by Nisha Sharma
Except maybe an arranged marriage.
She shifted against her silk pillowcase, thinking about her uncle’s offer. If she married Virat, the son of the managing partner at J.J.S. Immigration Law, she’d get the equity partner position at her mother’s firm. Her marriage would make way for the union of two of the largest South Asian-owned firms in the country.
The problem was that she wasn’t attracted to Virat. He was such a nice guy, but unfortunately, he possessed the personality of a cardboard box.
Mina’s phone buzzed in her hand. Her eyebrows rose clear to her hairline when she saw Sanjeev’s number. Her uncle rarely called her, and never at four in the morning. Maybe he remembered it was her birthday. Doubtful, but Sanjeev was full of surprises.
“Yes?”
“You agree to the partner position yet, girl?”
Mina slowly sat up. “No, I’m still thinking it through.”
“What the hell is taking you so long?”
“You’re basically bartering me for an immigration firm. I deserve some time.”
His gruff voice boomed in her ear. “There may be another way to get you that equity partner position. Get to the office. There is an emergency board meeting at Bharat, Inc., and you’re the only senior associate with patent experience who has the bandwidth to take on another case. If you’re here in an hour, that’ll give you, oh, three hours to prep on the company, the other board members, and WTA Digital.”
Mina’s mind raced as she tried to piece together facts. Bharat had recently gone public, but they were floundering, or so the news said. Sanjeev was friendly with the CEO and chairman, which was how he’d been selected to be part of the board. WTA Digital, however . . . Well, their name was as well-known as Google. A tech company that was in bed with the government. They did everything from artificial intelligence and smartphones, to government defense projects and NATO commissioned research.
“Mina! Are you there?”
“I’m here. Let me guess. Offer for purchase?”
“Just get to the office, girl.”
Even though Mina hated her uncle, his words made her smile. Once she’d put in her dues, she’d slowly edge out her uncles. Then she’d take the firm to another level, one that would make her mother proud. Cases like a WTA takeover would be the norm for her.
As she showered, she dictated to her digital assistant and drafted emails to her legal assistant and paralegal. She needed to rearrange her schedule, which meant shifting two client calls and asking for an extra day to review a contract.
Mina slipped into a maroon suit dress with matching pumps and a coordinating Chanel bag. Because it took her an extra minute to pile her long hair on top of her head in a sleek updo, she had to call for a car to pick her up in front of her apartment building in Chelsea.
“Looking lovely today, Ms. Kohli,” George said as he opened the door for her. “Spring weather at its finest.”
“Thanks, George. I may have a meeting with a new client today.”
“Knock ’em dead.”
“I always do.”
The car was already waiting at the curb, and in a practiced move, she folded herself into the back seat and answered emails for the entire drive to Park and 40th.
The lights were on in the building when she scanned her badge and stepped through the glass doors and into the offices for Kohli and Associates. She loved the rows of redwells stacked on top of the filing cabinets that hardly anyone used anymore, the desks for the paralegals and assistances crammed with paper, discarded coffee cups, and personal items. Most of all, she loved that her floor was high enough to get a view of the East River along one row of windows. Sometimes when she was going for a run or binging on movies at her condo, she’d imagine this exact view was spread out in front of her.
“Mina?” her uncle roared from his corner office.
She headed toward the sound, passing empty cubicles along the way. When she reached her uncle’s assistant’s desk, she paused to admire the woman typing away at the keyboard. Except for the circles under her eyes, Sangeeta was pressed and polished, as if it wasn’t five thirty in the morning.
“Good morning, Mina. He’s ready for you.”
“Why don’t you get some coffee, Sangeeta?”
“No, I’m okay.”
Mina pulled out her company card and handed it to her. “Get something for yourself. Pastry, too. And if you don’t mind, coffees for me and the dragon.”
She glanced at his office and then back to Mina. “I shouldn’t . . .”
“I’ll keep him busy. You look like you could use some fresh air. I think the cart downstairs just opened up.”
Sangeeta glanced one more time at Sanjeev’s open door before she quickly grabbed her small purse from a bottom drawer in her desk. “Thanks, Mina.”
“Anytime. You can always come to me if you need anything. I know that you trusted my mom when you worked for her. I want you to know that you can trust me, too.”
“I—I’ll be right back,” she said before she scrambled down the hall.
“Mina!” her uncle roared again.
She stepped into the corner office, ignoring the smell of stale cigarettes. The space was a pigsty with papers everywhere. There were discarded suitcoats and ties, dirty bowls and mugs, and an overflowing ashtray. She passed the small conference table and dropped her bag into one of his client chairs.
Her uncle turned in his high-back chair, dressed in a black suit and wearing a thunderous scowl. “What took you so long?”
“You said an hour.”
“Whatever. Sit down.”
Mina pulled her tablet out of her bag and sat in the second chair. “WTA Digital wants to purchase Bharat. The board is going to have to appoint a committee to determine if the value of the offer is equivalent to the value of the company based on forecasting and financials. Depending on the technicality of the patents Bharat has and how well management at Bharat cooperates, it’ll take a while to make that decision. This whole thing could take anywhere from ten days to months. WTA’s offer is only good for thirty days, but that can be renegotiated.”
