Chapter 6
With the sole of his shoe, Rohit shut the door to Conference Room B before shifting his tablet under his left arm.
Amid the cheerful chorus of “Hello” and “How you doin’, son,” he dutifully made his way clockwise around the long boardroom table, shaking some hands, fist-bumping others, high-fiving a few.
Every senior leadership meeting started this way for Rohit, and he was careful to take note of every person’s face as he made the rounds, cataloging each interaction to ensure his position in everyone’s good books.
Only two people in the room kept their hands in their laps: his boss, Rich, who watched him make the rounds with a small, approving smile, and Cynthia, who scowled down at the gleaming tabletop, likely conjuring curses to unleash upon him.
Her glower came as no surprise. If anyone could summon the wrath of demons in an otherwise innocuous conference room, it was the Ice Princess.
For that reason alone, Rohit was forced to complete an entire circuit around the table to avoid sitting beside her, lest she was armed and inspired to drive something sharp through his balls.
“Sorry I’m late,” Rohit said as soon as he found his seat. “I was dealing with an issue at one of the sites.”
Keer, the finance director, nodded. “Taking care of the essentials leads to excellent credentials.” Besides a quick, courteous smile, Rohit kept his face carefully blank.
Keer might be a spreadsheet wizard, but in all other areas, he was prone to spouting gibberish and Rohit didn’t want to offend him.
Or anyone. As the men fell into quiet side conversations around the table, Rohit cast a furtive glance around him.
Would he have accepted the job had he known it would entail fifty-hour workweeks of tiptoeing on eggshells and making sure he was helpful, charismatic, and indispensable to every single person at Kumar Construction?
Yes. There was no question about it, not with Maisa filling out college applications much to everyone’s surprise and delight, and the doctor upping the dosage of his grandmother’s medication.
It was worth the odd long-winded lunch break with Keer; showing Olufo, head of operations, how to convert a file to a PDF for the tenth time; or, that one time, filling in for reception when Baljinder’s daughter went into labor.
Knowing that he had become the guy everybody could trust filled Rohit with an ironic sense of satisfaction that he never allowed himself to dwell on.
Across the table, the Ice Princess cleared her throat, prompting Rohit to sit up straight in his chair.
He could imagine how much his tardy entrance grated on her nerves, how waiting for him to greet everyone frayed her patience to its last threadbare inch.
He’d learned very quickly that when it came to business, Cynthia meant, well, business.
She was the most focused and driven person he’d ever met, and nothing seemed to irritate her more than distraction.
Especially when it came to him. Unlike everyone else, she had no use for him.
It was for this reason that Rohit always tried so damn hard, even though the general environment at KC was fairly laid back.
Rich was known for employing people from all walks of life, and while everyone put in the effort, it was obvious that not everyone was stellar at their jobs.
And that was okay. Once you were in with Kumar Construction, you were part of a work family, and while Rohit couldn’t help but admire Rich’s loyalty to his staff, he sometimes wondered if a business was meant to be run this way.
The view from the top wasn’t much different, either.
Upper management behaved more like a frat club than a brain trust. Most of the men around the table wore untucked, wrinkled golf shirts or outdated, ill-fitting blazers.
From the number of times he’d been summoned to their offices, Rohit knew which of the men in the room rolled in late every morning and which were prone to dozing at their desks after lunch.
But not Cynthia. She was a machine. Rohit had chosen a three-piece suit specifically for this meeting, knowing that she would be in attendance. But looking the part was just the tip of the iceberg where the Ice Princess reigned supreme.
If Rohit brought a new, potential stakeholder to the table, Cynthia already knew everything about them, from their business history to the CEO’s dietary restrictions.
If he’d discovered new land for development, it was likely that she’d already secured the permits and held focus groups with the surrounding businesses.
If Rohit built a damn rocket ship, he’d probably find Cynthia hanging out on Mars, on the brink of mastering the alien language while redesigning their homes for them.
