms over his chest. “Mina.”
She laughed and patted him on his arm before walking past him. “If your guests want shoes in the house, I’ll wear them to make everyone feel comfortable. But no one, even you, will tell me what kind of shoes I can wear, Daddy.”
“Are you trying to embarrass everyone?”
“Hey, I didn’t ask to be this tall,” Mina said over her shoulder. “But since I am, it’s fun to watch grown adults feel inferior to a tall woman with Louboutins.”
Her father was usually never so strict about her shoes, which meant that whoever he’d invited over wasn’t someone he knew very well. She twisted the doorknob, and strode inside, passing the empty space in the foyer where she would’ve normally removed her heels.
“Gross,” she muttered, but this was no longer her house.
She followed the sounds of chatter into her father’s living room.
When she entered the space, there were five people seated on the sectional.
Her uncles Sanjeev and Nakul, Mr. and Mrs. Aulakh, and Virat Aulakh, the man that her uncles wanted her to marry to secure the immigration law firm acquisition.
Son of a bitch.
It was all starting to make sense as to why her father and uncles wouldn’t tell her the names of the clients attending the dinner party.
Her grunt of disapproval must’ve been loud, because every single head in the room turned to face her.
Virat was leaning against the fireplace, holding a wineglass. His hair was cut short, and his chin was still weak. His white button- down shirt was tucked into khaki pants and brown loafers. When he smiled at her, that bright, hopeful grin, she had to fight the urge to gag.
To keep her reaction in check, she looked at the other two guests in the room. Mr. Aulakh was dressed identically while Virat’s mom wore a bright floral blouse. Unlike the other smiling members of the party, Mrs. Aulakh glared at Mina’s heels.
“Hello, everyone,” Mina finally said. “I apologize for my delay. The trains are always so unpredictable.”
“You should’ve taken a car, Mina,” Sanjeev said in a thick, disapproving tone. “Then you could’ve enjoyed Virat’s wonderful stories about his trip to South Africa.”
“Oh?” She placed her things on an empty seat at the end of the couch. “I didn’t know you’d been out of the country, Virat. I hope you had a good trip.”
Virat approached her and Mina had to bend her knees so that he could press a kiss to her cheek. She remembered the first time she stood next to Hem. It had felt right, unlike the awkwardness she currently had to endure.
“Wine, Mina?” her father asked.
“Yes, please,” she said. “Whatever everyone else is drinking.”
“I’m drinking seltzer,” Mrs. Aulakh said. She stood, her lips pinched, as she motioned to the glass in her hands. Her hair was cut in a militant bob colored an unnatural black and didn’t move an inch when she nodded. The woman held her glass up a little higher, pointing to it.
Mina almost groaned. Virat’s mom was one of those. The surviving breed of aunties that demanded traditional gender roles and suppression. Thank god her mother had taught her the difference between choice and ignorance.
Mina’s father cleared his throat to interrupt the silence.
“I’ll still have the wine, Daddy. Thanks. I’m Mina Kohli, Mrs. Aulakh. We haven’t met in person, but I’ve heard so much about you. I see Virat has your beautiful eyes.” She softened at that and leaned forward for Mina to air- kiss her cheek.
She turned to the other man in the room. “And you must be Mr. Aulakh. I read your white paper on the moral ambiguity of revoking work visas for valid H-1B spouses. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He didn’t bother to stand from his sprawled position on the couch. “You as well, guddia. You as well. It’s nice to meet the woman that may cost me the law firm that I’ve worked so hard to build.”
She ignored the childish endearment of doll, took the wineglass her father passed her, and then froze.
“Wait . . . I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said it’s nice to meet you since your marriage to my son may cost me my firm!”
She looked over at Sanjeev, who smirked at her.
That son of a bitch. He was trying to fuck with her here in her mother’s old home.
Mina plastered a serene smile on her face. “Well, I hope you’ll consider the merger regardless of any proposed . . . arrangement that my uncles have hinted toward. Arrangements that I haven’t been privy to hearing before now.”
The grin on Mr. Aulakh’s face morphed into confusion.
“I’ve seen the projections, the numbers, and I’ve done the benchmarking myself,” Mina continued. “You’d profit heavily from the deal.”
“And Mina knows profitability!” Nakul Uncle said as he stood, patting his belly.
Nakul Uncle was the most useless man that she’d ever known. Half the time, she didn’t even know if he was sitting in the room since he usually let Sanjeev Uncle do all the talking.
Mina also made it her mission to avoid looking at him because he resembled her mother the most. “Thank you. Nakul Mamu,” Mina said, using the respectful term for her mother’s brother.
Before anyone could respond, Mina’s father’s cook stepped into the entranceway. “Dinner is served in the dining room, family style.”