Chapter 27
Why had no one ever informed Cynthia that a mocha Frappuccino was basically an adult milkshake for breakfast?
Because this whipped-cream-topped concoction was making her day.
And it was only ten in the morning—another first for Cynthia.
After a late client meeting the evening before, she’d decided to sleep in this morning, happily burrowing right back into the soft, cozy sheets after unabashedly watching Rohit dress in a crisp slate-blue suit for work.
The lingering brush of his lips against the top of her head was the last thing she remembered before sinking back into a deep, satisfying sleep.
She’d needed the rest as much as she apparently needed this regular dose of Frappuccino in her life.
In the past, Cynthia had always deemed the drink too frivolous, the absolute wrong beverage to be carrying while breezing into work in her formal business wear, ready to fight for her seat at the table.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in, nor could she ever remember loitering outside the Desmond Business Center on one of the stone benches, reluctant to start yet another workday.
Was the sun always so generously warm and bright on a Tuesday? Were the clouds always so lush?
However, when Cynthia finally stood and turned toward the wide-set concrete staircases leading up to the building, the moment soured.
Melanie Burgos was hurrying down the center aisle, her brown leather messenger bag banging against her hip.
When she caught sight of Cynthia staring up at her, she slowed, her face wary, then challenging.
She stopped two steps above Cynthia and looked down at her with haughty eyes.
Whatever Melanie was expecting, Cynthia’s only response was to take a long, fortifying sip of her drink and stare, unblinking, right back.
They were silent for several long seconds as they sized each other up, and Cynthia had to swallow the urge to laugh.
They probably looked ridiculous.
“Cynthia,” Melanie finally said, eyeing the drink in her hands with a smirk. “Dessert for breakfast?”
“Isn’t it kind of early for you to be prowling around, trolling for a story?” Cynthia shot back.
Melanie’s lips pursed. “Isn’t it kind of late for you to be rolling into work?”
“I set my own hours,” Cynthia said, momentarily taken aback by the pride in her voice.
It might’ve been the sugar coating her tongue, but the words tasted sweeter today.
Until now, every move had been a calculated step forward to attain her father’s role and his business. But today, the morning was hers .
And now all she wanted to do was enjoy her fucking milkshake in the sun.
Cynthia grinned.
Behind her very large glasses, Melanie’s eyes widened and, combined with her thick lenses, she looked like an emoji come to life. “And here I thought you were all about the grind.”
Cynthia’s gaze drifted over Melanie’s shoulder to the office tower’s flawless glass exterior.
It felt like a lifetime ago that the sight of the shiny, professional building filled her with a sense of purpose.
She had loved breezing through the door to the rhythm of her high heels tapping on the polished floor, her mind alive and already working overtime to figure how she’d go the extra mile, cram in her never-ending slew of client meetings, and prove herself worthy to her father.
Daily, she’d reminded herself that she was too busy for dating, self-care, and anything else that distracted her from her goals.
She’d been convinced that all those things would naturally fall into place once she achieved the endgame.
“I was,” Cynthia answered, hating the uncertainty belying her words.
“I mean, I am , but…” With a quick shake of her head, Cynthia snapped her mouth shut.
She was not going to bare her soul to Melanie Burgos of all people.
Instead, she quickly hopped up the two steps so she and Melanie were on level ground, with the added benefit of her towering over the much shorter woman.
There, that felt like more familiar territory for her.
She pulled her shoulders back before asking, “What are you doing here? Still trying to sabotage Kumar Construction?”
Melanie quirked an eyebrow. “Why, is there something you want to get off your chest?” When Cynthia shot her a pointed look, Melanie rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, I’m not out to get you or your dad. In fact, I’ve heard nothing but positive changes at your company lately.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve checked in with my sources and they seem quite happy about the improved corporate culture and new strategies for engagement.”
These are all good things, so why don’t you want to go inside?
a little voice quipped in the back of Cynthia’s brain.
She gave her head a shake and forced herself to take another step toward the entrance of the building.
“I guess you’ll have to find another way to impress your boss,” she told Melanie before turning to go.
Melanie’s words, however, stopped her retreat. “Women like us always do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t pretend you’re not hustling as much as I am to get ahead,” Melanie said. “In that, at least, we’re alike.”
Cynthia wasn’t sure if it was the note of admiration in Melanie’s voice or the comparison between the two of them that sent a sliver of discomfort down her spine, but the words gave her pause and she stepped back down so she and Melanie were on even footing again.
But before she could think of an appropriate response, however, someone below them cleared his throat. Loudly.
Both women turned in unison to see two young, cocky-looking men standing below them in expensive black suits and skinny black ties. They were good-looking in a waxy, gym-bro way, but their flirty smiles were identically gross.
