Chapter 30
Two days later, Rohit was sitting in Rich’s office listening to the older man reminisce about his company’s humble beginnings in a dilapidated warehouse thirty-odd years ago when a hard knock sounded against the open doorway’s frame.
Until that moment, Rohit had been faking interest in a story Rich had told him many times before, but at the sound of that firm, decisive rap, the hairs on the back of Rohit’s neck stood up.
It had to be her.
He hadn’t seen Cynthia since that night outside her condo, but she’d haunted him anyway—the scent of sandalwood infiltrating his senses at the oddest moments, his gait automatically slowing as he passed by her empty office.
His stupid heart stuttered whenever the clip of brisk heels echoed in the halls.
He couldn’t shake her—had never been able to since that first damn night in that damn bar—but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge that little voice in the back of his mind whispering that maybe he didn’t want to.
He loved her still.
Don’t turn around , Rohit coached himself.
You need to move on. But the urge was too strong, like his bones, joints, and tendons were tethered to her aura, powerless against her pull.
He’d tried to convince himself it was for the best that she’d so coldly thrown his apology back in his face, that he was better off without this impossible, undecipherable woman in his life.
Once an Ice Princess, always an Ice Princess.
But Rohit’s heart was dusty and parched for her. Years of watching and rewatching the same plotlines play out in countless romantic comedies and still he’d been defenseless against her.
Rohit gave in, turned around, and drank in the sight of her in a modest black knee-length dress that accentuated her purposeful stride. Her liquid amber-brown eyes avoided his, and while Rohit’s heart gave a painful thump in protest, he couldn’t look away.
“What is it, Cynthia?” Rich asked, tossing his empty coffee cup in the waste bin beside his desk.
“Um…” Cynthia bit her lower lip and Rohit forced his eyes away. “Have you seen a copy of The Watch today?”
Rich shrugged at Rohit. “No.”
“They published another story about Kumar Construction. Maybe…” The tentativeness in Cynthia’s voice raised pinpricks of awareness over Rohit’s skin, and he leaned forward in his seat. “Maybe we should talk about this in private.”
Rohit made to stand, but Rich waved him back into his seat. “It’s okay,” Rich said with a half smile at Rohit. “Gotta learn media relations if you’re going to run this place.”
Risking a quick glance at Cynthia, Rohit was surprised by her face as she approached her father’s desk. She didn’t shoot daggers in his direction, nor did she look pained by the reminder that her father had named Rohit his successor.
She looked like she didn’t care. Whatever sustenance had filled Rohit’s heart from the sheer sight of her gushed right back out, leaving a dehydrated, shriveled raisinlike lump behind.
He would have preferred anger—Julia Stiles kicking a soccer ball at an unsuspecting Heath Ledger’s head or Rachael Leigh Cook screaming at a speechless Freddie Prinze Jr. at the prom Rohit could handle.
Indifference, on the other hand, was crushing.
Cynthia handed her father a copy of The Watch before taking a seat next to Rohit, staring straight ahead as her father skimmed the article. When Rich looked back up, his face was unreadable as he stared at Rohit. “This article claims you never got your MBA.”
“What?” Rohit reached forward and yanked the newspaper out of Rich’s hands. The words blurred on the page as Rohit’s eyes frantically sought those damning three letters. “It says what ?”
Beside him, Cynthia made a pained sound in the back of her throat.
“This is defamation of character.” Rich’s voice rose. “I cannot believe they would print such lies. I’m going to—”
“Dad,” Cynthia said quietly.
Rich didn’t hear her. “—call Tim right now and—”
“Dad—” Cynthia said.
“I’m going to demand a retraction!” Rich muttered as he angrily scrolled through his phone.
With shaky hands, Rohit placed the newspaper back on the desk. “Stop.” To his own ears, the protest sounded weak and tired, but it carried enough weight to grab the attention of both Cynthia and her father.
“Rohit?” Rich asked.
“Rohit,” Cynthia echoed.
