Chapter 6 #2
He still couldn’t figure it out. Maybe mixing business with pleasure was Cynthia’s ultimate taboo.
Maybe she’d woken up, realized that she’d gotten naked with the man whose idea of intellectual foreplay involved stolen lines from romantic comedies, and bolted.
Perhaps he’d been wrong that night, that he’d falsely convinced himself that under the cool exterior of a regally composed, striking woman was a vulnerability as real and enticing as fresh, raw honey.
Maybe the baffling, soul-shattering, unbelievable night they’d spent together had been entirely one-sided.
Rohit winced—maybe it was better he didn’t know. It was easier to focus on what mattered: do his job, stay in Rich’s good graces, and send money home.
And yet Rohit couldn’t help his eyes straying to where Cynthia’s fingernails drummed against the tabletop, and despite it all—the murmured conversations around them, Keer sneaking a donut hole into his mouth—Rohit’s entire being was drawn to those restless fingers as if he and Cynthia were the only ones in the room.
It took considerable effort to pull himself away and rejoin the meeting.
“These projections seem far-fetched…” Keer was muttering to Larry.
“I always say, leave the math to the men and—” Larry’s mouth immediately snapped shut midsentence when the CEO stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
“Thank you, Rohit and Cynthia, for bringing this new information to our attention,” Rich said. “We will discuss this further at our next meeting.”
In a flurry that belied her usual grace and poise, Cynthia swept the folders and remaining reports into a messy pile and stood.
She kept her eyes firmly on the floor as she stormed out.
And despite his best interests, and the fact that only a few minutes ago she’d flipped him off, Rohit leaped to his feet and followed her.
He caught her at the elevator in classic blockbuster romance style: he thrust his arm between the doors just before they closed and shot her a rueful smile before stepping inside.
Under normal circumstances, it might have been a boss move, but from the look on Cynthia’s face, it was clear that he wasn’t the hero of her story.
She looked like she’d love nothing more than to see the metal doors clamp down and shatter his arm.
Thankfully, the oversized elevator car made it easy for Rohit to keep his distance as he stepped inside.
Even though he had moved to Canada from India seven years ago, his brain always marveled at the difference in space.
Everything in this building was oversized: the doors, the tables, the hallways.
Even outside, from the giant SUVs crowding the streets and the double-wide sidewalks, the people here seemed to take up more space simply because they could .
Sometimes Rohit missed the crowds back home, where the constant layering of voices, traffic, and life infiltrated one’s ears with a comfortable kind of dissonance.
But more often than he liked to admit, he preferred the overabundance of space in this cold, dry country with its obsession for chain restaurants and maple syrup. Possibilities here seemed endless.
Possibilities he could only hope to offer his family with every wire transfer home.
“So…” he ventured, shooting Cynthia a sidelong glance. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he coughed and tried again. “It looks like they’re going to consider your idea.”
Only the Ice Princess could make a derisive snort sound somewhat royal.
With a helpless shrug, Rohit turned to face the elevator doors. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered under his breath.
On Cynthia’s sharp intake of breath, Rohit could have sworn the temperature dropped a solid ten degrees. “ What was that?”
Rohit stuffed his fists into his pockets and swallowed his smile.
Despite the real risk of first-degree frostbite in the elevator-turned-icebox, he couldn’t deny the tiny thrill he felt whenever he got a rise out of Cynthia.
It was stupid, and immature, but also so…
easy . She rose to every occasion and never pulled her punches.
He admired that about her, but he was also fond of not getting kicked in the shin with a pointy-toed shoe and so he forced himself to backpedal. “What I mean is, at least they’re considering your proposal now.”
“?‘At least’? Are you serious? This is a multimillion-dollar company on the brink of expanding into a competitive market, but my extensive and methodical research is dismissed unless I get the golden boy’s vote?
” Cynthia’s scorn whipped through him, punctuated by her jamming her thumb against the main-floor button as if doing so would make the elevator move any faster.
She was practically seething, and Rohit eyed the elevator dashboard nervously. Suddenly, the oversized elevator seemed half its size, and Rohit was very aware that he was alone in here with a furious Cynthia.
“I was just trying to help—” he said.
“Oh, right. You passed out my report like a kindergarten teacher showing off his student’s art project and somehow managed to steal the credit.”
“Whoa.” Rohit lifted his hands defensively. “I wasn’t looking for credit. I don’t want it. If that’s what you’re so mad about, I’ll clear things up with your dad right away—”
“The last thing I want is for you to talk to my dad about this. And next time you want to swoop in and save the day, don’t.”
As the numbers above the doors illuminated in descending order, Rohit’s temper rose.
Typical Ice Princess. Never gives an inch, impossible to please, and independent to the point of rudeness.
He knew better than to try with her: she was thorny at her best but spiked with poison whenever he was near.
Rohit knew that he was overly cautious about choosing the appropriate time and place to speak up, but he would never not give credit where it was due.
Besides, everyone knew Cynthia worked hard and delivered results.
But would it kill her to admit that he did, too?
That he was busting his ass to keep his seat at the table?
She wasn’t the only one working long hours, treading through office politics, and trying to go above and beyond.
He didn’t know the reasons behind her relentless ambition, but he sure as hell knew his own and they were not insignificant.
“I don’t need this,” he muttered as the doors finally slid open, ending what must’ve been the slowest elevator ride known to human existence.
But when Rohit brushed past Cynthia and made a beeline for the doors leading outside, she trailed him now.