“Do you ladies mind not blocking the way?” the overgelled blond one said, his eyes assessing Cynthia’s bare legs. “Not that we mind the view.”
His friend leered and stroked his goatee. “Especially if you two are about to have a catfight.”
“My money’s on the tall one,” the blond one piped up again.
Cynthia traded a quick glance with Melanie.
If they were expecting her to flirt, they were dumber than they looked, and she would not apologize for taking up space.
Cynthia spread her arms wide and gestured at the two other staircases flanking the area where they stood.
“Go around,” she said, purposefully channeling her frostiest Ice Princess.
“And do better,” Melanie murmured loud enough for them to hear.
The men’s smiles dropped as they each veered in opposite directions to climb the stairs. “Bitches,” Cynthia heard the blond one grumble.
“Finance bros,” Cynthia lamented when the men had disappeared into the building.
“Oh, definitely,” Melanie agreed, cracking a smile while adding, “I could totally take you, by the way.”
A chuckle escaped Cynthia’s lips. “It would be a fight to the finish.”
“I can’t believe they expected us to move out of their way.”
“And probably apologize for it.”
“Undoubtedly.” Melanie shot Cynthia a long look. “This is why we have to hustle, Cynthia. So one day we’re running the show and guys like that will get out of our way.”
Cynthia nodded dutifully. There was no doubt in her mind that Melanie would one day fulfill that prophecy and take over The Watch , but as she slowly made her way to work, she realized her future seemed murkier by comparison.
“That wasn’t a rom-com,” Rohit announced later that night from the comfort of Cynthia’s living room as the end credits for The Devil Wears Prada began rolling on-screen. “You misunderstood the assignment.”
Drowsily, Cynthia glanced up from where she lay with her head on his lap. “You said true crime freaks you out.”
“Meryl Streep was scary in this, too.”
Cynthia sat up, patting her staticky hair down before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this movie, but the unsettled feeling rolling through her was new.
“Do you think the moral of the story is that women who try to have it all are doomed to fail?” she asked.
“No, I think the moral is that you’re not supposed to wear florals in spring.” Rohit’s playful smile fell when Cynthia stared at him blankly. “What? What’s wrong?”
Cynthia’s lips parted but she didn’t know the right words to describe the tendrils of doubt curling in the pit of her stomach. She was right back on the steps outside Kumar Construction, frosty drink melting, knowing she had somewhere to be—things to accomplish—and making no move to do so.
When she didn’t respond, Rohit tucked a lock of hair behind Cynthia’s ear, the pads of his fingers tracing the sensitive skin before pulling away.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I think you can have it all. You’re at the top of your game at work.
You—” Rohit abruptly stopped himself, but when his warm brown eyes met hers, it was clear what he had been about to say: You have me.
Her chest grew pleasantly tight as the chambers of her heart squeezed.
The space between heartbeats, Cynthia was learning, was for pining, aching, and yearning.
Falling. There was no uncertainty when it came to Rohit, forever kneeling before her, hand out and waiting for her to grab on, whether she was at her worst or her best.
But who was she without Kumar Construction? She’d chased one goal her entire life, defined her life according to her father, whose shadow engulfed everything in its path.
“I always thought I wanted more,” she said, noticing his crestfallen face and hurriedly adding, “at work. I always thought I’d run things.”
Rohit’s forehead creased. “But you already do?”
Cynthia averted her eyes as she busied herself with unfolding the throw blanket off the back of the couch and arranging it around herself just so.
She didn’t want to talk about her plans for her father’s company right now or how often she thought about the weight of her proud, hardworking father’s hand clapping her on the back, handing her the proverbial keys because she’d made it.
Because she’d proven herself as worthy of his empire, that past mistakes belonged in the past, and he needed to let it go.
It would’ve been her crowning achievement. But the crown seemed wrong now, like it wouldn’t quite fit as she’d always imagined it would. And how could she explain all of this to Rohit, who called her his queen?
“I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with everything I’ve worked for anymore,” Cynthia said instead. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, helplessly entwined on her lap.
“Hey,” Rohit said, “come here.”
Her body reacted before she could second-guess herself, and she immediately scooted closer, loving how Rohit’s arms reached for her, hauling her easily onto his lap.
Enveloped in his firm, steady hug, her head tucked securely under his chin, Cynthia could finally relax.
Here, with his warm hands sweeping soothingly up and down her back, there was room for mistakes and imperfections.
For thawing ice princesses who sometimes struggled to get along with others and maybe didn’t always want to.
This, at least, Cynthia realized as she closed her eyes and cuddled more deeply into Rohit’s broad, inviting chest, was easy. Effortless. She knew with absolute certainty that she wanted this. She wanted him.
But she wasn’t entirely convinced it was enough.