Her uncle leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his round belly. “Good. That’s very good. I want you to head the committee that’s reviewing the offer.”
“The committee has to be an impartial party.”
Sanjeev ran two fingers over his mustache. “I talked to a friend of mine who handles high profile acquisition cases. Even though I’m on the board, it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest if one of my attorneys takes the case. As long as they don’t report to me. I also talked to Deepak’s son at Bharat. They’re okay with my firm’s involvement. The remaining members of the committee will be selected by the rest of the board. They’ll need to be experts in business intelligence, integrity, and finance.”
“Okay. You do realize that I’ll have to be on site a couple times a week, right? I do have the bandwidth to take this on since I just closed out a bunch of cases, but court dates, depositions, and meetings for the rest of my workload will have to be rescheduled.”
“Fine. Do what you have to do. I want the committee to make a decision as quickly as possible, so if that means you set up a makeshift office there, so be it. Oh, and there is one more thing.”
“Shoot.”
“I’ll make you equity partner, with or without the arranged marriage to Virat, if you report to the Bharat board at the end of your review that we need to take WTA’s offer.”
Mina jerked in her seat. “What the hell?” She couldn’t have heard him right. There was no way he’d just asked her point-blank to commit a crime.
“I know you don’t want to marry Virat,” Sanjeev continued. “I also know you’ll do whatever it takes to become partner. I’m willing to give you another opportunity. One that doesn’t include an arranged marriage. Make the WTA deal happen, Mina. If you can’t, then it’s wedding bells for you. Unless of course, you’d rather be unemployed.”
Sanjeev looked too smug, t
oo content. Was he testing her, or trying to get rid of her? She’d do anything to get her mother’s company back, except lose her integrity.
“I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. Sanjeev, you aren’t seriously asking me to sabotage the vote.”
“This is how the real world works, Mina. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. Bharat is in the process of registering a patent for software that can locate moving targets traveling over two hundred miles an hour with ninety-eight point eight seven percent accuracy. It’s my friend’s latest invention in an effort to find missing persons across the world. However, I’m a lawyer and a businessman. I know that they’ll never be able to do it. WTA has the resources and manpower to successfully execute the research.”
“How the hell did you find this out?”
“Oh, the R&D team presented to the board last quarter,” Sanjeev said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Just look like you’re doing a due diligence review, but in the end, your report should have one conclusion. It’s not only for your future’s sake, but also because it’s the smartest move.”
Sanjeev wasn’t telling her the whole truth. That much was clear. He was asking Mina to jeopardize her license and do something unethical for the sake of staying at the firm. Did she appear so driven that he assumed she’d consider risking her future for a chance at a partner position?
Mina should’ve thrown his proposition back in his face, when something about his expression made her pause.
Bingo.
If she pretended to go through with his plan, it would buy her time to find out if her uncle had waded into anything illegal himself.
She stood and picked up her bag. “Fine. I’ll consider . . . all of this. When do we leave for the board meeting?”
“Two hours. Remember, I’m counting on you to make the right decision for both your career and this law firm. It’s about time I get some use out of you.”
Her hand tightened on her purse handle. “I’ll be in my office.”
She left the stifling room, her brain running through legal ethics violations and consequences that Sanjeev could be involved in when she ran straight into Sangeeta.
“Uh, Ms. Kohli? Your coffee and card.”
“Oh. Thanks, Sangeeta.”
Sangeeta picked up a small wrapped package from her desk and held it out. “And I got you this,” she said quietly. “I was reviewing your employment contract for signature and saw your birth date. I know you haven’t celebrated it in a while, and a croissant isn’t much compared to a cake but . . .”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to—”
“Happy thirtieth birthday.”
“Oh. Uh . . . thanks.” Mina took the pastry, feeling queasy at the idea of eating anything at the moment. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. You have your whole life ahead of you, Mina. Don’t waste it . . . here with some of these people.”
With a sigh, Mina dropped the pastry and card into her bag. “I don’t know where else I’d rather be. I feel closest to Mama here. Thanks again, Sangeeta.”
Chapter Three
After checking in with his mother about his father’s health, Hem managed to score a few hours of sleep on his flight back to the States. The only problem was that he didn’t have any time to stop at his penthouse for a shower. Instead, he took a car straight from the airport to his father’s office, which spread across seven floors of a high-rise on Park Avenue.
As he entered the reception area, he paused, taking in the renovations that his brother had done. During Hem’s tenure, the New York headquarters was comprised of gray cubicles and standard boxed offices. Since Ajay took over operations, the space had been gutted and redesigned as an open office workspace. Rows of standing desks were occupied by diligent employees focused on dual screen monitors. In the middle of the floor, clusters of colorful couches and sitting areas were used for conversation and informal team meetings.
Hem had been coming to the office since he was a little boy, but it had been a long time since his father welcomed him at Bharat. Hem had to work at suppressing a mix of nerves and anticipation.