At the soft caution in Cynthia’s voice, Rohit stiffened.
It was his turn to ignore her now. “Everything in this article is true,” he said to Rich.
He pretended not to notice Cynthia’s sharp intake of breath and the way her hands clamped onto the arms of her chair.
She was probably afraid he’d out her for leaking the story, trashing Kumar Construction’s reputation and her own at the same time.
Because that was all she cared about, wasn’t it?
“Cynthia, shut the door,” Rich commanded. When she’d obeyed, Rich picked up the paper again. “Which parts are you talking about exactly? Because it says here that—”
“Everything,” Rohit replied. “When you interviewed me for the job, I didn’t correct you when you congratulated me on getting my MBA. And I’ve let everyone believe I have one.”
Well, almost everyone. Still, Rohit refused to look at her.
A deep crease settled between his boss’s eyebrows. “Why?”
“Shortly before applying for a job here, I dropped out of my MBA program because my family needed financial help. When you didn’t check into my credentials, I couldn’t pass up the job opportunity.
” Rohit dragged a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry, Rich. I deserve every single consequence for lying to you.
I’m not proud of it, but after my grandmother’s stroke, I didn’t see any other option.
I am so sorry for bringing this on the company. ”
Rich leaned back in his seat, his hands folded together and stacked on his abdomen.
Rohit didn’t allow himself to break eye contact, even as Rich’s sharp, scrutinizing gaze inspired a slow, agonizing heat to scale up Rohit’s spine.
His humiliation, however, was no match for his guilt, but there was no apology worthy of what he’d done.
Beside him, Cynthia cleared her throat, but as she parted her lips, Rohit beat her to the punch. “I’ll resign,” he said.
Although Rohit rarely found himself one step ahead of Cynthia, there was no victory in besting her.
To his surprise, he felt very little anger toward her, too.
He should have been livid that she would betray him this way, that everything they’d been through—the good and the bad—could amount to this kind of revenge. And for what? A CEO position?
When Rohit finally turned to look at her, he felt nothing but pity for Cynthia. “Well, I guess you’ll get what you want now.”
She looked stricken. “Rohit, this isn’t…This isn’t what I want.”
Rohit shook his head. He knew he wasn’t blameless in this, but at least he hadn’t sought to hurt anyone in this whole mess.
Despite himself, Rohit felt a little lightheaded.
Perhaps it was the whiplash of events or the realization that he was now unemployed, but that didn’t explain the newfound lightness he felt in his chest or the strange urge to laugh.
He remembered feeling this way once before.
It was on that first day he’d arrived in Canada—after two days of traveling and one heinous layover, Rohit had stepped out of the Toronto Pearson Airport and experienced this same rush of relief: I made it , he’d thought, his eyes, ears, and heart overwhelmed in the most exhilarating way, I can breathe now .
Thanks to Cynthia, he was free. Sure, he’d need to find a new job quickly—perhaps even move to a new city—but at least this time, he could do it right.
Rohit met Rich’s gaze again. “I’m really sorry for deceiving you, Rich,” he said again.
Rich’s head tilted to the side, considering. “We need privacy,” he said. But when Rohit tried to stand again, the older man raised a commanding hand. “Not you,” he said before shooting Cynthia a meaningful glance.
Cynthia wet her lips and reached out to touch Rohit’s hand, but when he shifted out of reach, she pulled her hand back, as if burned.
Still, she asked, in a soft voice: “Rohit?”
Rohit looked at her. Funny how a face could be so, so beautiful while, at the same time, leave him so, so empty.
“You should leave,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.
His mind reached for the many instances over the past year where she’d shut him down, turned a frosty shoulder toward his efforts to befriend her.
He didn’t want to stoop to her level, but after months of working with the Ice Princess, he’d learned a thing or two.
Cynthia stood and looked at him beseechingly.
Rohit turned away. “I think I’ve gotten what I deserve ,” he said quietly, shooting her words right back at her. “Don’t you?”