Rohit could practically feel her frosty breath on his neck as he worked his way through the moderately crowded lobby of the Desmond Business Center and stepped outside into the glare of the afternoon sun.
There were quite a few people outside enjoying the cool May weather, sipping coffee, and scrolling on their phones.
Rohit might’ve joined them, but when he chanced a backward glance and caught Cynthia’s stormy face, he veered to the right side of the building, where the wheelchair ramp was deserted and partially secluded behind a row of large shrubs.
Rohit walked a few steps down the incline before leaning against the guardrail, arms folded across his chest, and tipped his head back. “Okay, let me have it.”
Cynthia skidded to a stop at his side. “What? What are you talking about?”
“You trailed me out here to yell at me, didn’t you?” Rohit closed his eyes and let the sun warm his eyelids. His traitorous lizard brain aside, he’d long ago given up on the hope that she’d corner him for something more enjoyable. Like making out.
Whether it was the resignation in his tone or the effects of global warming, the Ice Princess sighed, her voice thawing somewhere between annoyed and weary. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
Rohit’s head snapped downward, and he met Cynthia’s level glare with one of his own.
Likely on purpose, Cynthia had situated herself a few steps upward on the ramp, so they stood at eye level.
Briefly, Rohit wondered how many moves Cynthia required on a chessboard before declaring checkmate and demolishing her opponent.
Probably less than five.
“What don’t I get?”
Her full, burgundy lips pursed and, combined with the sun sparking fiery amber streaks in her eyes, Rohit was struck, not for the first time, at how seductive this woman could be without even trying.
He should’ve been disgusted with himself for being as attracted to her now as he had been that first time he’d laid eyes on her…
and as soon as he tore his attention away from her mouth, he’d remind himself of that.
“You’ve got everything and everyone in your pocket at Kumar Construction,” her perfect lips said. “Whatever Rohit wants, Rohit gets, and it’s just handed to him on a silver platter.”
Rohit opened his mouth to protest but Cynthia lifted an imperious finger.
“Since you started, you’ve been welcomed with open arms into the fucking members-only frat club.
You’ve been given the best portfolios, and my dad treats you like the son he never had.
” Cynthia shook her head. “It’s revolting . ”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Rohit argued. “I’m putting in the same hours, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I know you have your fancy MBA, but you have no idea what it’s like to hustle every damn second around here and not…
” Cynthia trailed off and, for a moment, seemed to forget Rohit.
She braced her hands on the railing and stared off into the building’s parking lot, her lush lips falling into an unhappy, stubborn pout.
A part of Rohit wanted to defend himself; he was no stranger to the hustle.
He was an immigrant living in Canada with no financial support, wasn’t he?
Like her, he was making every second count—impressing Rich, staying in the senior leadership team’s good graces, promising clients the world and then figuring out how to deliver…
Rohit had plenty to throw back in Cynthia’s face.
But at the mention of his credentials, Rohit shut his mouth and averted his eyes to the side of the building instead.
To everyone he worked with, he represented the wholesome immigrant success story turned box office hit.
He’d come to Canada to study and make a life for himself, working hard to find his place among the white-collar community so he could send money back home and build a name for himself in the land of opportunity.
Too bad his life wasn’t a movie. He’d love to be the underdog that rises above the odds, gets it all—and the girl—in the end. Instead, with his grandmother’s declining health and Maisa’s looming postsecondary expenses should she get in—Rohit’s happy ending seemed a long way off.
Rohit turned to Cynthia and risked nudging her forearm with his elbow. It was a bold move, but when Cynthia turned her head to look at him, he saw something he’d never seen before clouding her beautiful eyes.
She looked exhausted and it made his chest hurt. “You did an amazing job with those reports. I was only trying to help.”
“Yeah, I know. You love being the good guy at work.”
Rohit lifted his eyebrows. She was right, but was that so wrong?
Aside from constantly chasing job security like a gambler chasing a win, he liked being part of Kumar Construction, enjoyed exchanging small talk and pleasantries and seeing the same familiar faces every day.
Many of his coworkers had become his social and support system in Kelowna, where, even though people were generally friendly, Rohit hadn’t ventured too far away from KC’s corporate office thanks to the long hours and obsessive need to prove himself as indispensable.
Why would that bother someone like Cynthia, whose confidence fit her like a second skin?
Cynthia misunderstood his puzzled expression and continued in a sarcastic voice. “Mr.Popular. Rohit the White Knight. Everybody’s favorite neighbor, Mr.Rogers himself.”
“Wait, who’s Mr.Rogers?”
“Forget it.” Cynthia folded her arms on the railing and stared off into the parking lot again, her face unreadable. “It must be nice to be everyone’s hero.”
Except yours , Rohit thought. He wanted so badly to move closer to her in that moment, so much so that his shoulders actually bunched forward, his arms flexing on their own accord to do something really stupid like pulling her into a hug or tucking the stray lock of black hair that had come loose from behind her ear.
He settled for gripping the safety railing instead.
“I’m sorry the KC guys didn’t give your reports the respect they deserve,” he said in a low voice.
“They never do.”
“Are we talking about respectful workplaces?” The question came from a woman sauntering up the ramp toward them, and though she’d sounded jovial, the dark green eyes behind her oversized glasses were disturbingly shrewd.
She wore a well-tailored pantsuit and clutched a small notepad and pen in her hands.
Rohit cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
Almost imperceptibly, her lips lifted in the hint of a smug smile, and she began flipping through her notebook. “Because according to my sources, Kumar Construction doesn’t care about respecting their employees.”