“Can I help you, sir?” a petite older woman said from behind the reception desk. She had to be a new hire that started, what, in the last year or so? Had that much changed since he quit as COO?
“I’m good,” he replied and turned left to walk down the hallway.
“Sir! You’re not allowed to be here unescorted! I’ll have to call security.”
“You can call security, but it’ll just waste time for both of us. I appreciate that you’re doing your job, but I’m the owner’s son.”
He heard her gasp and suppressed a grin as he continued down the hallway to the large boardroom in the back.
Hem turned the corner and saw his brothers, Ajay and Zail, standing to the left of the double doors wearing custom three-piece suits similar to his and gripping their cell phones. His younger brothers, Hem thought. These idiots were the reason why he dropped everything.
He’d seen Ajay two months ago, and he looked exactly the same. Lean, clean-shaven, and alert. He was almost a direct contrast to Hem’s day-old scruff. Zail, his baby brother, had been buried in his lab for the last six months. Not that Hem could tell since Zail’s arms were still as thick as a lumberjack’s. His beard had grown out, even though it was neat and trim. His hair was longer, too, and he had tied it in a fucking man bun.
A man bun. Their ancestors would’ve laughed.
“Oh, chutiyae,” Hem said. “I made it.” Ajay and Zail looked up simultaneously with haunted and relieved expressions on their faces.
“It’s been too long, bhai,” Zail said as he grabbed him in a bear hug and slapped him on the back. Ajay did the same except with a little more restraint.
“Did you see Dad?” he asked when he pulled away.
Hem shook his head. “I talked to Mom and got an update, but I didn’t have time for anything else. I came straight here from the airport. Why are you two standing outside? The meeting was supposed to start ten minutes ago.”
“We wanted to go in together. United front and all that,” Zail said quietly. “Do you have an idea on how we can address these fuckers? They’re going to ask why Dad isn’t here.”
“What do they know?”
Ajay shook his head. “Absolutely nothing. I’ve been telling people that Dad is working on something new so he’s AWOL this week. I don’t know if that’ll fly in this meeting, though. The last thing we need right now is for the board to vote to oust Dad. That’s the next step after WTA’s offer.”
“Where’s Bill? Legal should be all over this.”
“He retired three months ago,” Ajay said.
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wish. We’re still reviewing résumés for his replacement. We could’ve promoted one of the younger employees but they are just too green. No one has the vast experience that Bill had. Other than you, of course.”
A rush of cold adrenaline coursed through Hem’s veins as an idea formed. Hopefully his instincts would lead him in the right direction. He gripped the door handle.
“I need you to back me up. Follow my lead.”
“Done,” Ajay and Zail said in unison.
Hem knew that if he created a scene, the board would be focused on him and not the fact that his father wasn’t present as the head of the company. He was a majority shareholder who’d been absent from all of the meetings since he resigned from the company, so no one knew how he’d be in a leadership role. That was a plus in his favor.
Fuck all the overthinking, he thought and yanked open the doors with enough force to crash against the walls. The sound was loud enough to silence every person on the floor as well as in the boardroom. He stood by his brothers in the entryway as he scanned the table surrounded by a dozen occupied leather chairs. The wall-to-wall windows displayed the most prominent view of the river, sparkling in the distance.
“Hello, everyone.”
There were
shocked expressions and rumbles of disapproval from some of the relics in the room. Hem straightened his tie with one hand, strode to the credenza against the far wall, and dropped his briefcase on the oak surface. Ajay and Zail took opposite corners on the other side of the room and stood with arms crossed over their chests.
“Gentlemen?” Ajay said. “Once you’ve composed yourselves, Hem has the floor.”
“How is everyone? I know I’m not the face you expected to see, but I’m the one you’ve got, so take a good look and enjoy it. You can whisper about me later.”
To his left, a leather chair rolled away from the table. “Well, you know how to make a first impression.”
That was when he first saw her.
She sat with her legs crossed, wearing a fitted dress that modestly draped over her thighs, hair precariously pinned on the top of her head, large eyes, straight nose, and a pursed mouth made for dirty thoughts.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
It took him a moment to register that everyone in the room was waiting for him to answer her. “I think you’re the one who knows how to make an impression.”
The woman unfolded her legs slowly and stood. He followed the way her body moved and stretched until she reached her full height. Shit, she was almost eye level with him. Judging by her heels, she had to be six foot without shoes. He loved confidence, and it took a confident fucking woman to give conventions the finger and embrace every inch she had.
“Mina Kohli,” she said, extending a hand. “I was chosen to lead your compensation committee and provide a response to the board and major shareholders about the offer.”
Hem slid his palm against hers and gripped. Mina’s dream-girl eyes widened when Hem squeezed her palm.
Oh yes. This was very interesting.
He let her go when her gaze narrowed at his prolonged hold. “Okay, Mina, why don’t you have a seat? You can get started as soon as I’m done. As for the rest of you, thank you for selecting a lead for the compensation committee. Anything else you want to let us know while we’re here? Shouldn’t you tell us what we should have for lunch? Or how to brush our fucking teeth?”