She ran circles around him—around everyone, really—while wearing high heels that did fantastic things for her legs and nothing for Rohit’s peace of mind.
Even now, as she straightened the folders in front of her, she leveled him with a look that left no doubt in his mind that he was wasting her time. “As I was saying,” she said, “there are several boutique hotels in Vancouver that might be a wiser investment for us.”
When Keer opened his mouth to object, Cynthia turned her glare on him, daring him to interrupt.
Keer pursed his lips and shoved his hand in his pocket, where Rohit was fairly certain he always stowed a handful of donut holes.
From his vantage point sitting beside him, Rohit could see flecks of sugar in his mustache.
“I’ve found several, including a few smaller chains, that align better with our brand,” she continued before snapping her folders open and pulling out reports.
She was so assertive and sure of herself that Rohit could not deny that he was a little turned on, even though common sense informed him that he should be a little afraid of her.
Unfortunately, that turned him on, too.
“I’ve run estimates and looked into sales histories,” Cynthia said.
“It might cost us more up front, but the long-term gains far exceed the initial investment.” With a polished black nail, Cynthia tapped a graph on one of her reports for emphasis, and it took all of Rohit’s willpower not to let his gaze linger on her elegant fingers.
Or imagine the slow, sweet burn of those onyx nails scratching down his back when she’d come apart for the second time, sandwiched between his sweat-dampened body and faded honeycomb sheets.
Rohit gave his head a rueful little shake.
On a cerebral level, he knew that the past—theirs especially—belonged in the past, but his hypothalamus lived for the replay.
Cynthia’s words were met with silence. This was often the case, as it was for any of the new or creative ideas she brought forward to this group of traditionalist, risk-averse men.
From the blank looks on their faces, Rohit could see the rusted gears struggling to turn in their heads, could practically hear the clang of metal on metal as they tried to process what Cynthia was proposing.
“We’ve already discussed this,” Larry finally said with a sigh. He turned to Rohit and shrugged, as if to say, Women, amirite? Rohit averted his eyes and subtly wheeled his chair a few inches away in case Cynthia decided to throw something at the director of sales.
Larry shook his head at Cynthia. “The Feirhair chain of motels…”
“Are old-fashioned and outdated,” Cynthia finished, her jaw tight.
Rohit glanced at the head of the table, where Rich sat with a furrowed brow. When the older man’s gaze roved the faces around the table, obviously waiting for others to speak, Rohit cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, purposefully adopting a casual, personable tone.
“The Feirhair chain of motels are a safe choice,” he said, “but I think it would be rash not to consider all our options, especially since it looks like Cynthia has done a fair bit of legwork.”
With his warmest smile, Rohit extended his hand in Cynthia’s direction so she would pass the reports his way. She made no move to do so, forcing Rohit to lean, belly down, across the table like a toddler reaching for his toy.
No one else seemed to notice the immature power play, nor how the wicked little upturn of Cynthia’s lips sent a shot of awareness straight to Rohit’s groin despite the discomfort of his shirt buttons pressing into his stomach as he dragged the bulk of the reports across the table.
Yet when he passed the papers around, the men cooperated by taking their respective copies and studying them.
Rohit couldn’t help but offer Cynthia a tentative glance. See? he tried to communicate with an affable shrug, I can be on your side. You don’t have to hate me.
In response, Cynthia’s eyes frosted over, and she subtly flashed him her middle finger before using it to tuck her glossy, chin-length black hair behind her ear.
Unfortunately for her, her snark had the opposite effect as Rohit’s attention was drawn to her earlobe.
He’d love to bite the sensitive tissue there, as she had let him do once before.
But from the way she was avoiding his gaze again, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Or ever again, at this rate. Everyone at the office knew of their antagonistic relationship, and the knowledge that it was he who received the majority of sympathetic pats did little to soothe the sting.
Cynthia didn’t seem to have any friends at the office, and Rohit wasn’t expecting to be her first.